[center][h2]And Justice For All - Part 2[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/nJWJjjh.jpg[/img] [/center] The screen switched to an impenetrable blackness into which probed a pair of bright searchlights. As the submersible maneuvered, the first images to be seen were bubbles, an occasional cloud of silt, and small marine creatures who gyrated and whipsawed their way out of sight. Soon, the depths ahead yielded a glow which brightened as the image capture drew near. A silhouette took shape, growing in scale as the beams of numerous searchlights played upon it. Brilliant flashes popped from each drone; photo captures revealing the subject in their artificial lightning. The Eileen McSorley lay upon the bottom, her hull crudely bisected atop a carpet of the reddish brown taconite she’d once carried. Yuri froze at the sight, but despite his horror, was unable to tear his eyes away. Booth nudged the mechanic. “You don’t have to hang for this,” he offered. Yuri shook his head as the view took in a closeup of the battered wheelhouse. “No,” he replied. “I’ll stay.” DeVillers, his attorneys, and the young staffers were all transfixed. “How are we seeing this?” his voice had gone soft in wonder. “Oceaneering Services,” Booth replied. “They were running structural viability surveys on a bunch of old drilling rigs til the hurricane forced ‘em in. My other client,” he continued as the submersible’s camera lifted over the bridge railing, “diverted ‘em to the wreck site. They’re catching full images, and something called hull stress metallurgy scans…whatever that means.” Gasps were heard from both conference rooms as the view peeked through a shattered bridge window, revealing two bodies that hadn’t been swept out when the ship’s death plunge rammed her into the bottom. “Shenequa,” Lenny said. “Cut it.” Yuri’s eyes swept the tabletop before him. “My god,” someone from the Ogilvy-Norton group uttered. “How did you find them?” DeVillers’ tone was sharpening to its’ usual accusatory pitch. “Wasn’t hard,” Booth answered. “We had a fix radioed in by the…the ship that was behind it…I’ve got it somewhere…” “The Moncrief,” Yuri filled in the blank. “From there, locating the reactor’s heat bloom led them right to the wreck.” “Is the NMMP on the scene?” Lang asked. Booth shook his head. “Just Oceaneering, but tomorrow morning, MP’s sending a team to look over our guys’ shoulders for some official finger pointing. So we’re short for time, gentlemen.” Lang, the senior attorney, lifted his hand. “Wait a minute, Counselor. We’re hearing an awful lot about this other ‘client’ and his ability to control this situation. Just who is he and what is his interest in this?” Lenny smiled. “He’s sorta the lynchpin to the whole operation. Because of his influence, Oceaneering’s discovery will back up your insurance claim, your reactor will classify the wreck site as off limits for the next five hundred years, and Mr. Antonov will disappear into the black, along with any knowledge he may possess. As Ogilvy-Norton’s newest partner, Adelai Niska can offer those services immediately…but time’s a wastin’ fellas! Whattya say?” The lawyers and their client circled into a huddle. Yuri could see the sweat glistening on DeVillers’ brow as the color drained from his face. Clearly, he was being educated about just who it was come to call. The quietly heated exchange broke long enough for Lang to ask, “what are you proposing for Mr. Antonov? Ident change, or the like?” “More like an internal records correction,” Booth said. “It’s alot easier to say that [i]a[/i] Yuri Antonov went down with the ship, just not [i]this[/i] Yuri Antonov…capiche?” As he was met with blank expressions, the lawyer chuckled. “Get one of your source box jockeys to make a few number changes and voila! My Yuri Antonov never worked for you. You can pull his settlement cost out of your “discretionary spending” account. Oh, and one more thing? Somebody call off the dogs here on Greenleaf.” Onscreen, Lang cast a sidelong glance toward DeVillers, who responded with a curt nod. “Mister Booth,” the attorney collected himself, “we should like to call a brief pause to consult with our client. Would fifteen minutes suffice?” “Bueno! I gotta pay the rent for those four cups’o’ coffee, anyway!” Lenny said brightly. As the screen winked to black, he ushered Yuri to his feet. “Now’s the boring part where I deal Niska into their little card game. No need for you to hang around for that.” He opened the door for Yuri, then offered Shehnequa a cheerful ‘thumb’s up.’ “See Diane on your way out. She’s got your new ident. You can start drawing funds on it right away. You’ve got a balance of twelve-point-five thousand all ready to go! Welcome to your new life, my friend!” The whole day had been surreal. Yuri barely thought to ask about the disparity of his payout. “What happened to the hundred twenty-five thousand?” The lawyer shrugged. “Simple. Twelve-point-five K for my fee…I did this on the cheap because I like you. Fifty K as tribute to Mr. Niska, and the other fifty? He tells me that your dear old mother is living under his care at the skyplex. That money covers her upkeep.” “She’s working like a house slave for the man,” the mechanic growled. Booth shoved hands into his pockets as they stepped into the corridor. “Feel free to take it up with him. In the meantime, I can have Diane set you up in a hotel…maybe book a passage? Niska did say he’d be glad to have you come to work running all those big spinny things that keep him in orbit. But hey,” he made a turn for the restroom, “I really gotta drain the lizard. Take care of yourself, [i]dohn mah[/i]?” Yuri Antonov tried to grasp the change now confronting him. Nearly killed aboard his own ship…then pursued by something Booth called a ‘wet work team’...only to end up escaping both Ogilvy-Norton and Adelai Niska with a few coins and his life. A life once more cast adrift. When the idea struck, the mechanic nearly laughed at just how well the notion seemed to fit. “Mr. Booth,” he said, “can you have someone give me a ride?” Leonard Booth, Attorney at Law, halted his desperate retreat to face his client once more. “Sure. Where to?” “The Trade Port,” Yuri replied. “I heard something about a job.” China Doll had rescued him once before. He wondered if they'd be willing to do it again.