A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(80)

“Carmen will key us all into the same encrypted channel. We won’t have to worry about the LVMPD or FBI picking up on it.”

Natasha passed them to Levi and Martine as well, then hesitated as Leila raised her eyebrows.

“Leila, you’ve done more than enough,” Levi said. “You don’t have to come with us.”

“Like fuck.” Leila held out her hand.

As the four of them ripped into their packages and extracted their earbuds, Natasha moved on to the next storage bin, which was crammed with garlands of red and green tinsel.

“Dominic, Martine, and Rebel already have body armor,” she said, “but the rest of us need some protection. It’s a good thing we’re not drastically different sizes.”

Beneath the garlands were layers of bulletproof vests, along with a heap of black gloves, jackets, and ski masks. After grabbing vests for herself, Leila, and Levi, Natasha dug up a black hoodie and offered it to Levi.

“You should hide your face as much as you can. If word gets out that you’re still in the city, it’ll cause big problems.”

Levi nodded, accepted both garments, and strapped himself into the vest before zipping the hoodie over it. Both were a little short on him, but circumference-wise, they fit fine.

“Now, for the squeamish among us . . .” Natasha moved on to the remaining containers. “I have some less-lethal weapon options that may be more palatable.”

She opened the rest and removed their top halves. Dominic’s jaw fell open further with each one.

They were chock-full of weaponry: A truly staggering array of knives; multiple guns and piles of ammo; Tasers, stun guns, and what looked like a goddamn cattle prod; even flash-bang grenades and tear gas. It was a collection that would have put the most paranoid doomsday prepper to shame. Packing all of those instruments of death and mayhem with cheerful Christmas decorations made for a macabre contrast.

Martine’s eyebrows had almost reached her hairline, and her gun hung by her side. “Where did you get all of this?”

“I’ve been collecting these for five years.” Natasha knelt and rummaged through one of the bins. “I like to be prepared for every contingency. You have to admit, it’s worked out well for me so far.”

“Do you really think reminding us of all the psycho stunts you’ve pulled is a good idea right now?” Leila asked.

Glancing up, Natasha said, “I thought you didn’t care about the people I’ve killed.”

Leila shrugged. “I don’t. If that was all you’d done, we wouldn’t have a problem. It’s what you’ve done to Levi and Dominic that makes me want to punch you in the throat.”

Dominic snickered, and even Levi’s lips twitched.

Ignoring that comment, Natasha found a pair of MMA gloves in the bin and gave them to Levi. “Do you want-”

“No.”

“Take a stun gun, at least, since you gave me the one you were using earlier.”

Levi conceded, and Natasha turned back to Leila.

“I’m good.” Leila unzipped her leather bomber jacket and patted a black rod stashed in an inner pocket. Dominic knew from Levi that it was two expandable batons screwed together.

Natasha threw her a can of mace. “For backup. How about you, Dominic? Need anything?”

He had three guns on him-two in his shoulder rig and one on his ankle-but there was no such thing as over-prepared. “I could use some extra ammo, if you’ve got any for a Glock.”

“Help yourself.” She pointed him to the relevant bin, then moved to the last one in the row and withdrew a double-barreled shotgun. This she handed to Martine, along with a sidesaddle and belt pouch both full of shells.

Martine held the shotgun like it was dripping with sewage. “Uh . . .”

“Those are bean bag rounds,” Natasha said in her usual patient tone-so bizarre to hear now that Dominic knew the truth. “You’ve trained with them, right?”

“A few times.” Now seeming intrigued, Martine cracked the gun open to load it.

While they continued gearing up, Dominic took a couple of the flash-bangs, as did Levi and Martine. The tear gas, unfortunately, was out of the question. Even if Natasha had enough gas masks for the five of them, there would be no way to protect Rebel from the fumes.

A few minutes later, they were all set, but Dominic was still troubled. “This is a good start, but chances are, we’re gonna be way outnumbered. We need a more decisive form of crowd control.”

Natasha frowned, fiddling with the buttons on her jacket pockets, then perked up. She waved him over to a wooden trunk in the corner, the kind of toy chest with a flip-top lid that had existed pre-safety standards.

“Do you remember the distraction I created the night of the assault on Volkov’s compound?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Well, when I was buying those supplies, I went way overboard. There’s a bunch of stuff I ended up not using.” She opened the lid, pulled out a pile of blankets, and stepped aside so he could see into the trunk.

“Holy shit.” Despite the dire situation, a grin broke across Dominic’s face. “Yeah, this’ll work. This’ll work just fine.”





Hatfield’s building, the Whitby, was a straight shot about six miles southwest from the storage complex. Levi sat in the back seat of Natasha’s car with Rebel, who was less frightened now but refused to take her eyes off Natasha for a single moment. Martine had gone with Leila on the bike, so Dominic sat up front to watch Natasha as she drove.