Read Online Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II by Abby L. Vandiver - Free Book Online Page A

Father Realini.” He pointed at himself, then pointed to Father
Realini. “And you know that, but many people don’t. We shall appeal to their
ignorance.”
    “Yes.
That is easy to do,” Father Realini agreed.
    Father
Marquette nodded at Father Realini. “So. It was sold to the Emperor by John
Dee.” Then he paused his pen, and glanced at Father Realini. “For how much?” he
asked.
     “One
thousand lira.”
    Father
Marquette sat still.
    “Well,
write that.” Father Realini pushed Father Marquette’s shoulder.
    “They
would not have had lira in the 1500s.”
    “And
what would they have had, Father?”
    “Ducats.”
Father Marquette turned around on the stool and faced Father Marquette.
    “Well,
write that.”
    “How
many ducats?”
    “Oh,
Holy Mother of God. I don’t know. One thousand.”
    “That
would have been too much.”
    “What
would have been a fair amount?”
    “For
an Emperor?”
    “No,
for the Emperor’s cook! Of course for the Emperor.”
    “600
Ducats,” Father Marquette said, and then with a nod added, “ Gold ducats.”
    “Well,
write that and be done with it.”
    Father
Marquette lifted his feet off the floor and swirled himself around to face the
desk. He wrote for a few more moments and then ended the letter with a
flourish. “ Finito !” He looked up and smiled at Father Realini.
    Father
Realini took the letter and blew on it to dry the ink. He folded it and put it
in his pocket. Reconsidering, he took it out, handed it to Father Marquette,
and said, “Here, sit on it.”
    “What?”
    “It
must look old. Not as if it was written today.”
    Father
Marquette gave a nod and stuck it under the mattress of his cot and sat on top.
Sitting for what he believed an appropriate amount of time. Retrieving it from
the folds of the bed, they continued to fondle and fan it, caress it and crease
it for better than an hour. Leaving it in the desk, they left for morning
worship and work, agreeing to meet in the Library in three hours.
     “Where’s
the letter?” Father Realini asked.
    Father
Marquette gave Father Realini a vacant look. He had just come around to the
Library from the garden where he had supervised spring planting, at the agreed
upon time.
    “You
have the letter,” Father Marquette said.
    “I
do not have the letter. That was your responsibility.”
    Father
Marquette checked the pockets in his cassock. Pulling it back, he checked his
pants pocket. He patted his hands over his body as if it could be hidden there.
His eyes lit up. He pulled off his tuftless biretta and peered
inside of it, the last vesture of his priestly garb where the letter could have
been hiding. Nothing. His eyes searched the face of Father Realini.
    “Oh,
my Lord. Father in Heaven, help me.” Father Realini stomped one foot and on the
other spun around in a circle, holding his forehead with his hand. He stopped
as the window that faced the front of the Villa came into view. “Oh no,” he
screeched. He could see Rector Bershoni scurrying out to meet the black car
slowing pulling up the long curved driveway.
    Father
Realini grabbed Father Marquette and shook his shoulders. “You have to go get
it.”
    “What?
I don’t have time to get it,” Father Marquette said, following Father Realini’s
gaze out of the window.
    Father
Realini turned Father Marquette around and starting pushing him out the door.
    Father
Marquette made his legs stiff and his back straight. “No. Stop! I don’t have
time.”
    “If
you would cease with the talking,” Father Realini said, turning to look out the
window and seeing a man with a moustache climb out of the back seat. “You could
make it.” He gave Father Marquette a big push that made him fall forward and
only missed hitting the ground by putting his arms out and bracing himself on
the wall in front of him.
    “Go.”
Father Realini said between clinched teeth. “Run like the Devil himself is
chasing you.”
    Father
Marquette started off slowly, Father Realini