Smoke and Mirrors
Chapter 1
Your lies are your life. This is what both Mike Warren, fresh out of Qauntico, and Mike Ross, fresh out of the drug business, both knew. One had an easier time with it than the other did. They never thought, on the opposite ends of the country, that they would meet, let alone get along and be caught up in a mess with the Mafia. It was all thanks to their mentors, Paul Briggs and Harvey Spector that they even met in the first place.
"Get your stuff; we're going to New York." Briggs knocked on Mike's door as the young Agent was looking over some casework on one of their recent arrests, Eddie and checking his e-mail after Felix requested the agent's personal for correspondence. They usually joked and their greeting towards each other was always Manos Arriba.
"New York?" Mike Warren turned around in his chair and raised an eyebrow at his mentor. "What for? I don't remember any cases in New York."
Briggs smirked at this, "Of course you don't, because I didn't let you see this file. I knew you'd harass me about making you my prodigy on this case. I wanted to offer it to you when I knew you could handle it. That day is today, my friend." He grinned, chucking the case at him.
Mike inspected it with a frantic nature, taking in all the details, names, ages, background, alliances with other crime syndicates, etc.
"Not Russian this time. I'm surprised." He said with a small chuckle and Briggs immediately shot him a look that said never to bring up the Russians again because that only reminded him of Lauren and the ultimate failures of her work.
"Italian. How cliché." Mike said as he skimmed over their nationalities and their histories. "They're laundering money from a racing business?" Mike asked, almost in disbelief.
"Not only that but they're also big into guns, drugs, and taking care of the family business." Briggs reminded him.
"So, we're basically walking into the Godfather?" Mike asked with a smile.
"Yes, Michael." Briggs said, imitating Vito Corleone, his hand ceremonially near his face and clutched in the hyper-Italian manner, "How come you never come over for coffee?"
"cause you don't drink coffee." Mike deadpanned before breaking out into a grin as Briggs threw a book at him from Mike's dresser by the door. "Get ready and meet me outside in twenty minutes. I have our tickets. We'll be good to go." He started walking down the hallway until he remembered something.
He walked back into Mike's room, "Bring a suit." He said, pointing and pursing his lips in thought, "Try growing a beard. "He paused and added with a laugh, "Try and look tough and not like you're from Oklahoma."
Mike rolled his eyes, "Is it cause I was watching the musical?" He sighed, "Come on man, it's a good mus-" Briggs cut him off.
"And don't talk about musicals. Not in front of these guys and especially in front of me." Briggs sighed, shaking his head before he finally disappeared and waited for Mike outside in the truck.
If you see any violent crime, you must intervene. Mike reminded himself of the FBI manual that he memorized. That one day with Briggs and Hector's Tacos; however, taught him that as an undercover agent, he shouldn't intervene. This was New York City, Mike Warren knew there would be muggings, shoot-outs, rapes, murders, kidnapping taking place but he thought it ludicrous that no one would try to intervene. It wasn't just a government duty or a civic duty, but rather a human instinct that Mike thought was inherent in everyone. He guessed some people became immune to it, especially if they lived in the city all their life.
This didn't seem like a particularly violent crime but rather a crime of passion- perhaps, just two drunk men or a case of mistaken identity- he heard strained words such as "bastard" , "idiot" "smartass". Yes, a bar fight but nonetheless the guy getting his face beaten and his body kicked didn't seem to deserve it, especially Mike noted, that his suit seemed expensive and well-kept.
The victim was getting thrown and kicked against the brick wall of a trendy bar. There was even blood staining the bricks from where the victim's face and nose were bleeding. I have to do something, Mike thought.
"Hey." Mike Warren could feel his body start to move towards the altercation. The attacker didn't seem to notice the Agent in his casual red t-shirt and jeans, until it was too late. In about two moves, an elbow to the man's ribs and a pressure point on his neck, the attacker fell to the ground surprised and frightened by Mike's calm appearance.
"What the—"The attacker started, staring wide eyed up at Mike Warren.
Mike Warren, bright blue eyes, and a serious demeanor, gestured toward the road, "Get out of here." He told the man with a neck tattoo sternly. "Leave." He repeated as the man scrambled to stand up and run in the opposite direction.
Mike Ross stared up at his savior Mike Warren. The dude looks too calm. Does he just go around like some vigilante all night? Oh my God, what if he's like Dexter? Am I going to die? Wait, I didn't kill anyone. Stay cool, Mike… The lawyer thought. What was the customary thing to do? Throw your business card at someone that saved you say, Hey, I'm a lawyer; if you're ever in trouble I'll defend you? Mike thought that might work if a girl had saved him but then again he didn't really want a girl- unless it was Donna or Rachel- saving him from a thug with a neck tattoo. In a matter of second's this all went through Mike's mind before he stood feebly up, resisting the urge to stretch for he feared one of his ribs were broken.
He let out a hoarse, "Thanks man, let me buy you a drink." What if he doesn't drink? A straight edge, perhaps? He sorta looks the type. Is he a post-punk? Do they even have those people anymore?
Mike Warren looked concernedly at the lawyer, "Is this a daily occurrence for you?" He said light heartedly.
"No, and I don't want to make it one." He laughed and gestured to the bar. "Come on, really, it's on me."
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Mike Warren raised a tentative eyebrow and he wondered if Briggs would allow him to go in there. He had been separated from Briggs- well told to go do other things while he spoke to the head honcho of the mob-
"Yeah, it's fine." The young lawyer brushed it off. The creep wasn't in there so who would possibly hurt him again? Mike Ross led the stranger into the trendy New York bar.
"So, standard question, "He told Warren, looking over his shoulder as the stranger looked intrigued by the New York scene, "This your first time here?"
"Yeah," Mike answered truthfully. "I'm from Virginia." Truth. "So you think I'd visit but…"He shrugged as if to say he never got around to it.
"Glad you're here now." Mike Ross told him as he stood at the bar and ordered a beer for him and his new friend.
He clinked the glass with Mike's and smiled, "So, what are you doing here?"
Mike Warren swallowed thickly, taking a sip of his beer and wondering what he should say. Lie or tell him the truth?
"I…." He began.
Chapter 2
Mike Warren wanted to be himself before he and Briggs took down the Italians. However, he knew that wherever he went, whenever someone accidentally bumped into him or tried to get to know him, he'd always have to have a few aliases at hand. Johnny, Paige, and Jakes had told the young agent all their aliases. Their aliases were dependent on the type of people they ran into.
Therefore, Mike tried to do what they had, size up the people they were with, think of a job that this person seemed not to know a lot about.
Suit. Tie. Loosened tie. Carries himself with a sense of importance though often looks wounded. Self-esteem issues? No, needs reassurance but not low self-esteem. Occupation some type of business, advertising? No, lawyer. Looks the time. First time lawyer. Right outta law school. Yes.
Mike Warren assumed and smiled to himself which made Mike Ross fidget on his bar stool. The bartender brought them another round of drinks just in case they finished their beers quickly.
The lawyer in Mike Ross wondered if this guy was no good. The young Agent before him gave short, curt answers and would end them with a wavering smile. He seemed a little nervous. Maybe it was because he had never visited a big city? Maybe the guy was surprised by the strength he showed moments earlier. Maybe he was gay and looking for someone to talk to? Was he gay? Ross wanted to say that he had an excellent gaydar but reluctantly spending time with Louis and too much time with Harvey blurred his lines between masculine and metrosexual. This guy was staring at Mike Ross, making him not uncomfortable but wary. What he usually did when he felt wary was to talk, to put off confidence, which was something Mike Ross always had, confidence. His middle name was arrogance. So, he was going to dazzle this pseudo-vigilante with his lawyer knowledge and general knowledge of New York.
"You in New York for long?" Mike Ross asked curiously.
"Not long, a few days." Mike answered honestly. Briggs wasn't trying to make this a huge scale operation.
Slowly, Mike could feel his former self-drifting away, he wanted to reach out and grab it, let the real Mike show for a few minutes; however, he felt Merciless Mike and Levi slipping through, infiltrating his mind and making his blood pump faster. He was changing. He was a chameleon. He was disappearing within himself.
"Go to see any tourist's attractions, yet?" Mike Ross turned in his bar stool, now facing Merciless Mike.
"Ellis Island. That's about it. I just go in a few hours ago."
"You should really check out the High line. It's an old railroad track outfitted to be this loft space." Mike informed the agent, "It's really cool."
"I'll have to check it out." Merciless Mike nodded at the suggestion but he knew he'd never get there. Part of him was sad, it sounded like an interesting place. He took another sip of his beer and he decided that this guy wasn't half bad.
Mike Ross realized they hadn't exchanged names yet, so he figured it was as a good a time as any other.
"I'm Mike by the way." He held out his hand, his black suit sleeve inching up to reveal the watch he wore, "Mike Ross." He smiled.
"Mike…." Mike Warren told the other Mike, trying to distract from the fact he didn't give him a last name, "What do you do?" He gestured to his suit, "If that's any indication, I'd guess…."
Mike Ross smiled when Mike did, not surprised to find another Mike in New York City, and he smirked when the young agent tried to guess his profession. He knew he didn't look like the lawyer type, not completely.
"Lawyer." Mike Warren responded with a proud smile as he could tell he was right.
Ross was disappointed that the guessing game was over so quickly, he hid his disappointment in his beer bottle, taking another sip of it, "Well, I bet I can guess your profession." He grinned.
"Try me." Merciless Mike returned, smirking, letting his hands grip the beer bottle he brought to his mouth, "Twenty bucks says you can't."
"We're wagering now? I like the odds." He paused, "Deal."
Mike Ross set his gray-blue eyes intently on Levi's ocean blue. He let his gaze travel down over Mike's casual attire. That certainly wasn't giving him away. But the way Mike carried himself, relaxed but on edge, diplomatic but caustic in his manner, nervous but self-assured. Hell, Mike Ross wanted to say the guy sitting next to him was first associate as well. Warren's eyes were intent on Mike's and the way the agent gazed made Mike feel like he was being taken apart and stitched back up again. An analyst perhaps? Mike remembered his old cover of selling software with Trevor and he inwardly laughed remembering his former life.
Analyst. That's what he'd go with.
"You're a computer analyst of some sort." Mike Ross decided, pointing a finger towards Mike Warren. "I'm right, aren't I?"
Mike Warren in a few seconds had to decide if he'd let Mike be right. It wasn't the money, hell, he was making decent money now, it was the fact that he wasn't sure if Mike Ross knew a lot about analysts. What if he had been one before or knew someone who was an analyst? He'd had to dodge questions and bullshit, them the whole night, he'd rather lie than seem ignorant towards his own CI's profession.
Don't puck something financial or business related. What would work well with Italians? What profession would make you be here for a couple of days?
"Unfortunately, you owe me twenty bucks." Mike Warren smiled, "I'm not an analyst, would I really be in this big of a city if I was?" He chuckled fondly, "I'd be too afraid to leave my cubicle." He said self-detractingly.
Mike Ross laughed, shaking his hand, "Damn, I knew I should have gone with FBI agent." He muttered, his gray-blue eyes meeting Merciless Mike's, "That's what you are, right?"
Mike Warren's laughter died in his throat. His eyes moved rapidly from the lawyer's eyes to his calm demeanor. Oh, shit.
Chapter 3
Mike Warren snorted with laughter, "You got me." He held up his hands and shook his head at Mike Ross.
The lawyer's eyes widened, "Holy shit, wait, am I right?"
"What? Are you kidding me, no!" Merciless Mike shook his head and clinked beer bottles with the other man, "Nice try, though. Still owe me twenty bucks." He grinned.
The lawyer didn't seem to be relenting from the topic, "No, really. What do you do? Unless you're unemployed; I'm sorry for bringing it up then."
"No, not unemployed." Something with Italians, Mike. This guy's a lawyer don't do business things. They are the mob. They look like the mob. Juan's advice about Starbucks and writing the report popped back into his mind, "I'm a screenwriter." Okay, that's fine. Hopefully he doesn't like movies too much.
"Really?" The lawyer seemed impressed and he smiled, "Why you in New York? California's much better for that."
"An audition."
"Audition?"
"I mean, a run-through for one of my….projects. It's an indie movie." He rolled his eyes at this, "I went with the low production budget cause us writers don't make a lot of money and let's be honest, all the Hollywood stiffs just change our words once it hits the screen. It's like writing for the New York Times and having your byline there but none of the words are yours. It's….beyond damaging to your ego." He chuckled and was surprised by how well he could fit into the mold of screenwriter. Maybe it's because an author had to control their characters, as Mike had to control his own.
"That's cool. Where'd you go to school for it?"
"Berkeley."
Mike Ross low whistled at this, "Impressive." He took another sip of his drink.
It was the FBI agent's turn to ask his interrogator a few questions.
"How about you?"
"Hmm?" Mike Ross raised an eyebrow.
"School. College. University, where'd you go? A brilliant lawyer like you." He added for posterity's sake and he smirked.
Mike Ross bit his lip, looking the other way past Mike Warren as his casual swagger, "I went to Harvard pre-law then Harvard Law. Passed the bar straight outta the gate." He smiled. That was true, he had passed the bar multiple times, he just never formally attended Harvard Law school unless it was to infiltrate their systems and fake a diploma and alumni records.
The agent whistled lowly in return, genuinely impressed by Mike's credibility, though he caught a hint of trepidation in Mike Ross's own gaze.
"How'd you make it through Harvard Law without passing out?" He asked.
"Besides luck?" Mike Ross laughed, "I have the fortunate talent of once I read something I understand and once I understand it, I never forget it." His tone was sincere and his gaze intense.
"Really?" Mike Warren raised an eyebrow at this. Shit. I may have to watch out for him. "That's probably a good trick to pull out at parties. Bet you're a riot at trivia contests."
"I've been to a few." He noted with a shrug and smiled at Mike's indifference towards his talent.
"You have any hidden talents?"
"Besides being able to quote Goodfella too many times?" Mike joked.
"I would consider that a regular talent that everyone needs, but, you know, like you play the accordion or…"
Mike Warren thought of something, Mike Ross could see it flicker across his face, but the young Agent seemed to be hesitant.
"What is it?" Mike Ross asked.
"I can clap with one hand." Mike let his facades drop and his face turned a light pink.
"What the hell does that sound like?"
"Uh…." Mike Warren started before he sighed, stretching out his hands that had become stiff from gripping the bottle. He proceeded to clap with one hand the sound was a faint slapping sound that reminded both men of something they'd rather not discuss in public.
Mike Ross grinned against the rim of his beer bottle before taking a sip.
"Dude," He continued, trying to hold in his laughter but he exploded with it, his head tipped back and his smile wide.
"You should keep that talent hidden."
Mike Warren rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. He felt his phone buzz and there was a message from Briggs stating he needed to come to the hotel.
"I gotta go," He told Mike, finishing his beer and putting some money to cover the beer.
"Really, it's no trouble." Mike Ross stated, handing the agent his money along with the twenty dollars he owed him, "A deal's a deal." He smiled.
As Mike Warren got up to leave, the other man stood up and handed him his card, "In case you get into any trouble with some directors." He chuckled.
"Thanks." Mike Warren patted Mike Ross on the shoulder. As he walked out of the bar, past the corner where he still saw the shadow of the slumped and bleeding Mike Ross, he thought he'd never see the lawyer again. That was, until the following day.
Chapter 4
The following day, lawyer! Mike and Harvey accompanied one of their clients to some business meeting, without knowing that said client was doing some money laundering business. And it's no surprise the business partner was accompanied by suit-clad Mike Warren and Paul Briggs. This un-expected reunion of Warren and Ross almost caused Ross to accidentally blow Warren's cover. But fortunely Mike Ross is a genius (so is Warren) so everything turns out to be fine and... and whatever happens next.
Six o'clock wake up call, this is something Mike Warren was used to and was an expert at waking up at ungodly hours. However, his partner, mentor, sensei, was not a graceful morning person.
Mike fixed his bed as his mother taught him. He quickly took a shower and tried not to let himself be tempted by the hotness of the water and the hardness of the water pressure. He took the liberty of washing his hair and towel drying it. He had bought some gel from a hair salon and decided to style it like he was Joe Peschi in Goodfellas. He thought fondly for a moment upon the fellow Mike he saved from the crooks and bonded with in the bar. With a sigh, Warren checked the time and saw that he was on schedule but Briggs was not.
"Briggs, wake up." Mike sighed, his arm resting against the door of Brigg's hotel room, "We need to get going." He muttered.
"Okay." Briggs called out to Mike, a shoe ceremoniously hitting the door which made Mike smile.
The young Agent stepped away from the door as Briggs opened it, dressed in a smart suit with his beard trimmed.
"Thought you almost shaved it for a moment, thought I was going to have to mourn the loss of your facial hair." He teased.
Briggs rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag, "Don't act like a smartass, that'll get you killed today."
Despite his fellow name sharer's ability to wake up early, Mike Ross was not so fortunate to have the ease that Mike Warren possessed.
He groaned inwardly at the blaring of his alarm clock. Why did lawyers- even first years- have to wake up so god damned early? Rolling over with the strength of a person who was too sore from playing tennis with Louis, Mike pressed the snooze button on his alarm proceeding then to yank it out by the cord. Reluctantly, he sat up and eventually moved away from his bed and grabbed his shirt, tie, trousers, and suit jacket. Mike Ross took the quickest shower of his life when he heard his cell phone ringing only the song meant for Harvey. He towel dried his hair and with a towel wrapped around his waist, he answered the phone.
"Yeah?" He said irritated.
"Yeah? That's how you greet the guy that's saving your life?" Harvey shook his head, walking out onto the New York streets and getting into a cab, "We have a big day ahead of us. Act and dress accordingly. "He paused, "Bring me a bagel while you're at it."
Mike made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat that made Harvey shut the phone quickly and with a snap.
The young lawyer was late to Pearson (the latter name of Hardman being since removed). As he rushed into the office he was met by the disapproving glare of Harvey.
"You're late," He walked past the cubicles and past Donna's desk before giving her a pointed look, "He didn't get you a bagel."
"Mike!" Donna look astonished, "How could you forget my blueberry bagel with low-fat cream cheese?" She cajoled him.
Mike stuttered, "He, I…uh…." He paused, "Donna, really, I would have gotten you one if Harvey told me."
Donna sighed deeply and turned to wink at Harvey.
Harvey snatched the bagel out of Mike's hand and took a generous and ferocious bite, "Next time," He poked Mike in the chest, "You get Donna a bagel."
Mike bit his lower lip and reluctantly followed Harvey into his office, "What do you have for me?" He asked.
Harvey sat in his chair and watched Mike fumble with the basketballs and baseballs on the ledge in his office. Mike tossed a baseball in the air, letting it fall from his hands as it rolled on the floor.
Harvey cringed, "Mike, stop fidgeting."
"Yes, sir," Mike replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and putting the baseball away. "So, the case?" He reminded Harvey.
"There is a big shot Italian, Mr. Borghese who is having some trouble with some of his estates and people embezzling money from him." Harvey explained, "Problem is, Mr. Cannoli over here is stubborn as a bull and won't see what a good thing when he sees it." He gestured to himself, "So, we're going to talk to him today to work out the margins in our agreement. He doesn't want to settle but I think he should."
Harvey motioned to Donna to walk into the office. She coolly brushed past Mike and handed Harvey the file.
"Read up. These guys are tough and I don't need you messing things up for me." Harvey informed Mike sternly, handing him the file.
Mike Ross sighed, taking the file reluctantly and flipping through it.
"You better be ready, Mike." Briggs sternly looked at Mike Warren.
"I am."
"No, I don't think you understand the severity of this." Briggs continued, "This isn't Bello, which we pulled off by the skin of our teeth, this is Borghese. He's the real deal. He's old school. He's Italian."
"So, it's like Goodfellas?" Mike raised an eyebrow, "We better not be like Joe Peschi and get wacked."
Briggs pursed his lips at this, grabbed his bag and smoothed down the front of his suit. He walked out their hotel door and disappeared into the city streets.
Mike Warren followed his mentor out by imitating Joe Pesci, "Karen, put the gun down Karen. KAREN!"
Chapter 5
It wasn't an abandoned warehouse they were meeting in or the docks where Mike Warren dreaded and expected to be meeting the Italians. They met in a small restaurant- the Italian's cover for their money laundering business- crudely furnished with bad antique finds and 1980's decorations. It was trying for old world but ended up looking like a bad movie set threw up on it.
"Now remember, act confident. Don't do anything until I give you the nod." Briggs sternly reminded him, casting his dark eyes on Mike Warren before he clapped his hands and made his way through the restaurant.
"Vito!" Briggs called out to the head honcho, Mr. Borghese. Mike Warren found his name terrible ironic and wondered if he really wasn't a screenwriter meeting some Italian actors.
Mr. Borghese was a stereotypically fat man though he did have muscle. His broad shoulders made his black suit too tight and a few buttons strained against his carb-loaded belly. He had two other men with him, both lean and looking like the may have had military training by the way they carried themselves.
Mike Warren adjusted the front of his grey suit jacket. His eyes strayed to meet Mr. Borghese and the man smiled,
"Pleasure to meet you, Mike, is it?"
"Yes, sir." Mike responded with a wavering smile.
"Sit down." The man gestured to a booth.
Mike complied, not looking at Paul for confirmation. He figured doing what Mr. Borghese was better than following Briggs.
"I unfortunately have to meet another associate of mine today." Mr. Borghese reluctantly told Briggs.
Briggs raised a dark eyebrow and pronounced in an authentic Brooklyn accent, "Who Vito? I understand time is money and you want to hit two birds with one stone, but you could have told me." He laughed hollowly.
Vito patted Briggs on the back, "In due time, Paul. I want you to meet these men first, then we'll discuss business."
Mike Warren was sweating through his suit and his heart was pounding in his chest. Who were these men? Would they mess everything up?
The restaurant door opened, an overhead bell ringing and signifying the entrance of two men dressed in expensive suits. The first man to walk into the door was striking in his authoritative presence and Mike could see him rivaling Briggs for biggest macho man. The man had dark brown gelled back hair and was wearing a smart pinstripe suit. He carried a ink colored suitcase and held himself with importance.
"Mr. Borghese. I'm here to go over the final reading of what the deposition includes." He said, his dark eyes ghosting from the Italian, his men and finally to the agents.
"I didn't know we were having a party." He joked, laughing slightly and seemingly the least bit intimidated by the men. "That's okay; I brought a guest of my own. My associate, Mike Ross."
Mike Warren raised his eyebrows high and he felt his hands grip the table. Mike Ross? The Lawyer? Oh God, he couldn't see him. Mike turned from the door but at that moment, Mike Ross came crashing through the restaurant door, breathing heavily with files grasped tightly in his hand, "I have the documents." He said, suddenly realizing where he was and going pale for a moment as he noticed how many people were in here.
"I always knew Italians had big families, but…"His gray-blue eyes glanced over towards Briggs and widened as he saw Mike Warren, the screenwriter dressed in a smart suit, "I didn't know they always brought them to their lawyer meetings." He joked in a manner that Harvey did, light but still courteous.
Harvey Spector sat down in the proffered seat that Mr. Borghese offered him. Mike followed suit, letting go of the files for a moment and setting them on the table.
Mike Ross turned to look at the sweating but seemingly calm Mike Warren,
"Mike, I didn't know you liked pizza." He teased, ignoring the conversation of Mr. Borghese.
The Velvet Underground's "Oh, Sweet Nothing" played over the radio and made the air stale with sixties guitar vibrations and a foreboding sense of danger.
"And that's where you guys come in. during the deposition the Zane and his prosecutors will try to undermine you, but my associate and I are here to make sure that doesn't happen." Harvey smiled at Mr. Borghese and his men and gestured to Mike Ross.
Mike Ross nodded in agreement and produced the papers the Italians needed to sign, "Just initial here, and sign there." He pointed to the corresponding points on the map of the deposition.
"I, uh, yeah. I do." Mike stuttered, in that moment neither his CI of Mike helping the Italians, Merciless Mike or Levi. He was just Mike, fresh out of Quantico, wishing his cover wasn't blown.
Briggs tensed at the Mikes' exchange noting with his gaze the question no one dared speak.
"How do you two know each other?" One of the lean Italians finally spoke the question and Mike Warren shook his head,
"We don't. Change meeting in a bar." That much was true.
Mike Ross noticed that this was not the Mike he met in the bar and he felt a overwhelming suffocating presence well up in his chest. He'd try to save his new friend's hide,
"I was eyeing his girl in a bar." He muttered with a laugh, "Guy punched my lights out." He gestured to the bruises and cuts still not fading on his face.
"Didn't think I'd run into this fucking bastard again." He continued.
Mike Warren only smiled, trying to look arrogant and full of confidence, he managed it.
"Hey, you had a hot little Italian piece." He tried not to recall Charlie to his mind but his body betrayed him and he wished she were there.
The young lawyer just snorted with laughter, "Yeah, I know. You think I don't deserve her." He glanced over at the lean men who seemed to accept this as truth.
Harvey raised an eyebrow at the incessant and unnecessary chatter Mike Ross and Mike Warren were producing. He pointedly looked at Mr. Borghese as if to apologize. He continued,
"If you are hiding any evidence from the courts, they will find it and I will not be a happy camper." Harvey narrowed his eyes at Borghese who only gave a gruff snort and motioned to his men. They produced a suitcase of money, totaling in at least half a million dollars.
Harvey's eyes widened in confusion and Mike Ross bit his lower lip. The young lawyer's eyes slide to meet Mike Warren's devastatingly blue gaze. Had they gotten away with whatever Warren was trying to do?
Time slowed down at that moment. Harvey was about to close the suitcase, shaking his head no that they didn't need that kind of money; though his services were expensive they weren't that expensive. However, Harvey did not get to close the case or even utter his humble and sarcastic words.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Mike's partner, who Mike Ross heard offhandedly called Paul, uttered this phrase. Mike Ross cocked his head slightly to the side at this statement, why was Mike's director telling Harvey and then this?
But, he wasn't telling Harvey this. He was looking at Borghese with a sickeningly sweet smile. Mike Warren's eyes weren't glued to Paul or his actions, but rather, to Mike Ross and his confused expression. The young agent could see the calculations beginning in Mike Ross's brain, the inkling that Merciless Mike was never a screenwriter nor was Paul a director. This suspicion was confirmed when the FBI swat team surrounded the Italians, Harvey, Mike and the agents.
The Italian men looked pissed tremendously, snarling and fighting against the FBI. Harvey and Mike immediately submitted, Harvey angrily uttering that he was a lawyer, working for the Pearson law firm and that he would be suing everyone. Mike Ross was quiet, intent on focusing on Mike Warren, the non-screenwriter who was either a thug or an FBI agent.
Mike Warren struggled against the other FBI agents, cursing in rudimentary Italian and talking about how he was the next Scorsese. He was bond by cuffs, straining his back as he was pulled away by and FBI agent. As he left, cursing and pissed off, he smiled and winked at Mike Ross.
They were all dragged off to the precinct down at 34th street. The Italians were ushered past by the swat team of the FBI who made sure neither of the men ran into the director and screenwriter.
Mike Ross and Harvey Spector were only detained for a matter of minutes.
"Thanks, boys." Briggs clapped the shoulder of Harvey who seemed disturbed by this man's close contact.
"You ruined my deal. Harvey muttered angrily.
"What? You didn't even notice these guys were in the money laundering business? They used the restaurant as their cover. You think they were suing the other restaurant because their risotto was too dry?" He snorted with laughter and Harvey's eyes flickered with malice,
"I was trying not to be judgemental. I just wanted my money and I wanted them to get the justice they deserved."
"Well, they will be getting the justice they deserve." Mike Warren piped up, now with a navy blue FBI jacket around his shoulders instead of the suit-jacket.
"We weren't expecting you two there." Briggs continued, now looking at Ross. "Nice save back there kid." He chuckled,
"Mikey here couldn't try and steal a girl if she was willing to leave you." He joked.
Mike Warren frowned at this, the use of his nickname in front of Mike Ross and the inability to see his confidence with certain women.
Mike Ross laughed, "I'm just glad that we got out of that Goodfella situation. I thought I was gonna get wacked!" He exclaimed, both Briggs and Harvey rolling their eyes.
"Oh for fuck's sake, what's with you and the Goodfellas this week?" Harvey sighed and Briggs continued,
"Don't get me started, Mike's sitting here in the car with his suit on listening to Bobby Darin and going KAREN. PUT THE GUN DOWN KAREN." Briggs muttered, "I wanted to get a gun and just shoot his face off."
Harvey laughed at this and then patted Briggs' shoulder in return, "Seems like we have annoyance with our little prodigies in common."
"Yeah, we do." Briggs noted with a grin, "Mind if I buy you a drink?"
"You can buy me two for the money you lost me." Harvey said smoothly.
"I think I have enough for that." Briggs chuckled, looking back at his Mike. "Meet us at that bar in ten minutes. You have some explaining to do." Him and Harvey disappeared out onto the streets of New York.
"So…." Mike Ross raised a dark blond eyebrow at Mike Warren. "You're not a screenwriter."
"How'd you guess?" Mike Warren teased.
"For one, you didn't even quote The Departed. That's quality crime noir right there." Mike Ross noted.
Mike Warren raised a hand to his heart and feigned pain, "Ah, I'm so sorry. Let me just call Scorsese up and see if he can meet us at the bar." He paused, "But, uh, thanks for saving my ass back there."
"Don't worry." Mike Ross shook his head, "I've felt helpless before and I knew I'd never want to feel like that again, so, I didn't want you to feel that way in front of guys who definitely live the Goodfella life." He paused, "I didn't even know they were laundering money, usually I'm pretty good with seeing through people."
"Could you see through me?" Mike whispered.
" A little." The lawyer said reluctantly.
"The lies seem to be my life."
"Just don't let them consume your life." The lawyer reminded him softly, patting his friend on the shoulder, "How about I buy you a drink?" He grinned, "For you know, saving my life before and then you can buy me one for saving your ass."
"Sounds like a deal." Mike Warren grinned, following his newfound friend out into the streets of New York.
"I felt so helpless and I didn't even want to feel that way again."