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They approached a narrow alley nestled between a line of low-level apartments and a cluster of stores—a coffee shop, a jewelry shop, a trendy clothing store, and a gym. The gym was closest to them, directly facing Bellevue Avenue, and Marc and Ryan could hear the thump-thump of music emanating from inside.
“The signal seems strongest here,” Ryan said. “It’s coming either from the apartments or the stores. An alley is good. It gives us some privacy. We won’t have a crowd of people staring at Bee.” Ryan glanced up at the sky. “It’s also overcast. That’ll work in our favor. Even so, we’ll only have a few chances for Bee to do his thing before we become a spectacle.”
“That sucks. Then we’ll have to come back another time.”
“Exactly. And we don’t want that. C’mon.”
Ryan led Marc back to the van. Opening the door, he picked up Bee from the front-seat console, detached the charging cable, and then grabbed the control he’d built to maneuver Bee in his flight.
“All set. Back we go,” he told Marc.
They returned to the alley, where Ryan placed Bee on the ground.
“It’s time for you to see Bee in action,” he announced to Marc.
He activated the drone with a touch of the controls and watched proudly as his homemade gizmo whirred to life. With it hovering five feet off the ground, Ryan checked the video feed on his iPhone. All good. Then he deftly moved the controls, sending Bee skyward, aiming the camera toward the row of apartment windows that faced the alley and then in and out between the stores.
“Very cool,” Marc noted.
“Watch.” Ryan pressed another button, and colored neon lights began flashing on Bee. Red. Blue. Green. “Now that’s cool. You should see the display at night.”
“Right now it’s going to alert half of Upper Montclair to Bee’s presence,” Marc said, grabbing Ryan’s arm. “We’re keeping a low profile, remember? Now turn those damned lights off.”
Ryan scowled but did as Marc demanded, knowing he was right. “Another minute wouldn’t have made a difference. But fine.” He manipulated the controls again. “Time for Bee to make a return trip, just to make sure he captured everything we need on video.”
As Bee doubled back, sending video that covered as much territory as possible, Marc frowned. “How are we going to make out anything specific? There are dozens of people in these buildings.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. I’ll blow up all the images when we’re back in the van with my laptop, and we can study the video scenes. Right now, I have to pay attention to maneuvering Bee, or else he’ll crash into one of the buildings.”
“Hey, cool toy.” A little kid of about seven was standing at the alleyway opening, licking an ice cream cone and staring up at Bee. “Can he do tricks? Can he fly upside down? Does he have a pilot? Can you talk to him? Does he answer?”
“Handle this,” Ryan muttered to Marc, scrutinizing Bee as he maneuvered the drone toward them.
“We want him to do all kinds of cool tricks, but he’s still not working right,” Marc told the little boy. “We’re taking him home to fix him up.”
The little boy’s face fell, just as his mother rushed over and took his hand. “I’m sorry if he’s bothering you,” she apologized to Marc. “But he ran off as soon as he saw your little helicopter.” She gave her son’s hand a tug. “C’mon, Robbie. It’s time to go home.”
“Can I buy one of those in the toy store?” the boy asked, pointing down the street, ice cream dripping down the cone and onto his jacket sleeve.
“Hopefully, someday, once we get him working right,” Marc said. He gave the child’s mother a friendly smile. “No problem. I have a niece who’s younger and more inquisitive than your son. It’s a sign of intelligence.”
“It’s also the reason I need midafternoon naps.” Laughing, Robbie’s mother took some napkins out of her purse and wiped up her son’s face and jacket sleeve. She then wrapped another napkin around the now-soggy ice cream cone and put the cone back into her son’s hand.
“Go hang out with your mom, Robbie,” Marc told him. “I’ll bet if you check the toy store in a few months, you’ll see a cool surprise there.” He gave the boy a wink.
Brightening up, the little boy nodded. “Okay!”
With that, he trotted off with his mother.
“I’m glad you can handle kids,” Ryan said. “I suck at it. Bee’s my idea of a play pal.”
“Well, I’m going to have a lot more than one curious kid to give explanations to if you don’t get that thing back here and out of sight.”
“Consider it done.” With a few more maneuvers and a slight increase in speed, Ryan brought Bee home to rest. The little drone landed at his feet, that shit-eating grin on its yellow face. The rotors went still as Ryan turned off the controls.
He snatched Bee up and followed Marc, who was already headed back to the van.
Sitting in back of the van, Ryan popped out the micro SD card from Bee’s abdomen and inserted it into the slot on his laptop so that he and Marc could review the video footage that Bee had captured on his flight. Most of the apartments he’d scanned were vacant or showed people sleeping in their beds.
