The first two she read out loud to all three of her companions: “First message: They’re filing charges against Scott Lang’s girlfriend and her father just for inventing technology? Surely even the Accords can’t be used to call someone guilty by association. Second message: Another announcement from Ross tomorrow.” That wasn’t as expected, but hardly surprising. “Then two more messages asking where we are, and oh shit, now she’s worrying we’ve been arrested, too. I’m going to tell her we’re all fine.”
“You’re not telling her we went to meet with them,” said Marci. “I don’t care if you trust her to keep it off the record, I don’t.”
“Wasn’t going to do something like that,” sighed Foggy, texting only We’re all right. “Though I suppose we’ll have to let the government at least know we’ve been in contact with them. There’s no other way to get those deals.”
“Jennifer and I have been contact with Mr. Barton and Mr. Lang,” Matt corrected. “At the very least, we should try to avoid volunteering further details that aren’t relevant and probably still privileged. They certainly can’t demand them from either of us about the other, Foggy. None of us have any appointments we missed, right?”
Marci shrugged. “Our colleagues might have noticed Foggy and I haven’t been around. But I don’t think they’ll ask any questions.”
On Foggy’s phone, the responding message popped up from Karen: Let me guess. I’m not allowed to ask.
Nope, sorry, Foggy responded, with a cheeky smiling emoji right after. Not that she would buy the story they were going to sell. Nor would anyone else, really, but so long as there wasn’t proof contradicting it, they might get away with it.
“We’ve got from lunchtime to lunchtime again,” said Jennifer, as she looked at her own phone. “I think you and I should have one by ourselves, Matt, talk shop.”
“That is a good idea,” said Marci, and she stood up and look at Foggy. “How about you, Foggy? Want to delay dealing with our colleagues?”
Foggy would’ve been, except she did want to sit Cheryl down and tell her everything in person; she’d promised herself she’d do that for things like this. So she said, “Not this time. I’m just going to grab a sandwich from the corner and face my PA.”
The four of them ended staying in each other’s company back to Hell’s Kitchen, and Foggy and Marci only parted when the latter turned to head for another one of her favorite cafés. On hearing Cheryl hadn’t had lunch yet, Foggy texted her that she was bringing two sandwiches in. She made sure to get Cheryl her favorite corned beef.
Cheryl ate it very slowly as Foggy told her the whole story. When she finished with it, she said, “Well, from what I’ve heard of Sam Wilson, he wouldn’t be willing to stay in hiding with powerful people doing nothing for long. And that’s going to complicate the case, isn’t it, when he and Wanda inevitably get identified? Even if they believe you when you say you didn’t know their plans. Which they probably won’t, and now they’ll definitely come to question all of us.”
“We insist everything is privileged,” Foggy reminded, “because hey, it is. Even if they get their hands on any search warrants, there’ll be nothing for them to find.” At least once Matt’s costume and weapons were put somewhere else again. Maybe they could just stay there for a month or so. She wouldn’t mind.
Cheryl shook her head. “If they get to come into my home...and no, there’s nothing there in theory, but you’re a fool if you think my family and I are safe because of that.”
“I’m not a fool,” said Foggy. “But we don’t have to assume they’ll go that far; you’re not going to be their priority by a long shot.”
“They’d better not, then,” was all Cheryl said to that, and there was a new note of coldness in her voice. To some extent, at least, Foggy didn’t blame her, even if maybe she could’ve realized this sort of thing was likely to happen.
All in all, she was way more cheered than she ought to be when Karen’s number popped up on her phone, even though she was pretty sure already she wasn’t going to like the news.
Sure enough, Karen answered her cheerful, “What’s cooking, scary lady?” with a “Jennifer and her cousin’s entire contact history. Just landed anonymously sent in our mailbox. And now we’re getting word we’re not the only ones. She was telling the truth on the radio; there’s been nothing since that email in April of last year. But the fact that they got their hands on this information and spread it out so far…”
“An act of intimidation.” Foggy’s blood ran cold. Though surely if they’d had anything on her and Matt and Daredevil and his recent temporary teammates, that would’ve been first to come out. More likely, of course, this had just been something they’d known to look for already, and they would be hoping to find dirt on her and Matt and Marci after a little more searching. Starting, maybe by looking into her and Matt’s known connection to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
“I’ve talked to Ellison about trying to find out who’s responsible. Normally he doesn’t object, but normally my targets at least live in New York City, and he’s hesitant this time.”
“He’s afraid it’s connected to the government,” said Foggy; that much was obvious. “Karen, I assume you realize how serious that would be.”
“Already told him, how much such a thing would need to be exposed, and he said that he didn’t disagree, but that we’d need to tread carefully and all that.” Her peeved tone said a lot. “So for now, all you guys can do is watch your backs.”
“I’ll pass the message on,” said Foggy. “Thanks for the heads up.”
She called Jennifer first, as the one who was going to be most affected by this latest development. “Mind if I email all three of you with my general history with Bruce? I’d rather you, at least, hear it all from me first.”
“Go ahead,” said Foggy. “Though be careful; you don’t know what they have on you and what they don’t. I mean, if you called Karen right now she’d probably send it to you.”
“She’d be a much more decent person than most of the media people I’ve met, then,” said Jennifer, whose main source of information about Karen had been Marci. “But all right, give me her number.”
That left Foggy feeling cross enough at Marci she just texted her before calling Matt. “You know,” he said, “Jessica Jones never paid me. Of course she never quite officially accepted me as her attorney either. Maybe we could get her to investigate this investigation into us. Or at least give us advice on making life harder for the investigator, since she knows how they do things.”
“We can pay her for either, don’t be cheap,” said Foggy. “I’m happy to.”
Except when she got there, it was instead Malcolm Ducasse who unlocked and opened the door. “Jessica’s out right now,” he said, “and I don’t know how she’ll be when she comes back in. We were closed long enough we pretty much have to rebuild our clientele, so we haven’t gotten many jobs yet.”
“Well,” said Foggy, “Matt and I might just have one for you, and Marci and Jennifer might also help provide you with work, though we haven’t discussed this with them yet.”
“You want us to find out who’s been stalking Ms. Walters?” Malcolm grinned. “You realize they might not even be in the city? People can hack emails from anywhere.”
“You think you can’t handle that?” Foggy asked challengingly.
“Nice try. If they’re just hacking, we can track that, but if they live on the other side of the country, we are not going to fly across it to nail exactly who they are. Well, unless you can pay for business-class plane tickets.”
Foggy briefly considered how much money she was willing to sink into this. Then she said, “Even tracking down who they are vaguely could be a huge help. We could potentially lawyer our way at them from there.” Especially if they had the Avengers lend aid, which they might if this got big enough. She wondered how dishonest it was to not mention that, though she really couldn’t. “Besides, we’re pretty sure they’re looking for the kind of dirt on us that would require them to have someone in this city sooner or later. Or if you really think this is going to be too big for you, you could still give us advice.”
“Oh no,” Malcolm laughed, “that you’re never going to get from Jessica, and I’m still too new at this. Sorry.”
“So professional work alone it is, then,” said Foggy. “I’m afraid so far we don’t have much for you to go on…should we wait for Jessica?”
“She could be a while, maybe even hours. I can fill her in later. Besides, the one thing we do have is one she’ll realize herself: what your husband’s got for them to find. He is the Daredevil, isn’t he? I was thinking it even before I saw Jessica carry that box in here for him; I assume it had his stuff in it, because you knew your apartment was going to be searched. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be holding that in confidence simply as the professional thing to do.”
Foggy had pretty much expected that he’d figured that out; she’d seen enough at the Harlem precinct to be aware he was smarter than he seemed at first glance. Still, it was unsettling to say, “Yes, he is. Which is a problem when we’re pretty much known to be connected to him.”
“Give me all the details on that, then,” said Malcolm. “Any facts anyone knows besides the two of you and Ms. Page-I’m assuming she’s trustworthy-any stories that people generally believe, anyone you’re acquainted with who’s ever seemed overly interested in your relationship with him, especially recently-there’s a good chance you two are being investigated already. You might want to ask Ms. Page for anything else she’s seen or heard in her line of work.”
It was a strange feeling, talking about her husband’s greatest secrets and how she’d dealt with them to someone who was still pretty much a stranger. But Malcolm had a kind face and a kind voice, and the comments he made were sympathetic. He was exactly the kind of assistant the more prickly Jessica needed, she thought.
When she’d finished telling him everything she could think of, he said, “The expert opinion will be Jessica’s, of course, but I think there are at least of couple of misleading tricks we can pull. Best bet is to send them on a very long chase to prove a false theory. I…don’t suppose we could somehow enlist your friend Detective Mahoney in the effort?”
Foggy felt the temptation, but still shook her head. “Can’t risk it. Too much chance he’ll react the wrong way.” Though she’d always wondered if he suspected, especially since it would explain his never asking them very many questions about their masked friend. Which was why she added, “He really should’ve be involved at all, even unwittingly.”
“Just as well. I really didn’t want to involve the cops anyway, and I’m pretty sure Jessica will feel the same way about it. Besides, I figured one of the three of you would object to that.”
After a moment of thinking about that last sentence, Foggy found herself asking, “How much do you and Jessica know about us?”
He shook his head. “She hasn’t talked to me about that. But that much I knew just from keeping you and Ms. Page company in the precinct. And really, you didn’t think she wouldn’t go looking into those after that adventure we all shared, did you?”
“And do you have those written down anywhere anyone could find them?”
Malcolm held up his hands. “All we’ve got written is what I just put down now. She’s made a few comments about lawyers.” He sounded like he might agree with her there.
Foggy knew she should let it go. She’d just hired these people to do what they did, after all. But maybe it was the stress of the recent weeks, or maybe it was the awareness that the people who had taken them to their clients had to have been stalking them themselves for at least a few days, that caused her to instead march up to the desk and say, “Listen, Mr. Ducasse, I want to trust you, especially because my husband really seems to trust your boss, and he can actually tell when people aren’t being honest with him-which, by the way, is the only reason I don’t think he’s being an idiot there…”
“Ms. Nelson,” Malcolm’s tone changed completely. “Please remember we have not accepted you as our clients yet, and I don’t need any women like you talking to me like that.”
“Like me?” Foggy demanded indignantly.
“Yeah, you condescending…”
“Hello, Malcolm,” a voice interrupted him from the door. “Are you still here? Oh, I know you? You’re Jeri’s lapdog, the one that sent her husband to make sure I didn’t cause her any trouble.”
Foggy found herself seriously reconsidering whether she wanted these people’s help after all as she turned around. The sight of Jessica didn’t help. She was in her usual getup with her leather jacket, but her jeans were covered in stains that definitely weren’t alcohol, although they didn’t look like blood either. Her hair also looked like it had gotten hit by some liquid. She seemed to hold her liquor relatively well; she was pretty vertical and not stumbling, though maybe her steps weren’t exactly steady either. Her smirk was definitely a drunk one, but her eyes were way too dull, in a way that would make Foggy worry for her mental health under different circumstances.
“Really, Malcolm,” she said, “you’re not supposed to be intruding on my empty apartment late at night. Get out.”
“It’s not that late at night,” Malcolm said, and he was right, though he and Foggy had been at it for a while. “But fine, I’ll deal with you in the morning. Be nice to our new client, will you?”
“You didn’t sound like you were being!” Jessica retorted as he strolled out, which he ignored. She then walked up to her desk, and gazed at his upside-down notes. “You’re not getting a discount,” was her reaction.
“Wasn’t going to ask for one,” Foggy snapped. She had a vague idea that Jessica had gone through hell in her life, and she forced herself to breathe in and out, and say, “I can come back tomorrow. You look like you could use some water and then some sleep.”
“You really are nice, aren’t you?” She seems to be seriously contemplating Foggy, drunk as she obviously is. “Except Malcolm doesn’t talk like that to people if they’re nice.”
Foggy had gotten the same impression in Harlem, but obviously it hadn’t been quite right. “Well, tonight,” she said, “he seemed very offended by my failure to immediately trust a strange man who works for a private investigator where the police have folders on the both of them.”
Jessica’s expression darkened at that. “Maybe he had his reasons for that, ones a lawyer might or might not get, although I expected Murdock’s wife would. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have, since you do work for Jeri.”
Foggy actually couldn’t deny that she had a point with that second sentence. Still she found herself protesting, “He told me to take that job, you know.”
And that just made Jessica let out a drunken laugh, big enough of one that Foggy fear for a moment she was going to fall down, which was the main reason she didn’t just walk out. “How’d that go?” she managed. “Did he make a big speech about how you should divorce him for your own good-oh, no, wait, he’s really Catholic, isn’t he? But I’m sure he still told you that you’re better off without him. And of course you overrode him, and he probably thinks of himself as unforgivably weak over it.”
Given that Matt hadn’t spent all of that much time in the company of this woman, and for most of it they’d been pretty busy, it was a little unnerving that she’d figured all that out. It was practically a defensive move for Foggy to retort, “If he did, it’s none of your business.”
“I know.” She was still smiling wide. “But sometimes it’s hard to remember when I’m supposed to be off the job.” The smile faded, though, as she added, “But next time to you go making assumptions about a young black man with a police folder, maybe you should take a moment to consider why they made one on him in particular. Now good night.”
Jessica was right there, too, Foggy knew. Hell, she was probably going to get some words from Matt about it when she told him about all this. She would have to try to talk to Malcolm again, she thought, maybe even apologize. After they’d both slept on it.
It was a nice feeling of solidarity, of course, the four of them sitting together. But when they were getting limited in what they could discuss with each other, they seemed to have collectively decided to not talk about it at all, talking instead about the heat wave that was forecast for the next week, the novel Jennifer had recently read, and Marci’s continuing attempts to get tickets for Hamilton. (“Seriously, Foggy, how’d you pull that off?”)
At one they assembled in front of Marci’s laptop, and Ross at least didn’t keep them waiting; he was up at that podium at two minutes after. “I called this press conference today,” he said, “to refute some claims recently made against this government, as well as make a few announcements. It has been alleged that in detaining four superheroes who had flagrantly violated the Sovokia Accords, we violated various laws, and there has been an implication that we were planning to hold them there forever without trial-which would, at that time, have been a terrible human rights violation-if we had had any intention of doing it.
It would take a lot of gall for anyone to pretend that our initial confinement of the individuals in question was in violation of international law, when it was in fact exactly what the treaty we’d just ratified directed us to do. The Accords specifically require that countries responsible for superheroes restrain those who are violating them by whatever means and methods prove necessary. The whole world saw what Wanda Maximoff could do, and we don’t even know all of what Clint Barton and Scott Lang could do. The Raft was built in accordance with the special protocols now in place for those whom an ordinary prison wouldn’t hold.
And now, thanks to Steve Rogers, we actually would have justification to hold them there indefinitely. He committed an act of war upon the United States, and under the law of war, we now have the perfect right to hold him and his allies. However, we might not need to detain them on that. Later today, the Department of Justice will unveil indictments for him, Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Sam Wilson, Mr. Barton, Mr. Lang, and Ms. Natalia Romanova, whom, I am sorry to say, we now know to have allied herself with her rogue colleagues towards the end of their fight in Germany.”
That hadn’t been public knowledge; there was a loud murmur from Ross’ audience. Karen betrayed no reaction. Maybe she’d known from her own sources.
“We offer them all a fair trial,” Ross spoke over them, “and I don’t see how they can possibly demand any more than that, or any reason why they should not now do the honorable thing and turn themselves in.”
He’s done the smart maneuver, Foggy thought. She doubted instantly they’d ever get their hands on any evidence that they would have detained them indefinitely had they not been exposed, not if Ross was claiming otherwise like this. Officially, at least, he’d pulled the moral high ground out from under them. And the media and much of the public would side with him, even many of the ones with lingering doubts about his original intentions, or how fair any trials might actually be.
“I have also spent the last few days answering questions about Raft, some of which have been absurd. To state the obvious: we have never tortured anyone at the Raft.”
“Just like you never tortured anyone in Gitmo, right?” Karen murmured.
“We did nothing there that the special protocols did not require us to do, and they certainly don’t permit torture. The FBI did conduct interviews with the four prisoners, but they did so before they were even transferred to the Raft. As for why the Raft is built, it is absurd to claim it was done so to imprison any Avengers. We had very much hoped that those who presumed to call themselves our best heroes would acknowledge the law when the time finally came for them to.
But we’ve also hardly failed to notice that there are now, in our society, a good number of superpowered individuals, and we knew we would have to deal with those of them that commit crimes even before the Sokovia Accords officially required it. The Raft was built for that, and we will continue to use it as such for those who believe themselves to be so powerful they can break the law, as a reminder that noone is above it.”
“They’re doing it.” Matt’s voice is soft, but Foggy can still hear it shake with rage. When she glances over, she sees his fists wound around his cane, and also that he’s trembling. “They’re setting up a separate prison system for anyone with superpowers.”
Foggy and Karen exchanged an anxious glance. Neither of them could say this didn’t terrify them too.
“We began its construction during the negotiation of the Accords, and it was built to comply with them. However, the Department of State will soon be handing over control of it to the Department of Justice. In fact, many of the questions you no doubt have will already be more appropriate to direct to the Attorney General after the indictments are unveiled.”
“He’s not going to answer any of their questions,” sighed Marci. “But surely one of them’s going to ask if they’re really just going to send anyone they can classify as ‘super’ to the Raft without even considering whether a normal prison would hold them. I mean, it’s not like my client is different from any other man with his military training once you take his wings away.”
So they waited for that question, Foggy hearing Karen’s impatient huffs with all the questions Ross could now either defer or answer easily, before finally someone from WHiH asked it. “Not necessarily,” was Ross’ answer. “It may not be required in all cases.”
“Not good enough,” Karen muttered. It might not be; it might leave grounds for habeas still, especially in Sam Wilson’s case.
The press conference ended shortly after that. “I’ve got work to do,” Karen announced, even though Foggy had gotten the impression she wasn’t going to get to do any of the writing related to this whole saga; she was more likely just giving them a chance to talk freely, which she felt a rush of gratitude for.
Karen didn’t know, of course, that they couldn’t entirely, that when she was gone, Jennifer would say, “We need to talk, Murdock.” She supposed they could now claim that Barton and Lang had contacted them only now, and people would be less likely to believe she and Marci had also been involved, but Jennifer might or might not have to talk Matt into telling that lie.
“You can use my office if, you want,” she offered to them. She wanted to talk with Marci anyway. Now, when Matt would have his own conversation with Jennifer to concentrate on, would truly be an ideal time to do it.