A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(90)
He retreated several steps without a conscious thought, his lizard brain reacting instinctively to the alien, eldritch predator lurking behind her eyes. He couldn’t even describe what had changed. He was just overcome by the sense that he was looking at something wrong.
Then Natasha blinked, and the sensation dissipated.
An insistent pounding made Levi jump and tore his attention away from Natasha. Dominic was thumping the door to the master suite, which someone had apparently shut and locked from the other side during the melee. Behind him, Martine and Leila were binding the downed guards.
“Hatfield!” Dominic banged his fist against the door. “We know you’re in there. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Leila snapped her last ziptie into place and jogged over to Levi, taking in the sight of the man beneath the fallen television with raised eyebrows. “Everything o-”
She saw the dead man and went silent, her throat bobbing once. Her eyes flicked toward Levi’s.
He gave his head a slight shake: Leave it. “Help me check on this guy?” he asked, gesturing to the man he’d dropped the TV on.
The man was breathing normally, his pulse steady, but he was cut up and unconscious, with a nasty head wound. Levi didn’t bother binding him; that would just be adding insult to injury at this point.
Dominic rattled the door again, then took a step back. “Fuck this.” He shot off the lock and barged inside.
Though the master bedroom was empty, Levi found Hatfield in seconds, cowering in the lavish ensuite bathroom. The man was shaking so badly he could hardly hold his gun, let alone fire it.
Levi felt weird about punching a guy in his seventies-but then, Hatfield had started a Nazi militia, so he got over it quick. He disarmed Hatfield without effort, dragged the man out to the bedroom, and shoved him into the chair Martine had pulled away from a desk.
Hatfield was in good shape, not a hint of frailty about him despite his fear. He had a full head of thick salt-and-pepper hair, and his canny eyes were blazing with hatred as he glowered at each of them in turn.
“Bad news,” Leila said, dropping the duffel bag on the plush carpet. “We’re out of zip ties.”
“That’s all right.” Dominic stood behind the chair, clamped his hands on Hatfield’s shoulders, and bent down to speak in Hatfield’s ear. “He’s not going anywhere. Are you, Mr. Hatfield?”
Dominic nodded to the door between the bedroom and living room. Rebel sat on the threshold, ears perked up, her happy expression at startling odds with the blood matting the fur of her muzzle and throat.
Hatfield stiffened, wetting his dry lips with a nervous flick of his tongue. His apprehensive gaze lingered on Rebel for a moment longer before he focused on Levi.
“I knew you would come.” Hatfield’s vicious sneer saturated every word with contempt. “My men at the warehouse warned me you’d escaped. You shouldn’t have left them alive.”
“You should have taught your men not to discuss their plans in front of a prisoner.” Levi stood in front of Hatfield, forcing Hatfield to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. “They were running their mouths the whole time they had me. We know Utopia started these riots. We know it’s a diversion, a way to spread resources thin before a bomb goes off.”
Levi leaned over and braced his hands on the arms of Hatfield’s chair.
“You’re going to tell us where the bomb is.”
Hatfield grinned, a sick expression of such pure malice that Levi faltered. “Certainly, Detective. Which one?”
Levi backed away, staring at Hatfield. “What do you mean, which one?”
Hatfield tried to shrug, though he was restricted by Dominic’s grip on his shoulders. “Just that. I’m happy to tell you whatever you’d like, but you’ll need to be more specific. Do you mean the bomb in City Hall? The one at LVMPD headquarters? Or maybe the one in the Stratosphere Tower?”
The room was silent as Hatfield continued smirking. Levi exchanged glances with Dominic over Hatfield’s head; Dominic’s face was ashen, his mouth slack.
“How-” Levi cleared his throat. “How many bombs are there?”
“Six.”
Levi’s eyes fell shut. Beside him, Martine made a soft noise of distress.
“He’s bluffing,” said Leila, prompting Levi to open his eyes. “He has to be. How could Utopia get that many bombs into such well-secured areas, with the city on high alert?”
“What do you think we are? Furtive thugs sneaking around under cover of night?” Hatfield snorted. “Every one of those bombs was walked in by someone who had every reason to be there. You have no idea how far our reach extends. How many people are sympathetic to our cause.”
Levi couldn’t speak. He thought Natasha would say something, at least, but she hadn’t spoken since she’d killed that guard. And she was standing directly behind Levi, so he couldn’t see her expression.
The lack of interruption gave Hatfield more confidence. “You believe that Utopia is just gangbangers in the city and gun-toting rednecks in the desert, but we’re so much more. Even before Milo Radich helped us make a name for ourselves, I’d cultivated allies everywhere: government, law enforcement, public works. All of them patriots who understand the natural order of things and want to see that order restored.”