Chapter Thirteen
Hagan and Liam perched on a low cinder block wall on top of tower one.
The wall subdivided sections of the roof.
With their smartphones in hand, they read streams of data across from Parker as he typed into his laptop.
A skyscraper’s roof wasn’t Hagan’s idea of a good time.
He could’ve sworn the building swayed. Slight shifts in the wind would shock the hell out of him.
He’d much rather have taken a high-altitude job from a Chinook than sit on the top of this building.
At least Hagan had a decent reason to sit up here without a parachute. Titan had updated the adaptive abilities of their heavy-lifting drone, and if Aces wanted to reap the benefits, they’d have to work out any bugs.
Work almost felt like playing video games as they tested the drone’s newly updated adaptive abilities.
Part artificial intelligence, part NASA-level algorithms, it could adjust to payload fluctuations, make decisions on takeoff, and run diagnostics while in flight.
Meaning, once they calibrated the drone, their team had a very smart flying machine, capable of swooping into a battle zone for a rescue mission and initiating a health assessment.
But they weren’t there yet and were currently stuck at the make-it-hurt-until-it’s-better stage.
Their million-dollar drone had regressed to a Wright brothers’ level of technology, leaving collateral damage of bumped and broken security cameras, antennas, and lights in its wake—not to mention their poor test subjects.
Working out the bugs had helped Hagan ignore wind gusts and pigeons who didn’t appreciate humans in their territory. Plus, they’d had their fair share of laughs.
“Careful with Doris,” Liam warned.
Doris, their target on top of the other tower, was a tall, viney houseplant with a concrete pot that had to be heavier than him.
She was their fourth rescue attempt. It wasn’t as easy as they’d thought to liberate a living, breathing plant.
If they weren’t careful, they’d have to ask Angela to arrange for another assortment of weighted, potted plants to be delivered onto the roof again.
The drone was rated to carry two hundred kilograms, nearly four-hundred-fifty pounds, and she’d given them the stink-eye when Parker had requested the heaviest pots she could find.
Angela did a damn good job with the variety of concrete, stone, and terracotta pots, coming closer than they’d expected to in maxing out the drone’s carrying capabilities.
But the payload wasn’t their biggest concern. They couldn’t keep from dropping the plants during takeoff—rest in peace Alma, Beatrice, and Clementine.
The drone lifted Doris higher than any of her predecessors, but Hagan saw the same data points as Liam.
He glanced at Parker. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Hagan didn’t want to give the guy a coronary, but Parker had asked them to monitor the data.
Hagan grimaced when the corresponding line graph jumped again. “Careful.”
“Please shut the hell up,” Parker typed, as if the force of his keystrokes might help the drone lift Doris.
Lifting wasn’t their problem this time. Hagan eyed Liam. Liam shook his head and almost laughed.
“Son of a monkey’s—” Parker jerked his gaze from the screen. “Doris has one of those signs.”
For a nanosecond, Hagan didn’t know what Parker meant.
Then he understood. The timing might send Parker into an early grave.
Someone within the company had covertly hung notes and signs throughout the towers.
No one admitted to orchestrating the funniest, most passive snark Hagan had ever seen, and even with Titan Group’s surveillance capabilities, the culprit hadn’t been smoked out yet.
Liam and Hagan tried not to laugh.
Parker returned to heavy-handed typing. “This is not the time, dickheads.”
“We didn’t do it,” Liam volunteered.
Hagan kept an eye on Doris’s statistics as the drone almost reached their altitude goal. “Angela arranged the plants.”
“Everyone knows about the plants,” Parker bit out.
“Yeah,” Hagan agreed. “It’s not her. Too obvious—Easy.” The drone’s AI adjustment added too many pounds of pressure. “You’re red-lining.”
“I see that,” Parker muttered, ratcheting down the pressure units. The drone’s claw-like manacle reported an immediate positive effect. The AI system learned from Parker’s input and adjusted its hold on the rucksack-sized pot. “There it goes.”
Parker let out a breath, and they watched the drone and Doris level out and start the diagnostic sequencing.
“It’s going to work this time.” Parker set his laptop to the side and let the drone continue with its real-time adjustments.
Hagan and Liam’s phones beeped, and Hagan reported the plant’s temperature. “Doris is nice and cool despite the heat. Seventy-seven point nine degrees Fahrenheit.”
“And no heartbeat to speak of,” Liam added.
Parker pumped a fist in front of his chest. “And that’s how it’s done.”
The drone recalibrated as the concrete pot swayed, but it continued, reaching the air space between the two towers. Hagan squinted to see the note on the plant but couldn’t.
Their phones beeped with pressure warnings.
Parker moved back to his laptop. Too late, the concrete pot shattered.
Chunks rained between the hotel towers. Doris dangled and swayed.
The drone rebalanced as the payload changed.
Dirt sprinkled from her roots as the drone smoothly sailed toward the landing zone.
Parker cursed. Hagan choked on his laughter. Liam didn’t bother to hide how funny he found it and slapped his leg.
“Doris isn’t dead,” Hagan pointed out as the remaining chunk of the pot dropped to the safety net that spanned between the buildings. The area below had been closed off with temporary barriers adorned with warning signs and hard hat notices that they’d borrowed from the construction crew.
Liam wiped at his face. “She could be.” The roots dangled in the wind. “Crushed to death.”
The graphic and data indicated a drastic shift in the plant’s temperature but that the grip had corrected its pressure problems. Warnings flashed, then the AI recognized that Doris had sustained damage during transport.
Hagan chortled. “At least it’s learning.”
“At least we started with plants,” Liam added. “Betcha Camden volunteers to go first when we graduate to people.”
Hagan agreed. “He’d dare the thing to crush his ribs.”
Parker growled. “It just needs a little finesse.”
The drone reached the landing zone, sent a final diagnostic report on its cargo, and delicately released Doris into a crumbled pile of leafy vines, roots, and dirt. It purred quietly as it retracted its claws, hovered, and searched for a safe spot to put itself down, then landed.
The wind blew Doris, and the note fluttered and caught Hagan’s attention again. “Parker gets to do the honors.”
Parker muttered under his breath and closed his laptop. He crossed the roof and snagged the paper from Doris, unfolding it as his forehead creased.
“What’s it say?” Liam called.
The corner of Parker’s mouth tightened. He held up what looked like a photograph and returned to their station.
Hagan’s gaze narrowed. It wasn’t a picture. It was a meme. White, block-lettered text framed a picture. As the meme came closer, Hagan clearly saw the photograph was of Parker—with his eyes closed, possibly about to sneeze.
Hagan read the top line out loud. “Do you want a safety briefing?”
“Oh, shit,” Liam said, then read the bottom line. “Because that’s how you get us a safety briefing.”
Two superimposed arms had been photoshopped onto Parker, along with two thumbs up. Hagan couldn’t keep a straight face.
Parker crumpled the meme. “Those aren’t my arms.”
“Ya think?” Hagan slapped Parker on the back. “What about those hands?”
Liam doubled over. “It’s like they knew this would be a disaster.”
Parker scowled. “It wasn’t a disaster.”
“Doris didn’t die,” Hagan pointed out. “One out of four? Not bad.”
“It’s a potted plant,” Parker snapped. “They break, asshole.”
“Just like ribs,” Liam deadpanned.
“And femurs,” Hagan added.
Parker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go away.”
Their hysterics grew.
Parker dropped his head back, as though he were praying to the Drone Gods that Hagan and Liam would disappear. “Go.”
As funny as Alma, Beatrice, Clementine, and Doris had been, it probably meant that Parker had a shit ton more work to do. Hagan glanced at Liam, who seemed to be on the same wavelength. “We’ll help you clean up this mess. Go get a beer.”
“Hagan will clean up. I’ll help.” Liam checked his watch. “I have to meet Boss Man in less than twenty minutes.”
“Sure you do,” Hagan laughed.
“You, go.” Parker waved Liam away, then nodded to Hagan. “Let’s go. Then we’ll clean up and grab some beers.”
For such a high-tech, nimble-in-the-air piece of machinery, Hagan had always thought this drone was a pain to secure. Thirty minutes later, and after more cursing than conversation, Hagan dusted off his hands as Parker closed the compartment that housed several drones.
“Now, about that beer.” Parker led the way to his laptop and packed his remaining gear.
Hagan propped Doris in several spots. She fell over every time.
“You ready?” Parker called.
“Absolutely.” He gave Doris a pitying glance, then followed Parker into the tower.
He didn’t want to think about the mystery woman anytime he used the stairwells, but damn if she didn’t pop to mind.
Hagan wanted to hurry Parker. One more flight and they could access the elevators. He might never take the stairs again.
Parker reached for the access door as it swung open. “Shit.”
There she was. The dark-haired beauty who hung out in stairwells and megamart aisles. Her eyes went wide when they met Hagan’s, and a line of fire traveled down his sternum like she’d set off a tripwire in his chest.
Parker pulled her from the door and kept himself as a separating barrier, lifting his arms to block Hagan. “Give me a second.”