Page 47 of Titan

“The Assistant Director of what?”

“The FBI’s Organized Crime Unit, New York Field Office. Lucky you, but I guess, seeing who your father was, it makes sense.”

I sigh, wishing I hadn’t been so honorable. I shouldn’t have intervened. Now, the FBI will think I was somehow involved. I don’t relish being interrogated by the FBI about my actions in the bank.

We arrive at the building, a non-descript grey cement hulk with rows of windows looking out over a back-alley parking lot. I’m signed in and given a temporary ID. Then, Morse takes me up to the top floor and leads me through a maze of corridors to a corner office.

Behind a desk sits a man with a bald head and dark-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He narrows his eyes when he sees me.

“Ahh, our little heroine from the bank robbery and daughter of one of our own. Come in and have a seat. I’m Assistant Director McDonald.”

He points to a chair across from his desk, so I take it and face him, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

“Tell me everything,” McDonald says. “What happened? Why did you help them? One of our witnesses said you spoke with the man in the mask and Mets ball cap before the shooting.”

I take in a deep breath and then recount the events of the morning; from the time I entered the bank until the police arrived. McDonald listens without comment – even when I get to the part where I helped the injured robber.

They seem particularly interested in the guy with the Mets cap.

“So, I take it you know this man?” I ask, surprised that he says nothing about what I did.

“We do. His family is deep into organized crime. His name is Harrison O'Connor. His family’s connected to the Russian Mob."

The name sends a shock through my body. “Harrison O'Connor?”

“Yes. From a notorious Irish Mafia family. Son of Ronan O'Connor. He’s former military, and highly skilled. Former Army Ranger who’s apparently gone rogue and our intelligence tells us he is now in the process of helping his brother take over the family business."

Oh, God…

It’s my Harrison. Harrison O’Connor who was only recently making me orgasm twice in one afternoon. The man I want to destroy…

I realize I can’t admit that I know Harrison and that I was out to bring him down. That he rescued me in a bar, and we went for coffee and shared a kiss and then muchmuchmore…

That would make them suspect that I was involved.

"How did someone with Mafia family ties become an Army Ranger? The Rangers are some of the best highest trained soldiers anywhere.”

“He was raised by his mother and stepfather after she divorced his father, so he had no part of the family business, so to speak. We think he’s returned to the fold and is now partnering with the Russian Mafia. Same group that killed your father and mother.”

Another shock goes through me. “What do you mean who killed my mother and father. They died in an accident on the highway…”

“I’m afraid that’s classified info but suffice to say that there’s a link between the death of your parents and the gang of Russian thugs that Mr. O’Connor’s family associates with.”

Did Harrison know that when he asked me about my father and mother’s deaths?

“Apparently, Harrison is now back with his family, and may helping his brother take over from Ronan, who had a stroke that left him in a wheelchair. His brother isn’t quite as competent as Harrison, so we think he’s helping.”

McDonald seems surprisingly open about the whole business. Raising his eyebrows is the only change in his expression since the interview began.

“You say it’s the same Russian Mafia group that killed my father and mother?”

“Yes.” McDonald nods. “Same group. Your father was working an informer in the Russian mob when he was betrayed. Whatever the case, we figure Harrison has a grudge against the Russians and he’s out for revenge. Hence, hitting the Russian bank.” McDonald stretches and cricks his neck.

“I didn’t know it was a Russian bank. How can that be?”

“It’s not Russian. They’re Americans, but they launder Russian money.”

I sigh heavily, confused about what to do or think. “What do you want from me?"

---