Chapter 7 – Back to School

Daredevil crept silently along the second-floor school hallway. The fluorescent tubes above his head were silent. That, and his black suit, should keep him from the eyes of the security cameras. He hoped. He reached the third door on his right and slipped inside Robertson's former classroom. Crouching down next to the desk, he took the notebook, bank statements, laptop, and baggie out of his backpack and set them on the floor next to him.

Matt opened the bottom drawer on the left and began to pry open the false bottom. Before he could get it out, he stopped and went very still, tilting his head. Someone was coming. The door of the classroom next to Robertson's opened, followed by several footsteps. Then the door closed. Probably a security guard. Now the footsteps were heading in his direction. There was no time to get to a window and escape by that route. Taking down the guard was not an option; no one could know someone had been in that classroom, not if he wanted his plan to work. His only choice was to hide in place, hoping the three sides of the desk would conceal him. He swept the four objects close to him and made himself small.

The classroom door opened. The flick of a switch and the hum of the fluorescent tubes told him the lights were on. Accompanied by the stink of tobacco, a man stepped into the room. He stopped after taking a few steps. Matt imagined him looking around. Only the top and side of the desk hid him from the guard's view. Then the man walked back to the door, flicking off the lights on the way. The door clicked shut, and the guard's footsteps continued down the hall.

Matt breathed, for the first time in he-didn't-know-how-long. Then he waited. When he was sure the guard had left the corridor and wasn't coming back, he pried open the drawer's false bottom, put the four items back where he had found them, and replaced the false bottom. Then he waited again, until the guard finished his rounds. Only then did he slip out of the classroom and move silently and quickly down the hallway and into the stairwell.

# # # #

First thing the next morning, Matt made his way to the 15th Precinct. The door to Lieutenant Brett Mahoney's office was open. Matt knocked on the door frame.

The detective raised his head from the report he was reviewing. "Hey, Murdock."

"Hey. Got a minute?"

"Yeah, I guess. Come on in." Brett replied with a wave of his hand.

Matt found the visitor's chair that wasn't piled high with paperwork and sat down.

"What's up?" Brett asked.

"Just wonderin' – about the Robertson case," Matt said as he folded his cane. "Is my client still in the picture?"

Brett frowned. "Not in the picture, exactly, but not out of it, either."

"Damn," Matt swore under his breath. "What does that even mean?"

"It means we still got nothin'," Brett said. "Everything about the victim checks out. Well-liked, no problems with other teachers or parents or administration. No enemies, no one who had it in for him, as far as we can tell."

"You believe that?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Well, someone did," Matt observed. "What about outside the school, his personal life?"

"No problems in his personal life that we know of. Lived with his fianceé in Brooklyn Heights. I'm starting to think it was some random dude looking for drugs or the stuff to make them with."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"No."

Matt pressed his lips together, thinking. "Was he moonlighting, you know, doing other work besides teaching?"

"Not that we know of."

"Would the school have a problem if he was doing outside work?"

Brett shook his head. "It's uncommon, but not unheard-of, for the teachers to do outside research. Especially the science teachers. Most of them are highly qualified, some people would say overqualified. They could teach at the college level but they choose to teach high school. As long as the outside research doesn't interfere with their teaching and they don't use school resources, the school looks the other way. But, like I said, there's no evidence he was doing outside work. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. I keep thinking about what Peter said, about how Robertson acted so squirrelly about that notebook – "

"You mean the notebook no one else saw," Brett interjected.

"Yeah, that one." Matt paused for a beat, then continued, "If he was doing outside work and keeping it secret, maybe it wasn't . . . legit."

Brett scoffed. "You gotta be kidding me. What're you saying, that he broke bad, went full Walter White, and was cooking meth or some such shit somewhere?"

"That was a TV show, Brett," Matt pointed out mildly.

"I thought you didn't watch TV."

"I don't, but Foggy and Karen do. I'm just sayin', you don't want to get tunnel vision about this case."

"You mean, don't look at your client."

"Among other things," Matt said. "Can you rule out that Robertson got mixed up with some bad people, the kind who wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he got in their way?"

Brett sighed wearily. "I guess not. So what're you saying? Do you know something I don't?"

"No," Matt lied. "I'm just sayin', if he was mixed up in something, there's evidence somewhere. You just need to find it."

"Any idea what that might be, and where to find it – assuming it even exists?"

"Nope. That's your job." Matt stood and unfolded his cane. "Good luck," he added over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.

Brett groaned. "Son of a bitch." He leaned back in his chair, his lips pursed in thought. Murdock didn't come to see him just to shoot the breeze. He had an agenda, Brett was sure of it. He just didn't know what that agenda was. Maybe it was simply trying to clear his client, but Brett doubted it was that straightforward. He knew how the lawyer operated. Murdock was up to something. Maybe the evidence he was talking about would give him the answer – if it wasn't made-up, a diversion. He shrugged. The only way to find out was to look for it. He sighed and picked up the phone.

# # # #

That afternoon, Tyler made his way to the brownstone that housed the offices of Nelson & Murdock, taking his usual place at the conference room table and starting to work on his homework. As he took his algebra book out of his backpack, he breathed a sigh of relief. His deal with Flash was working – so far. The algebra book, along with all of Tyler's other stuff, was back in his locker when he got to school in the morning, and Flash had avoided him (and Peter and Ned and MJ) all day long.

Tyler left the conference room door open so he could hear Matt, Foggy, and Karen talking. If anyone had noticed the inconsistency with his cover story – needing quiet to do his homework – they hadn't mentioned it. He stopped doing his algebra homework when Foggy returned from a deposition.

As soon as he walked in the door, saying, "I'm back," Karen came out of her office.

She said, "Guys, I think I got something."

"What?" Matt asked, sounding anxious.

"You know I've been going over the bank statements we found," she began, "and I managed to piece together the money trail. It's pretty well disguised, but it leads to a company called 'Cybertek.'"

"Never heard of it," Foggy observed as he set his briefcase on the floor and took a seat on the reception room couch.

"Neither had I," Karen said. She pulled the chair out from behind the reception desk and took a seat before she continued. "It's a subsidiary of Roxxon Corporation, its research arm, to be exact."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Matt said quietly, as if he was thinking out loud.

"What d'you mean?" Foggy asked.

"When I opened the baggie and smelled what was inside, I knew I'd smelled something like it before."

"Where?"

Matt didn't answer him right away. He crossed the room and leaned against the arm of the couch. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "Midland Circle. The underground chamber."

Foggy groaned.

Matt swallowed and licked his lips before continuing. "I think it's what the Hand was taking out of there."

"You mean the stuff they used to bring people back to life?" Foggy asked.

"Yeah, that stuff."

"But the Hand was wiped out," Karen protested. "Weren't they?"

"Probably. When I dropped off the stuff from Robertson's office at Rand Enterprises, I asked Danny if there had been any sign of them. He said there was nothing, not a trace. Not when he was in Asia. And nothing since. But they never found anyone in the rubble." Matt shrugged. "So who knows?"

"But if the Hand is gone – " Karen began.

Matt interrupted her. "Doesn't matter," he said, waving his hand. "It doesn't have to be the Hand. If anyone gets control of that substance and figures out how to use it – well, think of the power that would give them."

"Holy shit," Foggy murmured.

"If not the Hand, who?" Karen asked.

"My money's on Roxxon," Matt replied. "They were mixed up with the Hand . . . before. I think they got hold of some of the 'substance' and hired Robertson to analyze it, maybe figure out how to make more of it."

"But why kill him?" Foggy asked.

Matt shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he knew too much."

"This is all very interesting, but how do we prove it?" Karen asked.

"We're not there yet," Matt conceded. "Let's see what Danny's people find out."

At his listening post in the conference room, Tyler could barely contain his excitement. Peter, Ned, and MJ – especially MJ – were going to be stoked when he told them. And he thought he had a way to use what he'd learned. Tomorrow morning couldn't come soon enough.