A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(91)

Remembering Utopia’s videos, Levi said, “You think this is what God wants? For you to raze a city to the ground?”

Hatfield made a face. “Please. I don’t believe in God. That’s just the easiest way to rile up the cannon fodder.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve lived in Las Vegas all my life. I’ve watched the city be overrun by immigrants, seen freaks like you flaunt their perversion in public with more audacity each year. I’ve stood by while my city, like the rest of the country, fell under the control of the weak-minded, simpering bleeding hearts who want to destroy the American way of life. But Las Vegas was a great city once. With a fresh start, it can be again.”

Levi’s stomach churned, his chest heaving with the effort it took for him to remain still. He had to clench both fists until they ached to stop from launching himself at Hatfield and beating the bastard unconscious.

“You know, I keep waiting for one of these fuckers to say something that’s not completely batshit insane,” said Martine. “But nope.”

Hatfield tossed her a scowl before looking back at Levi. “Like I said, Detective, I have no problem telling you the location of every bomb. They’ll be detonating in . . .” He made a show of looking at the Rolex on his wrist. “About fifty minutes. Even if the city weren’t in chaos, even if you could trust the LVMPD and the FBI to help, you wouldn’t be able to reach and disarm them all in time.”

“The bombs are all going off at the same time?” Dominic said thoughtfully.

Beneath Dominic’s hands, Hatfield tensed. His furrowed brow made it clear that he knew he’d slipped up but didn’t quite understand how.

Leila swung one of her batons idly back and forth. “That requires a lot of coordination. And white supremacists aren’t the type to use suicide bombers.”

“They can’t just be on automatic timers, though,” Levi said. “What if something went wrong, and one or more needed to be deactivated? With such secure targets, it’d be risky to send someone back in.”

Martine picked up their train of thought. “So you’d want the capability to control and detonate the explosives remotely. But six different triggermen? That would mean trusting six people to not get caught, to not lose their nerve or have second thoughts.”

“I don’t think Hatfield would trust that many people with something so important.” Watching Hatfield’s face closely, Levi moved toward the chair. “The bombs are all controlled by one central device, aren’t they?”

Hatfield’s nostrils flared, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. But a moment later, he scoffed and said, “What does it matter? You still can’t stop it.”

“We can if you tell us where to find it.” Levi cracked his knuckles, flexing his hands in their MMA gloves. “Of course, we’re on a tight deadline, so we’ll need that information quickly.”

“How gullible do you think I am?” Hatfield shot back. “You have a few screws loose, no doubt about it, but you’re still a cop. You wouldn’t torture or kill an old man.” His gaze shifted to Martine. “Neither would your partner. Or a decorated veteran. Or a deputy district attorney. You can’t frighten me with empty threats. None of you have what it takes to do what needs to be done.”

Hatfield’s smugness infuriated Levi, prodded at that dark, angry place deep inside. This piece of shit thought he could murder innocent people, destroy a city, and get away with it? He believed there’d be no consequences for his evil?

Levi took a single step to the side. “Have you met my friend Natasha?”

Puzzlement flashed across Hatfield’s face. Natasha remained quiet, still holding her gory knife. Blood had dripped all over the carpet at her feet.

Now it was Levi’s turn to be smug. “Of course, you know her better as the Seven of Spades.”

Hatfield laughed. “This kindergarten teacher? You’ll have to do better than that.”

Natasha tilted her head to one side and smiled. She was standing with her legs slightly apart, her arms at her sides, the knife hanging loosely from her right hand. A single drop of blood welled at the tip, hung suspended for a moment, and splashed to the ground.

There was still a hint of a smirk on Hatfield’s face when he met Natasha’s eyes. But slowly, the smirk melted away, and the color drained from his skin as his breathing sped up. Levi would have wondered at the source of Hatfield’s dawning terror when Natasha was just standing there, smiling, if he hadn’t experienced it himself a few minutes ago.

Hatfield was seeing the parts of Natasha that were broken. She wasn’t crazy, Levi knew that, but her soul was fractured in a way it was never meant to be. That was a ghastly thing to behold in the eyes of a human being.

“Oh my God,” Hatfield breathed.

Natasha took a single step in his direction, and Hatfield tried to launch himself out of the chair. Dominic slammed him back down before he’d risen more than a couple of inches. Rebel’s growl reverberated from the doorway.

Panting, Hatfield shrank into his chair while Natasha sauntered toward him, leaving a trail of blood droplets in her wake.

“You know, I’ve only tortured three people,” she said conversationally. “It was necessary, but I didn’t enjoy it. Now, killing people-that, I enjoy. And I’ve learned that the worse the person is, the more satisfying it is to kill them.”