[February 11th] [Perry Mason] Candles and the Snow, 11

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Candles and the Snow, scene 11
Day/Theme: February 11th - In the ice of its own indifference
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, Hamilton Burger, Larry Germaine, Paul Drake, Lieutenant Tragg, unnamed creep (OC)
Rating: T/PG-13

Time Period: Present day

Referenced: My story The Case of the Broken Ties.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Rough hands shoved Mignon to the floor, their owner’s deliberate cruelty instantly felt in the viciousness of the act. She threw out her hands to brace herself, clenching her teeth as they scraped on the hard surface. She looked up, her eyes cold but quietly indignant.

“What do you intend to do with me?” she demanded. Upon leaving the house for the club she had been accosted by this man, who had forced her into the car at gunpoint and driven her to a location she did not know. Pushing her down had been his way of introducing her to her new surroundings. She was not impressed.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at her. “To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was told to take you. I took you. I was told to use my own discretion about harming you. I intend to. And I was told to call the district attorney and let him hear me killing you, when he is absolutely helpless to stop it. I’ll do that too.”

Mignon gripped the floor in horror, a frantic prayer racing through her mind. “Then this is a plot to torment Mr. Burger,” she exclaimed. And she knew in her heart that her captor meant every word of what he said. The utter, frozen indifference in his voice said that loud and clear.

“If he cares what happens to you,” was the shrugged answer, “then yes, it should torment him.”

Mignon’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Hamilton Burger would be agonized for you to call and force him to listen to anyone being killed,” she said. “Any person in the world would be a suitable target.”

“I guess. But since you’re his friend, you should be an even better target.” He bent down, grabbing Mignon’s jaw even as she bristled. “And maybe you’re even more than that?”

Mignon simply glowered. There was no reason for her to respond to that.

He released her, standing as he did so. “I shouldn’t kill you fast,” he said. “It should be drawn-out, giving him all the more time to anguish over you. And I have this feeling you’ll try hard not to cry out in pain, so that’s something else to take into consideration. You’ll have to make noise or he won’t know that I really have you.”

Mignon’s lips pressed into a straight line. Her captor just shrugged.

“You’re already vowing to yourself that you’re going to be quiet for as long as you can,” he observed. “I’ve seen that look before. I know your type. But that’s alright. I can always break them down eventually. Just as I’ll break you.”

“You won’t have the chance,” Mignon said smugly. “Don’t you realize you were followed?”

He laughed. “That bluff won’t work on me.”

“The police know where we are,” Mignon said. “They’re surrounding the building now.” She started to get up but he kicked her in the ribs, sending her back to the floor.

“There’s no one around,” he said, pressing his foot hard against her ribcage. His expression showed neither sadistic delight nor anger and hatred. He honestly did not care what he did, to her or anyone else. “Now, I’m going to call Mr. Burger.”

Mignon clawed at the heavy leg and foot. “He won’t be in his office,” she gasped.

“Which is why I’m going to call his cellphone.” He took out a cellphone of his own and dialed. Mignon’s heart gathered speed as it rang. Once, twice. . . .

“Hello?” It was Hamilton’s voice, tense and worried. “Who is this?”

“Names don’t matter, Mr. Burger,” was the reply. “I just called to let you know I’m going to kill Mignon Germaine. Over the phone, of course, so you can hear every bit of it.”

“What?!” Mignon shut her eyes, pained by his agonized and disbelieving exclamation. “How do I know you even have Mignon with you?”

Instantly the phone was shoved at her. “Tell him,” her soon-to-be-murderer ordered. He was bending down, still keeping his foot on her ribs.

Mignon reached to hold the device, but it remained clutched in the thick, cruel hand of the man who had taken her prisoner. She sighed quietly, praying in her heart for deliverance. Of course she did not want to die, but more than that, she could not bear if it happened this way.

“Yes, Hamilton,” she said. “I’m here.”

“Do you know where you are?!” Hamilton demanded. “Larry and Paul are with me. We’ve been looking for you all over the city!”

“I don’t know,” Mignon said. “It seems to be an old warehouse at the docks. We drove for a long time before we . . .”

The phone was pulled away. “That’s enough,” the hitman said. To Hamilton he added, “And it should be enough for you too, Mr. Burger. Try to find her. It won’t be in time.”

“I know who hired you!” Hamilton cried. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Listen and find out what I’ll get away with.” The phone was set aside, now on speaker.

The instant the assassin eased the pressure with his foot Mignon was ready to try to fight back. She seized his ankle with both hands, wrenching it away from her. The adrenaline surging through her veins, she got up and lunged at the stunned man. Crates crashed to the floor as they fell into the mess.

“What’s going on?!” Hamilton’s voice yelled from the phone. “Mignon!”

“Mother!” Larry exclaimed, unable to contain his panic any longer.

There was no chance to reply. Mignon struggled to her feet, turning to run in terror to the door. But her abductor was already recovering. He pushed a crate aside and leaped up to give chase, taking hold of her arm and pulling her back with a cruel jerk.

“Don’t think you can get away so easy,” he said, still in that same horrible, matter-of-fact voice. “We still have a performance to give.”
****
Hamilton was finding it almost impossible to control his own panic and outrage. He gripped the steering wheel as they arrived at the docks. The area was so large. How would they ever find the correct warehouse? And in time? From the sounds on the phone, Mignon was losing her desperate fight for life. The man had been striking her and slamming her into the crates for several eternal minutes. She had been steadfastly trying not to scream, as Hamilton had known. When she could stand the pain no longer, the cry chilled everyone in the car.

“He’s killing her!” Larry screamed. “I don’t see a car at any of these warehouses! Maybe he even drove it inside. How can we just drive past all of these places? We have to stop and check each one!”

“Larry, we can’t!” Hamilton retorted. “Then we wouldn’t have any chance of finding her in time! We have to look for that car and pray he parked outside the warehouse!”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “He wants us to find her, just after it’s too late,” he said. “He probably parked outside, alright. But it’s probably someplace we won’t get to for a while.”

“Did you get Perry on the phone?” Hamilton demanded. Perry had met up with Tragg and they were looking together.

“Yeah. They’re here now, somewhere,” said Paul.

The sounds of a body being beaten were coming through the phone now. There was nothing else, no screams, no moans.

The sudden firing of a gun nearly caused Hamilton to slam on the car’s brakes. He was sheet-white.

Larry snatched the phone from where it was sitting in its cradle. “Mother?!” he cried. “Mother, are you there?! Mother, answer me if you can hear me!”

“Hello? Larry?” It was Tragg’s voice. “This piece of garbage is dead.”

“Where’s Mother?!” Larry demanded.

“I don’t know,” Tragg admitted. He sounded pained. “When Perry and I arrived, this man jumped us. He dragged me to the floor and pulled a gun. I shot him. We’re looking for Mignon now.”

“Ask him how to get there!” Hamilton said to Larry.

Tragg heard and gave the directions. Hamilton wasted no time in following them.

He tried not to think about what they might find when they got there. Mignon was alright. She must have gotten away, just as she had escaped the man who had attacked her at the movie studio so many years ago.

Who was he trying to kid? Mignon had screamed. She was not alright.

When they reached the warehouse, Larry leaped out before Hamilton even had the car in Park. Hamilton turned off the engine and gave chase as fast as he could. Paul was right on his heels.

“I’ve never heard Mignon scream like that,” Hamilton confessed as they ran. “Never, in more than twenty-five years.”

“I have,” Paul said, so quiet he was almost not heard.

Hamilton wavered. “When?!” he demanded, shocked.

“When we thought Vivalene had killed you,” Paul said. “After everyone got their memories back and Mignon remembered you and thought she’d treated you badly until your death, she screamed.” He shook his head. “I’ll never forget that.”

A chill went through Hamilton’s veins. He ran through the doorway and into the warehouse.

In the end, he was the one who found her. She was crumpled behind some fallen crates, near the doorway into one of the other rooms. Her hair had come loose, spilling around her. Her clothes, torn and bloodied in places, revealed heartless wounds and bruises.

He fell to his knees, reaching for her with a trembling hand. “Mignon?” he choked out. He touched her shoulder. Not receiving a response, he grabbed her wrist, seeking for a precious throb.

Abruptly she recoiled, pulling her wrist away from him. Hamilton stared at her, his feelings mixed. He was joyously relieved that she was alive. But . . . how badly was she hurt?

“Mignon?” He bent over her, gently brushing her hair away from her face. “Mignon, it’s me.”

Her eyes opened halfway. “Hamilton,” she whispered. She turned more onto her back, a smile on her lips. “You found me.”

Hamilton smiled too. “Of course I did,” he said.

“I should have known. That wasn’t his touch.” Worry flickered across her features. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No, no,” Hamilton hurried to assure her. “Tragg got here first and shot him.”

“That must have been right after I tried to get away the second time,” Mignon mused. “He was about to follow me when I heard the door crash open.” She sighed, bringing a hand to her head. “I was so dizzy after he hit me. I must have lost consciousness.”

“I’ll get you out of here,” Hamilton promised. “The doctor will look you over.” He reached for her but paused. “. . . You don’t mind if I carry you, do you? There’s quite an obstacle course here.”

Mignon closed her eyes. “I don’t mind.”

The very fact that she agreed so willingly made Hamilton worry all over again. He gathered her into his arms with care and rose. He had not called to the others that he had found her, and did not intend to. They would see he had her soon enough. He did not want to make her headache worse by yelling.

She rested against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Hamilton,” she said, her voice soft. “For this, and for what you and Larry had to hear on the phone.”

“Don’t be,” Hamilton said. “If anything, I should be apologizing. He was hired by someone out to get me.”

She gripped weakly at his suit jacket. “This wasn’t your fault,” she said with effort. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ll try not to, anyway,” Hamilton said. “It won’t be easy.”

“I know,” Mignon said quietly.

If anyone knew about the difficulties of not blaming oneself for a loved one coming to harm, she did.