Mike was positively bursting with questions, but it seemed Harvey was hardly in the mood for talking. Without even waiting for acknowledgement, the older man started heading back into the county jail.
"I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist at the desk said, "Visiting hours for the general public are over."
"I'm an attorney," Harvey said shortly. "According to your sign, I have twenty-seven minutes."
"I'll need to check your identification - "
"And now twenty-six minutes."
The receptionist looked at Harvey nervously. "If you'll please leave your driver's license at the desk, I can let you in now. Who is your client?"
Despite himself, Mike suppressed a smile as he followed Harvey and a security guard through the county jail facilities. Harvey certainly had a knack for getting his way, there was no doubting that.
Once inside one of the visitation rooms, Harvey nodded curtly at the lone picnic table. "Sit."
Obediently, Mike sat down. The other man didn't appear any more receptive to talking, but he licked his lips anyway and tried, "Look - "
"Not now."
The buzzer at the door sounded, and Trevor appeared, escorted by the security guard. "Twenty four minutes," the guard said, before locking the door.
Trevor's eyes swung wildly between Mike and Harvey, and then to Mike's utter surprise, he blurted, "Harvey, man, you've got to give Mike his job back. I swear I never would have asked for his help if - "
"Here's what's going to happen," Harvey interrupted, his tone as frigid as ice, "You are going to stop talking right now. If your mouth moves, it better only be to answer any and all questions that I have. And you are going to answer them all honestly."
Trevor's mouth snapped shut and he nodded.
"Good. I'll make no secret of the fact that I'd rather be prosecuting you than defending you," Harvey said, folding his arms across his chest, "But circumstances have forced my hand. So since I'm putting my reputation on the line for you, if I later find out that you lied to me and made a liar of me, I will personally throw you in prison and ensure you stay there for the rest of your sorry life. Is that clear?"
For the first time in his life, Mike saw Trevor mute.
With speed and precision, Harvey led him through recollecting the testimony. Every now and then he paused Trevor's recanting of events every once in awhile to ask for clarification. Trevor's story matched exactly the details that Mike remembered. That, at least, lent credence to the idea that Trevor could be telling the truth. His friend had never been good at maintaining consistent lies.
"Are you going to help me?" Trevor said, at the end, when Harvey's questions ceased.
Mike recognized the expression on Harvey's face at the question, the look that was Harvey's patented that-was-such-a-stupid-question-I-don't-even-know-what-to-say look. And predictably, Harvey didn't deign to respond. He simply gathered his notes into a file folder, tucked it under his arm, strode to the door, and called out for the guard.
Trevor swung his gaze to Mike, desperate. "Is he?"
"He wouldn't have come here for no reason," Mike said.
"Does that mean yes?"
"It means we stand a chance."
He caught up with Harvey outside the county jail.
Without slowing his pace, the older man said, "File a subpoena for the 911 audio tape."
"We have the CAD transcript."
"We have the prosecution's copy of the CAD transcript," Harvey corrected, "I want the tape."
"Oo-kay."
"Good."
To his embarrassment, Mike almost felt compelled to break out into a jog to keep up with Harvey's pace. "Hang on," he said.
His thoughts were a jumble.
Why was Harvey here? Had he come to help? But why would he have come to help? The older man had made his feelings about Trevor perfectly clear on more than one occasion. And yet he had helped Trevor once before...
Ridiculous as it was, Mike wanted desperately to believe that Harvey was here to help him. He knew the man had a heart despite his determination to project otherwise to the world, but...this was still Harvey Specter. Was this really something Harvey would do?
Or somehow, someway, could Harvey have been ordered to come to Montana? He dismissed the possibility almost immediately. Only one person had the power to order Harvey, and Mike was pretty darn sure that Jessica would have welcomed the news of his resignation rather than felt compelled to send Harvey after him.
Was he even an associate with the company any more? Harvey had made it pretty damn clear that he'd be resigning if he chose to come to Montana, and yet...could there be some hope? His heart pounded at the thought.
He didn't know which question he should ask first. He didn't even know how to phrase any of them.
So what he said was: "You never answered my question."
Harvey was silent. Mike chanced a sideways glance at him. "Hello?"
"Did you hear what I said? File a subpoena."
"You owe me an answer - " He drew to a halt, but it was too late. Shit, he wished he could take back those words.
"I owe you?" Harvey repeated incredulously. He stopped in his tracks, and pinned Mike with a look that could freeze a fire. "And where does this sense of entitlement come from, exactly?"
"You didn't give a damn about my – "
"Your what? Your feelings? I've told you before. I care about the job."
"Yes, yes I know, the great Harvey Specter only cares for himself – "
"I'm not the one who walked away."
"You gave me no choice!"
"Did I put a gun to your head?"
"Oh this analogy again?"
He didn't know why he was yelling at Harvey. He really, really didn't. All he knew was that he wanted to. This was a catharsis, an outlet for the past few days of tension and stress, and replaying that moment in Harvey's office over and over again in his mind.
A catharsis for the resentment he'd felt, at being forced to choose between his job and his friend.
Harvey drew a sharp breath, squared his shoulders. "Go file the subpoena."
"You forget I don't work for you anymore," Mike said bitterly, "You can't just order me around."
"Excuse me?" Every syllable was hard and taut with anger. "Should I fly back to New York? Is my help wanted here or not?"
So he had come out here to help.
He had flown all the way out here, for no reason other than to help him. Despite the fact that he had left.
Mike closed his eyes as shame suddenly washed over him. What was he doing? What was he saying? "Harvey, I'm - I'm sorry, okay?"
It was as if the tension had crested, crested, crested, and then broken with his apology.
The hard lines on Harvey's face relented.
Mike suddenly felt exhausted as he admitted, "You have no idea how grateful I am that you're here. The DA, she's - she's crazy good. If she has her way, Trevor won't see the light of day until maximum sentence has been served."
"And wouldn't that be a tragedy," Harvey said, his voice just a few shades shy of acerbic. "I'm going to get some sleep. Call me when you have the tape."
And with a terse nod, he was gone.
The tape arrived the following afternoon. Harvey instructed him to bring all the evidence, including the tape, to his hotel room.
Harvey answered the door at his first knock, and Mike gaped at him. "A three-piece suit? Really? In your own hotel room?"
Like a sane person, he had elected to dress comfortably: a well-worn grey T-shirt and blue jeans. He hadn't given much thought to his wardrobe choice that morning, but now, standing next to Harvey, who was dressed in what was likely a $12,000 suit, he felt a bit out of place.
"Appearance," Harvey said, with a hint of reprove in his tone, "always matters."
"Nobody's even here," Mike muttered, as he stepped inside the lavish suite. Harvey must have booked a room at the only five-star hotel in all of Montana, because his suite was nice. Leather sofas, beautiful tapestries, a four-poster bed...it definitely beat the Motel 8 he was staying at.
"So nice to know you consider yourself 'nobody,'" Harvey said dryly, seating himself in one of the armchairs.
"I didn't - I didn't mean - well, being 'Nobody' worked for Odysseus with the Cyclops." Mike heaved a sigh as he dropped to the sofa, shrugging off his brown satchel.
Harvey raised an eyebrow.
"Homer's Odyssey?" Mike tried.
Nothing.
"It's a Greek classic?"
"I recognized the allusion."
"It's just, you had no look of recognition on your face. You know?"
Harvey's expression really wasn't giving him very much to work with. "Forget it," Mike said, deciding that now was probably a good time to change the subject, "I've got the CD of the 911 call."
"Good." Deftly, Harvey popped the CD into the room's sound system and settled back in the armchair, the remote control in his hand.
It was a simple action, but it changed the entire atmosphere of the room; the quiet tension – their forced attempts at levity – dissipated. This was just another case. This was the two of them, working together, in their element.
The room filled with sound.
"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"
Frowning, Harvey stopped the playback, turned up the volume, and restarted it.
"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"
Stopped. Restarted.
"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"
What was he looking for? What was he doing? Mike leaned forward. "What - " he began.
Harvey held up a hand, forestalling the question. "Listen closely. At the very beginning, during the dialing." He started the track again. One dial. Two dial.
And there. There it was. A laugh. Practically indiscernible, but definitely unmistakable.
"Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"
Harvey stopped the track. "You hear that?"
"A laugh," Mike said slowly.
"Our smoking gun," Harvey said, with a satisfied smile. He replayed the tape in entirety. "Given that laugh at the beginning, does the rest of the conversation sound like two terrified young women? Or two women playacting for the camera?"
From that perspective, Mike reread the transcript. "They were taunting Trevor toward the end of the call. They weren't afraid. They were hamming it up for dispatch." He shook his head in amazement. "How did you know to get the tape?"
"It was a hunch. The fact that the prosecution's evidence only contained the CAD dispatch was a major red flag. Why wouldn't she submit the audio tape into record as well?"
The CAD transcript, Mike recalled, started logging when dispatch picked up a call. The audio tape, on the other hand, began recording the moment the call came in, providing valuable additional seconds of information.
"Will it be enough?" he said.
"By itself? Maybe not. But it's a start."
The two were silent for a moment, both deep in thought.
"Even if that flies, there's still the question of the truck," Mike pointed out, "The PI reported nothing was wrong with the brakes or the steering."
"The picture of the truck interior does show that the emergency brake was up. His fishtail could have been genuine, especially if he panicked and put the brake up too quickly."
Mike pulled it out and inspected it carefully. Harvey was right. The emergency brake was up. But still...
And then it hit him. "The brakes could have been perfectly functional," he realized, "But maybe they still failed."
"Say again? Coherently."
Giddy with his realization, Mike grinned broadly as he turned the photo around to show Harvey. "Look at all that crap in his truck, especially all those empty beer bottles and soda cans on the floor. What if one of them was wedged under the brake when he pressed it? After the truck fishtailed and hit the hedges, it might have been knocked free, hence why it doesn't show in the picture."
A slow smile began to spread across Harvey's face; Mike warmed to see it. "That sounds like enough for reasonable doubt."
"You think we've got a case?"
Harvey's eyes gleamed. "We've got a case."
They called for another meeting with Martha Mays.
She did a double take when she saw Harvey, her eyes assessing him suspiciously.
"Harvey Specter," he said, proffering a hand.
"Martha Mays." She glanced around the room, looking at both Trevor and Mike. "Two lawyers for a trivial case of aggravated assault?"
"Considering the evidence you attempted to obfuscate, yes," Harvey said easily. "Please, have a seat."
Mike reflected back to his own ignored handshake, and thought for a moment how unfair it was that Harvey had so easily taken control over the situation.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mays said derisively. "I made all my evidence available to your boy there."
Harvey smiled pleasantly. "You seem like you're an experienced lawyer, Ms. Mays. I find it difficult to believe that you wouldn't have cross-checked the CAD transcript with the 911 audio tape."
Her eyes flickered. "As would I."
A safe answer. A neutral answer.
"Mike?" Harvey prompted.
Mike reached into his suit jacket and withdrew the CD, flipping it casually between his fingers.
"You do realize that if this case goes to trial, we will play the 911 audio recording for the jury," Harvey said.
She looked at him boldly. "For what purpose, exactly?"
"Oh I think you know. Why else wouldn't you be planning to enter it into evidence?"
"All the relevant information from that audio recording is captured in the CAD transcript. All the facts."
"All the dialogue," Harvey agreed blandly. "Now I have been in this business for quite awhile, Ms. Mays. From my experience, when an audio recording is available, it is usually used. Juries are so often more easily swayed when they can hear the fear and the panic, instead of reading off a transcript. Now," he smiled, "I've listened to the recording. Ms. Bell and Ms. Cooper certainly sound frightened enough. Quite a convincing act. Given their talents, I'm astonished you would have elected to use the transcript rather than the recording."
"You dare suggest that they were pretending?"
"Oh, I'll do more than suggest. I'll prove that they were pretending."
She smiled, mirthlessly. "Good luck with that, Mr. Specter. Good luck convincing any member of that jury that a man understands the fear two young woman might feel when confronted by a hostile, dangerous man."
"Then why not enter the record into evidence? What are you afraid of?"
"Absolutely nothing," she snapped.
"Then enter the recording."
At Harvey's nod, Mike pushed the CD across the table. Mays stared at it for a long time, her lips puckering, and Mike hastily suppressed a smile. She was cornered. She was cornered, and she damn well knew it.
"It's not for you, Mr. Specter, to tell me how I should run my case."
Harvey smiled. "That tells me all I need to know."
"You're far off the mark," she snapped. "Besides, I could still call Mr. Ross to the stand to testify against the defendant's character."
"Objection, relevance," he shot back.
She responded as if addressing a judge: "Your Honor, I am trying to establish a pattern of the defendant's past behavior as they pertain to this case."
"Your Honor, there is nothing in Michael Ross's testimony that is related to charges of assault or aggravated assault."
"There is a record of alcohol and drug abuse!"
"As I said, relevance." Harvey smiled, a self-assured smile.
"I could still use his testimony to establish the defendant's credibility."
"Objection, bad character evidence. Defense has not opened the door by introducing good reputation evidence, and the defendant isn't testifying. On what grounds does the prosecution need to establish credibility?"
A beat.
Mike had to fight hard to keep the grin off his face. Harvey in his element was always a sight to behold. This was the kind of lawyer he had wanted to be.
"Are we done?" Mays said coldly.
"Take the settlement," Harvey advised.
She gave a bark of laughter. "That's cute. See here, Mr. Specter, I think you overestimate yourself. You swagger in here, with your expensive suit and slicked hair, and you think the jury will fall for your charm. This is Montana, sir." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Come to think of it, if you're not a member of the state bar, then you have no business acting as counsel."
Crap. Mike's stomach clenched. That particular obstacle hadn't even crossed his mind.
"I would never make such a rookie mistake," Harvey snorted. "Would you like to see my certificate of good standing?"
Mike was so relieved that he didn't even bother with indignation at Harvey's pointed insult. Of course Harvey was prepared. Harvey was always prepared.
"You still dare presume that you understand the people of Montana better than I do?"
"Why not make a wager of it?"
"I do not play games with serious matters!"
"Ah, but just earlier you called this a trivial case?"
Her eyes glittered with anger.
"Oh rest assured that I happen to agree with you," Harvey said patronizingly, "This case is child's play."
Something changed in her face, something like a smirk. "Then why not let the child play?"
It took a few seconds before it dawned on Mike that both lawyers were looking directly at him.
Harvey had a distinct look of satisfaction on his face, and Mike had the sudden realization that Harvey had deliberately led her to that suggestion. "Bring in Ms. Monique Bell for an interview," he said, "I'll bet that my associate can destroy her credibility within fifteen minutes."
"Destroy her credibility?"
"Catch her in a lie," Harvey said easily.
She considered. "The conversation will be on the record?"
"On the record, with no questioning or prompting from either you or me. Standard rules of cross-ex."
"And if he fails?"
"Defense will not enter the audio recording into evidence."
What the hell was Harvey doing? How could he be so willing to declare inadmissible one of their integral pieces of evidence?
"And if he succeeds," Harvey continued, "Prosecution will agree to drop all charges against my client."
"And when will this...exercise...take place?"
"How does tomorrow morning sound?"
She appraised Mike with hungry eyes, the eyes of a wolf that has just seen easy prey. "Agreed."
He clamped down hard on his alarm.
"We will, of course, need your signature on this written agreement," Harvey said, reaching into his suit jacket and withdrawing a folded piece of paper. "Can I offer you a pen?"
The second the door clanged shut behind Mays, Mike burst out, "Are you insane? You just agreed to throw out one of our best pieces of evidence!"
"Only if you fail."
"Harvey, we had a good case! We had the recorded laugh, we had the reasonable doubt with the brakes functionality – "
"We also had a highly unlikeable defendant with a criminal record, and a jury that would most likely be sympathetic to three women. Our case was highly dependent on speculation."
Mike ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "But all we need is speculation. We don't have the burden of proof. And you, you're supposed to be the best goddamn lawyer around. Are you seriously telling me that Harvey Specter thought he couldn't sway a jury?"
Harvey's eyes narrowed. "Let's say I'm confident enough that even if you fuck it up, I still believe I could convince the jury. Even without the recording."
"But why even bother brokering the deal with her?"
Was it because Harvey was giving him a chance to prove himself? To redeem himself for leaving? To fix the rift between them? Mike realized with amazement that he wanted that opportunity more than anything.
"Do you have any idea how long it takes before a case goes to trial?" Harvey said flatly, "Months. I'm not interested in waiting that long. With this wager, we could have everything resolved in a day."
Oh. Of course it hadn't been because Harvey had wanted to give him a chance to regain some respect.
"You gave me less than twenty-four hours to prepare!"
"Stop complaining. Mays' witness also has less than twenty-four hours to remember every detail of whatever goddamn stories she's told."
"You could have at least given me a heads-up." He knew he sounded petulant, but part of him really couldn't help it. Would it have been too much for Harvey to have at least hinted something of the sort? How long did it take to say? A second? Three, maybe?
Harvey looked at him, unimpressed. "Why are you still sitting here? You've got work to do."
"I'm just saying."
"Go," Harvey said.
"You're not helping me?"
Harvey pointed at the door.
He could take a hint. This was his case, and Harvey had always been infuriatingly adamant that he should resolve his own problems. Fine. Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Mike said, "Going, going."
And it was only on the walk back to the motel that he remembered:
Harvey had called him his associate.