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"He spoke to you," he says and takes another sip. “You helped his brother when he was shot.”
“He spoke to me out of the blue,” I said, although of course I now realize that it was Harrison who spoke to me, not some random robber.
“Did he?”
I frown. Do they already know?
“Given your little experience in the bank, you might be of use to us. We could use you to get intel on him. You two share tragedy. Your parents. His younger brother. Both killed by the Russians.”
“What did you have in mind?”
He leans back. “I’m thinking we could use you as what we call a honeypot operation. You get close to him and pass on info to us.”
Of course, I realize I have to tell them the truth. “You want me to get close to him? He’d be suspicious right away if I showed up in his life so soon after the bank robbery.”
"I suspect he’s an arrogant son of a bitch. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone. He thinks he can do whatever he likes, and I suspect he likes you. From what you said, and from the video, it’s clear he was attracted to you. When he learns who you really are, I think there’ll be a natural connection to each otherthat we could exploit and use to find out what his plans are. Given your training, you could study him."
"I’m not a psychiatrist yet. I’m just a med student on a psych rotation."
“You’ll be doing a different kind of rotation. With the FBI. Look, Natalia,” he says and leans forward, his elbows on the table, his expression grim. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, ‘An offer that you can’t refuse.’ Consider this one. In other words, you really can’t refuse, unless you want to be charged with assisting in the commission of a major crime.”
“What do you mean, assisting?”
“We have witnesses that saw you speaking with O'Connor before the heist started, and you did save his brother. How are we to know you weren’t there to help out? Your father has links to the same Russian gangs that the O’Connors have been known to work with.”
“That’s crazy. Why would you think that?” I’m at a loss for what to say in response and sit for a moment with my mouth open, while McDonald shuffles some papers. “He came over to me. I didn’t go to him. I had no choice in the matter.”
“You chose to help…”
I sigh. “I didn’t want to watch the man bleed to death, no matter who he is. I’m a doctor.”
“Be that as it may, you aided and abetted an armed robbery. Unless you want to serve time for it, you better cooperate. We’ll send you in to tempt him. I guarantee you he’ll be tempted. I want you to be his psychiatrist — or girlfriend. Whatever it takes. See what you can get out of him. I know he liked you. You could play up the attraction. You’ll get full credit for what you do for us."
"I was hoping to work with police or the FBI to determine if a suspect is mentally fit for trial. I’m not the least bit interested in trying to seduce the son of an Irish Mafia Don."
"You don’t have a choice, unless the prospect of spending a decade in prison appeals to you," McDonald says. "Decide now."
I want my ordinary life back. At the same time, I don’t want to go to jail. It’s then I decide that I have to tell him the whole truth.
So, I do. He sits patiently and listens, his expression never changing. I tell him how Sherri died when she was dating him. How I decided to get revenge and how I got my class to go to a bar I knew he frequented. How we met at the bar, and how I went on two dates with him. How we were lovers.
“That makes it even easier,” McDonald says, apparently unconcerned. “You won’t even have to try.”
“Did you already know?”
He smiles, but doesn’t respond, and I wonder if I’m being set up in some way that I can’t quite fathom.
I want to turn his offer down, but would they really charge me with conspiring to rob the bank? Aiding and abetting? Perverting the course of justice?
“What do you think my father would say if he knew you were going to use me as a honeypot?”
“Oh, I’m sure he would never approve or be happy about it, but if you weren’t his daughter, he’d be the one to make this offer.” He smiles.
The prospect of being charged in connection with armed robbery is a much worse option that helping the FBI catch a criminal – especially considering he’s on my own personal hit list.
“I’ll cooperate,” I say with a sigh. “What choice do I have?”
“We’ll arrange things with your supervisor so that you get special credit for your work with the FBI. Don’t worry. You’ll still graduate when you would have normally.”
