CHAPTER TWO

Claire Temple took a quick glance at her smartphone to confirm the address, then pushed through double doors into the small but brightly lit lobby of the building. A directory put the offices she was looking for on the third floor, but so had another directory in another lobby in another building some four blocks south. She noted the "out of service" sign on the elevator — also like the other building — and started up the winding stairs. What is it with the elevators in this neighborhood?

Three doors down from the open stairwell she found what she was looking for, writ large in gold letters on the glass door.

Nelson, Murdock, and Paige

Incorporated

———

Legal and Investigative Services

Claire opened the door to take in the office. A main room with windows opposite the door, and four windowed offices opening off the main room, two on either side. Three of the offices had one of the partners' names on a closed door. The fourth office had been converted to a waiting area and break room, currently filled to capacity with people, some sitting quietly, others holding conversations in low voices. A hand-lettered sign on the reception desk read, "Please take a seat and have some coffee." She took off her jacket and stood outside the door of the waiting area.

After a few minutes the door marked "Paige" opened. A thin blond woman led an older, dark-haired man to the main office door.

"Thank you very much for coming in, Mr. Alvarez. I think we have a very good chance of getting your deposit back from the rental office. I should have news for you in a couple of days, but call us if you have any questions. Or if the landlord calls you."

The man shook her hand and left. She went to the reception desk, made a few notes on a pad, crossed to the waiting area. "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I can see you now. Ms. Daley, Mr. Nelson should be with you in a few minutes." She looked at Claire. "Do you have an appointment, Ms...?"

Claire shook her head. "No, I need to see Matt, er, Mr. Murdock, about... someone who passed through... my workplace, last night."

Karen regarded her as the Johnsons crossed between them. "We've met, haven't we?"

Claire grimaced slightly. "That mess last year, with the, um, unsafe building. I'm Matt's nurse friend."

Comprehension struck swiftly. "Oh my god, that's it! Wow, that was a mess, wasn't it?" Karen glanced toward the door marked "Murdock". "Matt is working on some briefs, but I'm sure he'd take a break to—"

The door to the office opened. Matt stood there, dark glasses on, white cane in hand. "Claire, is that you?" He extended a hand, palm up.

"Matt! How are you?" Claire smiled and walked to him, taking the offered hand in hers.

"I'm well. It's so nice to hear your voice again."

Karen moved to her office where the Johnsons were waiting. She silently mouthed "nice to see you" before she shut the door.

"Please come in, sit down." Matt gestured to three worn chairs in front of his desk as he closed the door, then adjusted the Venetian blinds for privacy. They both sat. "So, do you need me for my day job or my night job?"

Claire chuckled. "You are not one for small talk, are you?" She shook her head, knowing he couldn't see it but knowing that he could sense it otherwise. "It's not like that. Not really, anyway. And it's not for me."

Matt quirked the corner of his mouth. "A friend in trouble? Criminal or civil?"

"Not, it's not that either. I want you to help someone I saw at work last night, someone who came into the emergency room at Sinai Queens."

"The riot? You were there? I thought you worked somewhere in Harlem these days."

"Yes, I was there to cover a shift for a friend. And it wasn't actually a riot. More of a brawl, although it certainly had potential." She paused, looked at her hands folded on her lap. "Spider-Man broke it up before it got too bad."

"I heard. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"I wasn't, but Spider-Man got shot. Twice. Minor wounds, for gunshots, but he took off before we could treat him." She looked up again. "That's what I want to talk about. I think... I think he might be like you."

Matt leaned forward. "Like me? How?"

Claire fidgeted, uncertain how to explain. "I think... I got the impression that his vision, or his hearing, might be... unusual."

"What gave you that impression?"

"Well, to start with, he wears these goggles, like welder's goggles or something, but I noticed the lenses are all scratched up. Not like normal wear and tear scratched up, more like he took a piece of metal to them on purpose. I couldn't see his eyes at all."

Matt shrugged slightly. "Keeping your eyes hidden is pretty important for a secret identity. It's pretty much rule number one."

"Matt, there's no way a person with nor—... with typical vision could see anything through those goggles. And he reacted to something before anyone else."

"Maybe he's just got good reflexes."

"I don't mean he reacted faster, I mean he reacted before anyone else even knew what was happening. Before anyone could know what was happening!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. When he finished tossing people around and spraying webs on everyone..." Matt cocked his head. "Not as weird as it sounds. When he'd finished with the fighting in the ER, he asked if we were alright. Suddenly he tensed up and spun around. And then the doors from admitting burst open and some gang kid with a gun came in. Spider-Man charged him and knocked him down." Claire smiled, remembering his bravery. "Then he threw him in the air and webbed him to the ceiling."

Matt laughed sharply. "Now there's a mental picture!"

Claire joined him in a chuckle. "Guy looked so... confused. But Matt, there was no warning at all. Spider-Man knew he was coming before he came into the room. The only person I've ever met who had that kind of awareness is you." She pointed at him.

Matt considered for a moment. "It seems possible, based on what you've told me. I'm almost certainly not the only person in the world with enhanced senses." He shrugged. "Probably not even the the only one in New York. But why are you telling me about it?"

"Because I want you to help him! He's just a kid, he's running around in workout clothes and a hoodie diving into gang fights, he's going to get killed!"

He leaned back into his chair. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do, Claire. Make him stop? I can't. It's not for me to decide what someone else does with their... abilities. Remember how successful you were convincing me to give up my night job?"

Claire sneered at the memory. "Oh, I know better than that! I was just hoping you might, I don't know, coach him? Train him? Teach him to use his enhanced senses to avoid getting hurt. Make sure he's doing the hero thing," she made circular gestures with one hand while she searched for a word, "right."

"'The hero thing?'"

"You know what I mean."

Matt turned his chair in short arcs, back and forth, while he considered. "I can't just abandon Hell's Kitchen to... take on an apprentice. I don't even know how to find him. Queens is a big place." He held up a hand to forestall Claire's objection. "But if you can arrange a meeting, I'll talk to him and see what I can do. Agreed?"

A smile lit up her face. "Agreed! Thank you, Matt, this is a huge load off my mind!" She stood up, took his hand and squeezed it.

Matt stood with her. "Midnight at the Powerhouse by Pier Ninety-Eight. On the roof. Let me know when, but give me a couple of days' notice, alright?"

"No problem!" She headed for the door, as if to leave before he could change his mind. As she left his personal office she stopped, smiled, and said loudly, "Thank you, Mr. Murdock, you're a terrific lawyer!" She smirked at the bemused expression on his face.

When she was halfway down the hall to the stairs, she stopped short and wondered aloud, "How am I supposed to find Spider-Man?"