I’m so glad he doesn’t want my guts for garters anymore

“Wonderful. Great. I’m so glad he doesn’t want my guts for garters anymore.”

“Oh, no fear; he’s still looking for a good pair, made right out of your very own. But not just yet. You’re a sort of a distant dream, if you take my meaning. No; he’s got other concerns at the moment.

“You’ll recall a certain document he had in his possession?”

Did I.

A spectacular map of the voyage of Brendan, patron saint of voyagers and Irish icon. Concrete evidence that an Irish religious traveler had set foot in the New World nearly 1,000 years ago.

Too bad it was a fake.

“That’s in other hands now. Official hands. I couldn’t get it for him even if I wanted to. And, trust me, I don’t want to.”

“Och; not at all, Martin. We’d much prefer that oaf doesn’t have such an important icon of our nation’s history. He’s much too secular.

“We want you to get it for us.”

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

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