Gun Metal Heart by Dana Haynes

options.
    *   *   *
    They had agreed that Diego would stay outside and keep an eye on everyone. Skorpjo likely knew what Diego looked like. Daria could make the approach to the hotel more quietly on her own.
    Diego scored a pair of binoculars from a tourist shop. He stepped into a restaurant and walked back to the men’s room, then picked a lock to get upstairs and onto the roof. From there he could watch the Hotel Criterion and Daria’s back.
    He was watching her back now, all right. It lay unmoving on the lobby carpet, at the feet of Dr. Incantada. Diego couldn’t tell from his angle if Daria was breathing.
    He adjusted his cowboy hat, lipped a silent prayer to St. Jude, and reached under his denim shirt for his Colt .45.

 
    Twelve
    Sandpoint, Idaho
    The Pentagon contingent stared at the computer-generated image of Gabriella Incantada. They realized that the timing of the American Citadel demonstration had been no coincidence. There was a reason they’d both been spirited into Canada, east across the continent, and then back into the United States, despite the very strict rules of the U.S. State Department regarding business dealings with American Citadel Electronics, LLC.
    Todd Brevidge was enjoying the theatricality of the show. “Mercutio’s optics have already been demonstrated. Now that we have Dr. Incantada’s face on file, Mercutio could follow her anywhere.”
    Brevidge waited a second for the guests to absorb this.
    â€œIts audio capability also has been demonstrated. Combine the face-recognition software with the voice-recognition software, and Mercutio becomes the ultimate bloodhound. We could follow Dr. Incantada into that huge crowd outside the cathedral, right now, this very second, and she’d have no possible hope of eluding us.”
    Mr. Smith and Miss Jones eyed each other.
    Mr. Smith caught Brevidge’s attention. When he spoke his voice was a guttural Southern drawl, a raspy blend of cigarettes and a career screaming at soldiers. “Dr. Incantada promises the same thing. And her price is a hell of a lot more reasonable.”
    Brevidge forced a laugh. “Well, sure. Cut-rate prices for cut-rate material. You get what you pay for. Our product is expensive. But what it delivers—our nation’s safety, our enemies’ heads on spits while our pilots sit in comfort, far from the enemy—is worth the price.”
    Miss Jones raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Incantada made much the same argument. But again, at two-thirds the price.”
    Brevidge was about to counter, but the man they were calling Mr. Smith cut in. “You’re controlling the drone’s movements from here?”
    â€œYes and no. Our chief engineer and his pilots, in the booth behind you, have given the Mercutio you see on this screen a task. He told it to study the automobiles and the people in that alley in Florence. We also have a truck-and-trailer parked just outside of Florence for the transportation and maintenance of the drones. The truck has two more pilots, who can control the drones as well. Either way: if this was Fallujah or downtown Tehran, you’d have birds in the air but pilots who are safe and sound.”
    The Pentagon brass seemed to approve.
    Todd waved toward the screens. “For this mission, my chief engineer can override that task and zoom Mercutio number one into a specific target, like the white van, or a specific person, like the old broad with the cane.”
    Miss Jones stepped in. “‘Mercutio number one’?”
    â€œAh!” Brevidge held up one finger, so pleased that someone had pounced on the line he’d laid out for them. “Did I forget to mention: this Mercutio doesn’t fly alone.”
    He lifted the walkie phone. “Snow?”
    And the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling plasma screen split instantaneously, morphing from one huge Florentine image into eight images, four across, two deep.