Chapter 3 – The Call

Matt

Matt didn't want to live through the next ten days, or anything like them, ever again. At first, Foggy seized every opportunity to point out how crazy Vanessa's plan was, and to try to talk Matt out of it. If he was being honest, Matt didn't disagree. The plan was crazy. That didn't change the fact that neither he nor Foggy nor Karen had a better one. After a few days, Foggy backed off, becoming uncharacteristically passive-aggressive. When he wasn't in court or at a deposition or in a meeting, he stayed in his office with the door closed. The silent treatment was marginally better than the constant bickering. At least they were able to get some work done for their clients.

After work on the ninth day, Matt and Karen went to Josie's. They didn't ask Foggy to join them. Karen got the first round and brought their drinks to the table where Matt was sitting. They drank in silence for a couple of minutes. Karen was the first to speak.

"I hate it when you guys are fighting," she said.

"So do I."

"I wish you would just talk to him."

"And say what?" Matt asked, throwing up his hands. "I've already said everything there is to say. I'd just be repeating myself."

"He's not wrong, you know."

"I know," Matt said quietly.

"You don't have to do this."

"Actually, I do."

"Why?"

"Vanessa made it clear that if I stay out of it like I've been doing, and Owlsley wins, Fisk will consider it a 'breach of contract'." Matt made air quotes. "He'll come after you, Karen, you and Foggy. I can't let that happen."

"He can just do that?" Karen asked, "change your deal, just like that?"

"It's not like he's going to go to court to enforce it," Matt said, "so, yeah, he can change it."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this. I don't trust Vanessa. She could have you killed, once you do what she wants. Then come after us, anyway."

"She could, but what am I supposed to do?" Matt asked. "If Vanessa and Owlsley go to war, they'll tear Hell's Kitchen apart. Innocent people will die. If there was something you could do to stop it, wouldn't you do it?"

"You know I would. I just wish there was another way."

"Me too," Matt said quietly, then drained his glass. He held out his hand. "I'll get the next round." Karen finished her drink and put her empty glass in his hand.

When Matt returned with their drinks, she asked, "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. The idea isn't to get admissible evidence that could be used against Owlsley in court. I'm not the best person to search for incriminating documents, anyway. The idea is to find out what Owlsley's planning, and tell Vanessa so her people can sabotage his operations and eventually put him out of business."

"I don't know," Karen said doubtfully. "That sounds like it could take a long time."

"It could," Matt agreed. "Depends on how long my cover lasts."

They both fell silent. Matt didn't want to think about what would happen when, not if but when, he was burned. He had a pretty good idea, and Karen probably did, too.

Karen fiddled with her glass, finally taking a sip. When she set it down, she asked, "What are the odds? Of you coming back when this is all over, I mean."

Matt didn't answer her right away. He wanted to reassure her, but he owed her the truth. And he was pretty sure she'd know if he was bullshitting her. Finally, he said, "Realistically? Not good." Karen nodded but didn't say anything. Then he said, "You seem pretty chill about all this."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Not about something that could get you killed. It's more like I've just . . . given up."

Matt's heart sank. He hoped she didn't mean what he thought she meant. But he asked her anyway. "What d'you mean, you've 'given up'?"

Karen sighed. "I mean I'm done . . . with trying to save you from yourself. You're the only person who can do that."

"You're right," he said, "that's not on you."

Time to change the subject. A couple of men were walking away from the pool table after finishing a game. He stood up, held a hand out to Karen, and asked, "Want to shoot some pool?"

# # #

The call from Vanessa came the next morning. Matt put on his dark glasses and jacket and picked up his cane. As he emerged from his office, Karen stepped out of hers. Foggy stayed put.

"This is it?" she asked.

Matt nodded. "Time to go."

Karen pulled him into a brief hug. "Be careful," she whispered before she released him.

"I will." Matt inclined his head in the direction of Foggy's office. It stung that he wouldn't even say good-bye. "Look after him."

"I will," Karen assured him. She picked up on what Matt didn't say and added, "He's worried about you."

"I know." Matt turned and started to walk out of the office. He hoped it wasn't for the last time. Then he stopped short, retraced his steps back to Karen, and kissed her. He walked away, leaving her speechless. When he was halfway to the front door, he heard Foggy's footsteps behind him. He turned around, a second before Foggy enveloped him in a bear hug.

"God damn it, Matt, you're really doing this?" Foggy asked.

"I am."

Foggy stepped back and took a deep breath. "Just . . . just watch your back, man."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise." Matt crossed his heart.

"I don't believe you, you know."

"I know."

"You're an asshole."

"I know that, too."

"Try not to get yourself killed," Foggy ordered, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"See you soon," Matt replied as he turned and walked out of the office.

Matt's first task was to pretend that he was leaving the city to travel upstate to St. Dunstan's Abbey (Karen had confirmed it was a real place). He went back to his apartment and packed a small duffel and a backpack. From there he took the subway crosstown to Grand Central, where he bought a ticket, paying with cash. Then he blended in with the crowd, following the travelers who were on their way to catch the northbound train that stopped at the town near the abbey. He waited on the platform until the train arrived, then boarded it. At the first stop, 125th Street, he got off and walked west for several blocks to catch the downtown subway. When he got off in SoHo, he headed to Vanessa's gallery. A block north of the building, he ducked into an alley and made his way to the gallery's rear entrance. He entered the code that opened the door and went inside, climbing the three flights of stairs to Vanessa's office. There she presented him with a garment bag holding a custom-tailored suit, one of three, lined with the light, tough armor invented by Melvin Potter, along with a shirt and tie.

"Which one is it?" Matt asked, setting down his duffel and holding out his hand to take the garment bag from her.

"The charcoal grey," Vanessa replied, "but don't change yet. The barber is here." She took back the garment bag and hung it on a hook on the back of the office door. Then she opened the door partway and stuck her head out. "We're ready for you," she said to someone outside the office.

Footsteps approached, then a man's voice asked, "Where should I set up?"

"Wherever you want," Vanessa told him.

The barber only needed a couple of minutes to set up. When he was ready, Vanessa guided Matt to a chair. He took off his suit jacket and backpack and sat down. "I'm thinking a buzz cut," she told the barber.

Matt frowned. "It's hair," Vanessa reminded him, "it'll grow back." The barber plugged in his clippers and got to work. When he was finished, Vanessa took a couple of steps back and said, "It'll do. Now he needs to lose the stubble. I like the clean-shaven look."

A few minutes later, the barber's work was done. Matt heard the rustle of paper as Vanessa handed something, probably cash, to the barber and said, "Thank you. Remember what I said." The barber nodded, then gathered his things and left.

When the door closed behind him, Vanessa turned to Matt and said, "You can change here. I'll wait outside."

He didn't change into the new suit immediately. Instead, he sat down and ran his hands over his face and head. He wondered what he looked like. Then he shrugged. It didn't matter, as long as he didn't look like Matt Murdock. At least, with this haircut, no one would ask him how he combed his hair.

Presently, he reached for the garment bag and unzipped it, taking out the new suit. He fingered the fine wool fabric and the armor lining it. The shirt that went with it was silk. Vanessa had spared no expense. He had to hand it to her; no one would ever expect to see Matt Murdock in a suit like this. When he had changed into the new suit, he stepped out of the office, leaving his own garments behind.

Vanessa stood up, apparently giving him the once-over. "Looking good," she said approvingly, "but there's one more thing: new glasses." Matt started to protest, but before he could say anything, she pressed a pair of glasses into his hand. "Try these," she said. He took off his glasses and put on the pair she'd handed to him. "Much better," she announced. "The red ones are too noticeable."

He couldn't argue the point, so he said nothing. He pulled off the glasses and ran his fingertips over them. The frames were metal, in a style he thought was called "Aviator." Not something Matt Murdock would wear. They'd do. He put them back on.

Vanessa opened a drawer in her desk and rummaged around before pulling out several items. "Your wallet," she said, handing it to Matt, "with your ID and credit cards." She named them and told him where they were in the wallet. He took it from her and put it in his breast pocket. "Don't spend all my money," she warned him.

"No chance of that," he quipped.

Then she handed him a set of keys. "For your apartment. The one with the round head is for the building entrance. There are two keys to the apartment itself. The bottom lock is the key with the square head, and the upper lock, the deadbolt, has the round head with the raised rim. The small key is for your mailbox in the lobby. The mailbox has a Braille label with your name."

Matt took the keys from her and examined them briefly before putting them in his pants pocket.

"Ready to go home, Michael?" Vanessa asked.

Matt picked up his duffel and backpack and followed Vanessa's lieutenant, Francis, down the stairs and out of the building. They left by the rear entrance and walked a block to a waiting car for the drive uptown to "Mike Murphy's" apartment in a Hell's Kitchen building owned by Vanessa. Having Mike live in the Kitchen was a calculated risk, but an acceptable one. Mike's apartment needed to be in one of Vanessa's buildings, and that was where her properties were located. They had chosen a building in the northernmost part of Hell's Kitchen, a dozen blocks from Matt's apartment and even farther from Nelson & Murdock's new office. There wasn't much chance someone in this neighborhood would recognize Matt, especially with his changed appearance.

The car dropped Matt off two blocks from his new home. He walked the rest of the way, used his key to enter the building, and took the elevator to the top floor, the eighth. There he walked to the end of the hall and stood in front of the door to apartment 8B, holding his keys. Then he took a deep breath and entered. There was no backing out now. From now on, he would be "Mike Murphy," living in his apartment, wearing his clothes, thinking his thoughts. It was the only way the plan stood any chance of success.