Dirty Little Secrets(130)

The crowd of about a hundred people, mostly employees of Collins Robotics and their families, but also a few of Wes’s old Army buddies, and one old man that Wes had whispered to me he suspected was Oscar from his secret agent days, all looked to the altar as the minister stood up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you,” he said in a slight Midwestern twang. “I get to start this ceremony off in a way that is a first even for me, and I’ve been doing this for going on twenty-five years. The bride and groom have planned a unique entrance for all of you, so if you’d please stand up and direct your attention above us.”

The helicopter pilot did his job perfectly. Swinging around, he parked us right where we wanted, about twenty yards north of the wedding party and a thousand feet up. We had designed for the Mark X to be able to handle larger falls, but we didn’t want to put too big of a divot in the turf. The country club was being nice as it was.

“Ready, babe?” Wes asked over our private intercom circuit. “Just remember, take it like a drop from a basketball hoop. Let the suit do the work for you.”

It took more guts than I had anticipated to slide out the side of the Blackhawk. I had done the calculations over and over; freefall time was supposed to be just over eight seconds, and we’d hit the ground at just over a hundred and fifty miles an hour. Basically, I dropped out of a helicopter into a car crash, and was depending on my design to let me walk away alive.

Those eight seconds were both the shortest and the longest of my life, even more so than the plane crash. Part of my mind was in total freak-out mode, shutting down and making the whole fall seem like only a blink of an eye. Another part of me slowed time down to a crawl, so it felt like I was up there for what had to be a minute at least. I found out later that the feeling was normal, the result of your brain being in panic mode.

Thankfully, I was able to hang onto Wes’s instructions to me to keep calm and let the suit do the work. Hitting the ground, I let my knees bend and roll, the suit working perfectly. It wasn’t until I was on my feet that I realized that instead of The Wedding March, the band was playing Back in Black, and I started laughing. Mom and Gerald were both on their feet, and part of me felt bad for the expression on Mom’s face. Still, she recovered well and joined in the clapping, Wes and I striding toward the altar together. I had to give it to the minister—he recovered well from the shock, and spoke again into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Bride and Groom.”



Wes





After the ceremony was over and Robin and I were back in normal clothes, Dad found me and hugged me, right before giving me a sharp smack on the shoulder.

“If you ever try to scare the bejesus out of Rebekah and me like that again, you’re going to find out you’re not too big to get a whoopin’ from your old man,” he joked, smiling with tears in his eyes. “But it’s beautiful, son. And you’re the second luckiest man in the world today.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, looking toward the front of the reception hall, where the Mark X and X2 were on display, an appreciative crowd of people gathered around. “Although I will have to respectfully disagree with you on the ‘second luckiest man’ bit.”

“I’m sure,” Dad said, taking a drink from his flute of champagne. His eyes turned toward the Mark X, a whistle coming between his teeth. “A thousand foot drop, and it still looks like you just got done giving it a wax job. Do I want to know how much those things cost?”

“Nope, but trust me, they’re going to be great PR ambassadors for the company,” I said. “Let’s face it, the Mark X is bad-ass.”

“And of course you and Robin get to go play with them as often as you want,” Dad said with a grin. “Like your typical sports car owner. Yours just doesn’t have Lotus on the hood.”

Dad and I laughed before an older man, maybe ten years older than him came up, offering his hand. “Congratulations.”

I went with my instincts and shook his hand. “Dad, could you give us a minute? I’m sure Robin would love to talk your ear off about the design or something.”

Dad nodded and left us. I guided the gentleman outside, where the sun was just starting to go down, the golf course covered in amber gold light. “Those are two hellacious divots you caused,” the old man said, pointing toward the holes on the fairway. “Glad you hit only a few yards out. Won’t mess up anyone’s tee shot.”

“Oscar?” I asked, and the old man nodded. “It’s been a few years. You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”