Gun Metal Heart by Dana Haynes Page A

Each showed the alley or the architecture of the southern side of Florence, but from differing heights and differing angles.
    â€œWe didn’t send one Mercutio for this demonstration. We sent eight. And the data stream from all eight merges at a dedicated satellite and bounces right back. Which means the voice-recog and face-recog data that one micro-drone has, all eight micro-drones have.”
    â€œFolks?” Brevidge patted down his silk tie and pivoted on the heel of his shoe. “I said Mercutio is a bloodhound. That’s not quite accurate. It’s a pack of hunting dogs.”
    Mr. Smith said, “Will we get a demonstration of Hotspur?”
    Todd glanced at the American Citadel brass in the back of the room. “Well, not from Italy, no. While Mercutio is a surveillance suite, Hotspur is an aggressive weapons package. We can’t exactly go blasting away in Florence. However, we have a demonstration range in an abandoned mine, about two hours south of Sandpoint, which we’ll be switching to for a live demonstration in about thirty minutes.”
    Miss Jones said, “What sort of weapons package?”
    â€œDepends on the configuration,” Todd swiveled to her. “Guns or miniature guided missiles. Because of weight restrictions on the drones, we use only small-caliber weapons. But the bullets are incendiaries, and the missiles are our own design, which we’ll show you when we switch to the demonstration range a little later this morning. The beauty of the Hotspur weapons suite is that we can configure the MAVs for whatever opposition we expect to face.”
    Cyrus Acton glowed, watching his protégé, Todd Brevidge, completely in his element.
    Miss Jones nodded, eyes darting to the screen. “But you have a set of these Hotspur drones on scene? In Florence?”
    â€œFor demonstration purposes, yes. We wanted you to notice that the hummingbirds and the hawks are floating around over this very crowded city and nobody’s paying any attention to them. They’re just too small and too fast, and they were designed to be mistaken for actual birds.
    â€œWe’ll show you the visuals from Hotspur’s perspective, too. While Mercutio can hover like a helicopter, Hotspur swoops. I say that as a warning; with the high-def screens, it can be a little disorienting. For instance, you won’t get an image as stable as this.”
    He spoke into his walkie. “Give us a close-up of the lobby, dude.”
    One of the Mercutio MAVs zoomed in on the front window of the Hotel Criterion. Through the glass, they could see a cluster of people standing about.
    From the back of the room, Cyrus Acton said, “Todd…?”
    â€œAh. Yessir?”
    Acton pointed over Brevidge’s shoulder at the screen. “What’s going on there? In the hotel?”
    Todd turned. Through the plate-glass window of the hotel, he, the brass, and the buyers could see Dr. Incantada and her two assistant engineers. Standing opposite them were members of the hotel staff.
    It took Todd a moment to realize that the engineer’s driver lay on the floor. Unconscious or dead.
    And that two of the hotel staff carried submachine guns with folding stocks and dual handles.
    â€œWhoa,” Todd said. “Whoa whoa whoa what the hell?”
    Mr. Acton had surged forward, now standing between Todd and the buyers.
    Todd lifted his walkie. “Snow, are you getting this?”
    The voice came back quickly from the phone. “Sure am.”
    â€œWhat the … is this a robbery? Snow, get us audio.”
    A second later, and the people in the observation lounge began to hear electronically enhanced voices. Audio signatures popped up on one of the screens, logging the speakers as INCANTADA, DR. GABRIELLA and SPEAKER 3 .
    Speaker number three was the tall, pretty blond woman. She was speaking in Italian.
    From the control room, one of Snow’s pilots made an adjustment to the