James Axler – Circle Thrice

“Don’t worry,” Mildred said. “I didn’t take anything from this place. Nothing I’d want to take.” She turned to the others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Can we go now?”

The countess had been tapping the toe of her foot restlessly on the stone flags of the garden path, arms folded, constantly checking the time on a platinum Rolex wristwatch. “I’m ready,” she said.

Doc had been leaning on his swordstick, looking across the boulevard at the blighted, ugly stores. “I confess that this is a miserable place,” he said. “And I” He stopped suddenly, an expression of surprise crossing his face, his right hand touching himself low on the side of his stomach.

“What is it, Doc?” Jak asked. “All right?”

“Not very all right, as it happens, dear lad. A rather nasty stabbing pain in my belly. Quite ferocious, as if I’d swallowed a fox.”

Mildred had been staring back at the house with an odd intensity, but Doc’s voice brought her around. “You’ve gone real pale,” she said.

“I am not at my best.” He bit his lip, swaying to one side, steadied by Jak. “Perhaps if we might return to the house and I could lie down. Indigestion would be my most likely diagnosis. I think.”

Mildred didn’t say anything for a moment, studying him carefully. “Too low for indigestion,” she said. “Stabbing, did you say?”

“Like a knife of fire, my dear Doctor. Indeed, I would be grateful if I could lie down in the back of the wag, or I fear that I might pass out. My hearing has gone rather fuzzy, and the world seems to be moving away from me.”

“Get him in the wag,” Mildred said to the guards. “Quickly.”

She turned to the countess, who had showed very little interest in the small drama. “Can we move now?”

“Of course. Ryan. You’ll drive with me again.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I go with Doc. Sorry, Countess.”

She nodded, her face like a mask hewn from living marble, showing no trace of emotion. “Very well. I understand, Ryan. Believe me, I do. Straub, I wish to talk to you. Come with me.”

“Of course, Countess, delighted, delighted.” He bowed and scraped in a parody of servility. “I am honored, honored.”

She stalked off and one of the armed sec men opened the doors of the Mercedes. She got in, barely waiting for Straub before gunning the engine and roaring away in a cloud of smoking rubber.

“Thank you and goodbye, dear lady,” Krysty said, touching Ryan on the arm.

Doc was moaning, sagging at the knees, supported by Jak on one side and by a guard on the other. Mildred was ushering them toward the rear of the nearest wag, telling them to lay him down, watching him safely installed. Then she walked back to Ryan and the others.

“I’ll go with him,” she said.

“Any idea what it is? Not having a heart attack, is he?” Ryan asked.

She shook her head. “Think not. I have an idea, but I’ll need to examine him properly as soon as we’re back at the ville. Then I’ll know. Might be less than good news.”

Mildred kept looking rather distractedly back at Graceland, as though she expected something to have happened. But she finally moved to the wag and climbed in.

“See you there,” J.B. called.

“Sure, John.” She made a decision. “John?”

“Yeah. What is it, Millie?”

“What’s the maximum delay on an incendiary grenade?”

The Armorer’s jaw sagged. “Dark night! What made you ask that? Maximum’s twenty minutes on the ones that they had in the big house. But why do ? What have you?”

The wag pulled away in an eruption of stinking exhaust smoke, taking Mildred, Doc and Jak with it.

Ryan guessed. “Twenty minutes. I reckon we better get out. My guess is we got about five minutes.”

Krysty wasn’t with it. “I don’t get it. Has Mildred set off a burner in Graceland?”

J.B. nodded, unable to conceal a smile of pride. “Isn’t she something? Said how much she hated what had happened to Elvis’s home. Shameful. Wasn’t worthy. Well, I guess she’s gone and done something about it.”