Picture Postcards from L.A.: Beryl

"No, just the opposite. But, I have a rule."

"What rule?"

"Don't get personally involved in a case."

"Oh? You want to get personally involved?"

"I'm on your case, so no."

"But if you weren't? On my case, I mean."

"That's something I'm not willing to discuss right now." I turned and left the bathroom, disconcerted by how Beryl had affected me so much. Despite my rule, I was getting personally involved and hated myself for doing so. I sat back down and furiously thought about getting Beryl to the safe house as quickly as possible so I could get back to work.

I had myself back under control by the time Beryl came out of the bathroom. She looked contrite when she said, "I'm sorry, Ray. I shouldn't tease you like that."

I smiled reassuringly at her and said, "Apology accepted. Let me get ready, and we'll get you some breakfast and a safe place to stay for a few days."

I headed into the bathroom and quickly performed my toilet, dressing in jeans, a pullover, and low-rise sneakers. When I came out, Beryl was ready to go, her bag clutched in her lap and a smile on her face. She had put her hair up in a loose bun and was similarly attired. I quickly put my stuff away so housekeeping wouldn't find anything. After gathering the documents I needed to drop off for Brian, I said, "Let's go."

"Okay," Beryl said as she jumped up and headed to the door.

"Hold on," I said, darting ahead of her and cracking the door to look out. I quickly determined that no one was hanging around outside, so I opened the door and let Beryl out. I put Beryl's bag behind the seats, jumped in, and started up the car. We pulled out, and I motored up Sepulveda Blvd and turned left on Rosco Blvd. As we headed toward the 405, we came up to a Denny's. I pulled into the parking lot and parked by the door.

We went in and got a seat by the front window so I could keep an eye on my car. As usual, it drew admiring glances as customers entered and left. We quickly ordered breakfast, and while we waited for our food, we talked about current events, not wanting to acknowledge that Beryl was in danger and was going into hiding. We talked about the big mess with Coke trying to redo their famous drink with New Coke, and now they were announcing that they were bringing back Classic Coke. We also discussed how Chris Evert had beaten Martina Navratilova for the French Open title, garnering her 17th Grand Slam title.

When our food came, we quickly ate. I covered the bill, and we headed out. Once on Rosco, I got on the 405 and headed south. I took the Wilshire Blvd exit after passing the Los Angeles National Cemetery and took Wilshire east to Veterans Blvd. I turned north on Veterans Blvd, passing the National Cemetery and its endless rows of headstones again before turning left at Levering Ave. I pulled into the driveway of the safe house I planned to use for Beryl, a house that belonged to a friend of mine.

By the time we were out of the car, and I had retrieved Beryl's bag from behind the seat, the front door opened, and a man with graying hair at the temples stepped out. "Hello, Ray," he said as I walked up to him.

"Hello, Sir," I said, falling back into the familiarity of my military training. Colonel Matthew Underwood (Retired) had been my favorite teacher when I was going through training to become an investigator for CID. I was one of the first women allowed to take the training. He had taken me under his wing and made sure I was given every opportunity to become one of the first female members of CID. Because of his tutelage, I made it, and we have kept in touch over the years.

"Ray, I'm retired now. You don't have to 'Sir' me."

"Sorry, Sir," I said with a smile. "I hate to ask you, but I need you to take Beryl in for a couple of days."

"Is she in trouble?" Matt asked.

"No, but some unseemly people may want to do her harm."

"No problem, Ray," Matt said. He turned to Beryl and said, "Hello, Beryl. I'm Matt. You are welcome to stay with me as long as you need."

"Thank you, Matt," Beryl said, smiling widely at Matt.

Matt turned and held the door open so we could go inside. Once inside, Matt showed Beryl the room where she would be staying. When he came back out, I said, "Thanks for doing this, Matt. I owe you."

"No, you don't," Matt sternly said, frowning at me. "I can never make up for what they did to you, so you don't owe me anything."

"Still, I feel like I'm imposing on you," I said, glad Matt was willing to do this for me. He was not in any way responsible, but he had taken it personally when the Army cashiered me. I hadn't done anything wrong, but the Army needed a scapegoat, and I was chosen for that role. Matt had called in every favor he had to try to help me, but to no avail. His crusade to help me had cost him his shot at General, so he retired after putting in his thirty years.

"Consider it my privilege to help you out," Matt said, finally smiling again.

I surprised Matt by stepping up to him and hugging him. "Thanks, Matt. It was your support that helped me get through everything."

I quickly disengaged, not wanting to embarrass him. I stepped back, came to attention, and snapped him a salute. When he returned my salute, I dropped mine and said, "I need to go now. I'll call when I can come to get Beryl."

Matt led me to the door and watched as I got in my car and took off. I heaved a sigh as I drove off, shoving the memories brought up by seeing Matt back into its box. I cleared my mind and headed to my rendezvous with Brian. I once again found myself pulling up to a nice home in Beverly Hills that had a 'For Sale' sign in front of it, albeit from a different realtor. I went up to the front door, and it opened, and Mr. Wilson said, "Hello, Ms. Fryman."

I smiled and said, "Hello, Mr. Wilson."

Mr. Wilson stepped aside, and I walked in, looking around for Brian. Unfortunately, I didn't see him, so I turned to Mr. Wilson with a questioning look on my face. He said, "My client couldn't make it today, but he sends his assurance that he hasn't forgotten about you. Do you have the documents?"

I handed him the copies of the documents and said, "Does he have anything for me?"

Mr. Wilson handed me a sealed manila envelope and said, "My client says this should help you."

I took the envelope and said, "Please tell him I appreciate it."

"I will, Ms. Fryman," he said as he opened the door to let me leave. I headed to my car and drove back to the Panorama motel. Once in my room, I opened the envelope and retrieved the enclosed documents. I quickly scanned them and realized that if everything I read was true, I'd be able to find Camille and wrap up this case within the next couple of days. However, the information I'd been given needed to be verified, so I still had to do some investigating. At least I did have a better idea of where to look.

With Beryl safely stashed away, I was able to get back into the game and plan my next moves. I picked up the phone to call Chris, pass on some information to her, and ask if she had any information for me.

"Detective Graham."

"Chris, this is Ray. Do you have anything for me?"

"We reviewed the security tapes and determined that Camille left the Gala at 9:57 PM in the company of an unidentified male subject. There was no evidence that she was acting under duress, and we are still combing the guest list and staff to try to identify the male."

"Thanks. I hope you find out who he is."

"I'm sure we will. Also, George wanted me to tell you that they caught the kid who had been messing around your friend's house last night."

"Oh?"

"Yes, apparently, he had broken into several homes in the neighborhood last night."

"Okay, thanks. That's a relief."

"By the way, your tip the other day led to a good bust. Thanks."

"No problem. I've got something else for you." I went on to tell Chris what I had learned from the information I had gotten from Brian. I knew he had given me that information to pass on to the LAPD, basically using the police through me to keep his competitors off-balance. I didn't mind because most of the people I tipped off to Chris were basically thugs who would kill you as soon as look at you. Brian operated at another level and was much more urbane in his criminal dealings.

When I was done, Chris thanked me for the information and ended the call. I was relieved to discover that Camille hadn't been abducted from the Gala directly but on her way home. That meant the chances that she was still alive were good. Knowing, too, that the attempted break-in at Beryl's home was unrelated to the case eased my mind. With all that good news to buoy up my spirits, I planned my next steps.

The information I had from Brian put the location where Camille might be in an industrial park next to the Van Nuys airport. This airport was used for private jets, both short-range and long-range models, and was one of the busiest airports in the country. It would be easy to have the buyer fly in, pick up the merchandise, and take off for parts unknown. I decided to scout out the area while it was still light and then plan a visit for later tonight.

I pulled some surveillance equipment - camera, binoculars, and rangefinder scope - out of my bag. I took off, going west on Rosco and turning south on Balboa. Based on the information from Brian, I could concentrate on the industrial park to the west of the main Van Nuys runway.

I turned into the park at Stagg Street and slowly tooled up and down all the streets and alleys, looking for anything out of the norm to narrow down my search. I finished the initial pass by coming back to Balboa via Saticoy Street. I noted that Bull Creek was crossed by bridges only on Stagg and Saticoy Streets. Otherwise, it was fenced in and not crossable without considerable effort. This meant that I'd have to drive into the industrial park later tonight, so I kept an eye out for places where I could park my car out of sight.

Based on what I saw on my initial pass-through, I noted that it was quite busy with trucks, mostly 2-3 axle box trucks and panel vans picking up and delivering shipments. I found three places I wanted to scout more closely on the north side of the park, all close to gates through the chain link fence around the terminal area of the airport. There were several private jets parked there, which were easily accessible from the gates. I spotted a couple of Learjet 23/25/28s and 54/55/56s, several Grumman Gulfstream IIs and IIIs, three Cessna Citation IIIs, and even a Dassault Falcon 50. I noted that the gates had security booths next to them and were currently manned, so I'd have to be wary of them if they were manned overnight.

Having narrowed the search area down, I took a second and more thorough pass through the area, stopping multiple times and pulling out my surveillance equipment to look for security cameras and motion-sensitive lighting. Based on what I found, I determined there were a couple of spots where I could stage my car for a quick getaway if anything went wrong. I was able to find several blind spots for the security cameras that would allow me to get up close to the buildings and investigate them. I noted where all of the doors were and whether any of them were obviously alarmed.

I spent a couple of hours making sure I had seen everything I could see from the street, planning the order in which I would scout out the places later tonight before heading back to my room. It was dinner time, so I stopped and picked up some food from El Polo Loco, one of my favorite fast-food places. The only place I found that was better for fast food was Tomboy's Famous Chiliburgers.

When I got back to the motel, I undressed and took a nap, setting my alarm for midnight. When the alarm went off, I quickly performed my toilet, changing into my stealth outfit: all black with no metal buckles or snaps that covered my body, black socks, gloves, and shoes. I put my hair up in a loose bun so I could don my black balaclava once I got where I was going. I also made sure my.44 Desert Eagle was loaded and ready to go in my shoulder holster under my left arm and two spare magazines under my right arm. It had quickly become my favorite despite its newness, replacing the M1911A1 I had used for years. I had a concealed permit for it but rarely needed it when on a case. However, with human traffickers, I had no compunction about using it if I needed to -- they were the lowest scum on Earth.

When I was ready, I headed out, driving carefully so as not to draw any attention to myself. Traffic was as light as you could expect for the time of night, so I made it to my destination without incident. I pulled into the industrial park and found the spot I had previously picked out to park my car where it wouldn't draw attention. I was relieved that it was unoccupied. I parked, waiting in the dark to see if my arrival had garnered any attention. I reached under the dash and flipped the switch that cut off the interior lights so I could get into and out of the car without any lights coming on to betray my position.

After being sure I hadn't drawn any attention, I quickly pulled my balaclava on and gathered up my gear. I exited the car, carefully closing the door to prevent making any sound. There were still the occasional trucks entering and leaving, so I had to work around that, timing my moves so no headlights were lighting up the area around me when I moved. I quickly made my way to the first spot I planned to use to scout one of the buildings I had picked out to investigate. I spent the next fifteen minutes observing the area around the building, checking to see if there was a foot patrol around the perimeter. Not seeing one, I started moving up closer to the building, avoiding open areas and the one camera I was aware of. Once up against the building, I made my way to the door I planned to use to get in. After checking for alarms and finding none, I unlocked the door and eased it open before slipping inside.

I stood there in the dark, looking and listening for anything that showed signs that there were people inside. After a minute or so, it was obvious that the building was unoccupied. There were no lights or sounds, so I could eliminate this place from my list of possibilities. Rather than risk setting off any motion sensors active inside the building, I quickly eased back out the door, made sure it locked after it closed, and headed for my second target.

Before approaching the next building, I again watched for foot patrols or other active defenses. Seeing none, I made my way up against the building next to the door I had chosen to make my entrance. This one proved harder to get through, but I managed to open it after a minute of work. Again, I eased inside, letting the door close behind me. This time, there was activity inside the building, over by the loading docks.

I carefully made my way over to the loading docks and saw that they were loading bags of rice into a delivery van. I moved around to a point where I could see into the back of the van and saw nothing but pallets of bags of rice in the back. By the time I was satisfied that this was the only activity in the building, they were done loading, and the van pulled away. The supervisor told everyone to clock out and go home, apologizing for keeping them so late.

I waited until everyone left, and the building went silent and dark. I made my way to the door I had used to enter and quietly exited, making sure to lock the door behind me. Now that I had eliminated the two least likely locations, it was time to visit the last one.

As I made my way toward my target, I noticed there was much more activity around it. As I waited, I watched a security guard making his rounds, checking the doors, and inserting his key at each station before moving on. I waited, timing his rounds, and found I had twenty minutes between rounds. Timing my approach, I snuck up to the door I had chosen to make my entrance because there were bushes near it that would shield me from being seen. I quickly got it unlocked. Just as I was going to open it and slip in, I heard a noise behind me, and a voice muttered with impatience, "It's about time you showed up."

I froze, thinking I had been discovered. I waited, expecting to be grabbed, and prepared myself to resist capture. Then I heard another voice say, "Yeah, well, I had trouble getting away."

I quickly realized I had unfortunately become witness to an illicit rendezvous of some kind. Whatever they were going to do, I hoped it would be quick so I could get in or get away before the guard came around again.

"Do you have it?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"Well, give it to me."

"Let me see the money."

After hearing some rustling, I heard, "Same time next week?"

"Yes."

I heard the two people move off, and I heaved a sigh of relief. I waited a minute to ensure no one else was around before easing the door open and slipping inside. As I eased the door close, I realized that I had been lucky to have been delayed entering because I saw the back of a security guard making rounds inside the building heading away from me. If I had opened the door when I planned to, I would have run into the guard. He must not have checked to see if the door was locked, so I hoped he wouldn't find it when he passed by again.

I assessed the situation, noticing that most of the building was dark, with lights on only at one end of the building. Listening carefully, I heard the murmur of voices off where the lights were. I made my way toward the voices, sticking to the shadows as best as possible. I had no idea how much time I had until the guard found the door unlocked, so I planned to make a quick survey before leaving. Once I got close enough to make out individual voices, I could hear several male voices talking about the baseball game that had taken place earlier between graphic descriptions of their sexual exploits. I approached close enough to count seven men, none of whom would have won a prize for hygiene, gathered around a couple of tables, playing cards.

I eased back into the shadows and carefully made my way around them, looking for any evidence that any women were being held captive. I checked every door, checking if it was locked before moving on to the next. I came to one that was not only locked, but also had a bar across it. I put my ear up against the door, and I could hear sobs and hushed female voices.

"Bingo," I thought as I pulled back into the shadows to determine what I wanted to do next. I had no idea who was behind the door, so I didn't know if one of them was Camille. I really wanted to get through the door and see who was being kept behind it. However, I decided to finish surveying the building first, planning an escape route if I did try to break the girls out. My other option was to get out and tell Chris about the place, hoping they could get in and make the bust without any girls getting hurt. Either way, the more scouting I did, the better the information I'd have to decide.

I spent the next ten minutes checking everything out, finding the security guard at his post at the security desk. Apparently, he wasn't only patrolling the premises, so the chance that the door I came through would be found unlocked was minimal. After a thorough sweep of the building, I found that the seven men and the security guard were the only people in the building, other than whoever was behind the locked and barred door.

I hadn't seen any evidence of cameras inside the building, so I could try to get through the door and see what was there. I planned my entry while listening to the men, not hearing anything about an imminent move. I got no indication that they were getting up and moving around. I did hear a few snippets of conversation, inferring they were aware of what was behind the locked door. When I was ready to move, I slipped away and made my way to the door. Using my lock pick, I got through the door lock. I carefully eased the bar up out of the way.