Travis joined them with a pair of long reach line cutters and looked at the shark hesitantly.
Sabrina held her hand out. “Thank you, Travis.”
“Uh, sure.” He answered, handing the other set to Walter. “I’ll, uh, watch from here. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
Walter grunted. “Go suit up; we’re going to need you in the water.” His voice was low and gruff from decades of cigarettes and shouting over machinery.
“You want me in the water? With a shark?” Travis replied incredulously.
“His name is Charles.” Sabrina interjected as she cut through the surface net closest to the shark, revealing lengths of netting that were twisted so tight into the gills of the shark it was restricting oxygen.
“My bad, you want me to jump into the water with sweet, docile Charles?” Travis piqued a brow.
Walter gave a sardonic grin as he nodded casually. “You don’t feel like swimming with Charles?” He reached his pole out towards the great white, carefully sawing back and forth at netting around its eyes and nose, with a shielded blade.
“That would be absolutely correct.” Travis responded. “I can confirm I would rather walk naked through the naval shipyard than swim with a shark.”
“We’ll need the safety clippers on the other extension poles.” Sabrina muttered. “They look like these but with a protective hook across the top; it’ll protect this guy from our blades oncehe’s able to move more.” Sabrina spoke calmly, as the blades of their clippers slowly made progress.
Travis returned a minute later with more tools and pulled out his phone to record.
“What are you doing with your phone out at a time like this?” Walter grumbled.
“Filming for your socials.” Travis answered, zooming in on a shot of the shark’s head caught in the ghost net. “You need more donors. The more we post about what you do, the more people will see this is important, and the more people will donate.”
“Fine, but keep my face out of it.” Walter grunted, cutting through a particularly tricky bit of marine debris. He gave a curse as the shark flipped over, trying to escape the net already.
“Thank you for filming, Travis.” Sabrina answered, her gaze glued on the Great White before them, and the proximity of her blade to their new friend. “Without donations, we have no way of responding to calls like these; If we didn’t have the funding to come out, this guy would starve to death before something stronger came along and ate it. More often than not, these nets are full of fish with no way out; but today's response call could have just as likely been a seal or a dolphin; something far more defenseless than Charles, here.”
“Why the name Charles?” Travis asked, his tone amused.
“Well, he can’t help it, but his mouth’s a little messed up, like King Charles the Second.”
“The guy with the Hapsburg chin!” Travis grinned.
Walter turned to Sabrina, shaking his head. “Is this nerd stuff?” He asked.
Sabrina gave a laugh, then made a cajoling sound when the shark thrashed again.
“Well, when you put it like that...” She trailed off with a slight grunting sound as she cut through another layer of netting.
Sabrina turned to look back at Travis, who was still recording. The wind whipped at tendrils of wild copper escaping her ponytail, as her eyes sparkled and amusement spread across her freckled face.
“We’re out here in the middle of the ocean, rescuing a great white shark on a Tuesday, wearing cool ass jackets. Not bad for a couple of nerds.”
Chapter Two
(Cesare)
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
“If you’d like to be stuck in litigation for the next five years, be my guest, but we both know my guy has the money to do that, and yours does not. So, you already know how this goes if he says no. The deal expires tomorrow at noon.” Cesare Lombardi hung up the phone, and strolled out his office. He walked down the hall of Lombardi & Falcone, his stride powerful, controlled, and purposeful.
Cesare’s dark hair was short but tousled, and his eyes a steely arctic blue. He had a firm jaw and chiseled features. His skin was bronze, and true to his Italian roots, a gold cross chain hung around his neck, tucked beneath his suit shirt. He moved like the world was his, and to Cesare, it was.
He approached the doorway of a conference room where an older gentleman sat alone at a very long and empty table.
The client sat staring blankly at the wall, with a coffee in his hands. It seemed untouched. Cesare shoved down any empathy he felt for the man. Feeling for people did not win cases or help his clients. Destroying their opposition did.
