Five Entrances

Part One of Four

Synopsis: International financial and political intrigue within Yellowstone National Park.

Five Entrances

The headlights behind me are growing closer.  I’m a newcomer to Yellowstone National Park. The sun is setting and there are no street lamps to guide me down the narrow twisting roads which are home to a myriad of wildlife which cross the road at will. The lights behind me are growing ever closer and I realize that there is only one person who knows the twists and turns within Yellowstone so intimately. I press down hard upon the accelerator in hopes of losing the “predator”. My tires screech and squeal at every turn. I’m the “prey” and know that survival belongs to the “animal” who knows the park most intimately.

Everybody reaches a breaking point and can’t take it anymore. I reached mine in middle age and at the zenith of my career on Wall Street. I was packed and on the next flight to the pristine beauty of Wyoming and far away from the schemers, manipulators, and predators surrounding me on Wall Street. I traded a doorman for an A-frame cabin and sought to “trade” in my “career path” for a “dirt path” and bury my past behind me. What I learned since moving here is that the pristine beauty of Yellowstone masks its own host of predators and nature metes out stern justice to anybody who violates its “principles”. I could use natures help now!  There are five entrances to Yellowstone and I’m hoping to find one way out. A bison heard strolls suddenly onto the road ahead of me. I slam on the breaks but can only avoid hitting the heard by swerving off the narrow road and into the woods. The branches snap and scrape my exotic Italian car as I plummet like a bullet through the dark forest propelled by the sleek aerodynamic lines of the car. One branch after another slows my car which eventually stops cradled by the green leafy “arms” of a tree. I didn’t expect a car so light and fast to be built so strong. If I survive this ordeal, the car manufacturer in Bolognese will receive a sincere thank you as I’m certain the car saved my life. I’m breathing heavily and my head is bleeding after breaking the windshield. I’m dizzy, nauseous, and suddenly there is silence and darkness.

My first impression of Wyoming was stepping off the plane and onto the windy tarmac of Jackson Hole Airport. I was immediately enveloped by the cool, clean breeze and the air was sweet and fresh. I was in awe of the natural beauty surrounding me. The Teton mountains surrounded the airport and I believe my flight was the only one of the day. My fellow passengers were a rugged assortment of locals wearing boots, cowboy hats, and Rolex watches. The remainder of the passengers appeared to be tourists. I walked into an intimate, almost empty airport adorned with western memorabilia. The tiny baggage claim area had only one carousel and I was greeted by my driver, a perky young blond wearing a long ponytail who introduced herself as “Sue”.  Sue was a country girl in her early thirties. She was cute and her tight jeans and flannel shirt accentuated her beautiful figure. Sue and I grabbed my baggage and headed out towards her minivan marked “AG Transportation”. As we drove out of the airport and onto the highway, I was struck by the enormity of the open space and the few cars on the highway. It was late afternoon and the setting sun cast playful shadows against the Teton mountains which guides us as we made our way down the highway and towards Jackson Hole which was about twenty minutes from the airport. Sue told me she was born and raised on a farm. She was a proud former “4H” student and “Future Farmer of America”. She was innocent and very different from the many woman I dated and “conquered” in the city. Sue was genuine and easy to speak with and was very curious why a successful man from the “big city” would leave a life of luxury and plenty for the rugged individualism of Wyoming. The cell phone cradled on her dash began to vibrate furiously and Sue quickly reached for the ear piece and pushed the green talk button. The voice on the other end was muffled but I could tell that it was male and made Sue very nervous. The only words Sue spoke were “yes sir”, “ok”, and “I will right away”. Sue disconnected the call and removed the ear piece. It took her a few moments to regain her composure after the call. I asked “who was that?” and Sue, replied “the boss, the man who owns the “company”. Sue was upset and I could tell she didn’t want to elaborate so I dropped the subject. The ride to the hotel passed quickly. I was tipsy from the booze on the plane, lonely, and horny.  Just as I was about to invite Sue for a drink, she mentioned that she and her husband “Hank” lived in a trailer just outside of town. Her husband was a “rough neck” and was away on the oil rigs for weeks at a time. When he was home, Hank worked part time on a big ranch just outside of Jackson.  I figured Sue would be an easy conquest when I was ready to pursue her. One spa weekend at a five star hotel would forever pry her away from the mundane existence she pretended to enjoy with her husband. We pulled up a steep hill and parked in front of the lobby of the “Jackson Lodge”. The Lodge was a new, quaint, and a log cabin style hotel of four stories. There was no valet or doorman to assist with the luggage so Sue and I schlepped the luggage to the front desk. I tipped Sue twenty dollars and she tenderly shook my hand as she accepted the gratuity and walked backed to the minivan swinging her hips in the tight jeans. She winked as she drove away. The lobby was warm, inviting, and lit up by a raging fire within a beautiful massive fireplace. The ceiling was high and the walls were adorned with western artwork and the heads of deer, bear, and fox. Like the airport, the lobby was virtually empty except for a couple of Chinese tourists leafing through the maps and tourist pamphlets. I felt comfortable staying here until my real estate agent could find me a permanent residence.

The desk clerk on duty was a pretty, thirtyish, shapely Latin woman who spoke broken English and seemed out of place in Jackson with her accent. Although she was short in stature, she was fit and looked like she knew hand to handle herself in a “jam”.  Her name tag read “Maria” and she was welcoming, efficient, and handed me the key to my room. There was a quaint bar and restaurant off the lobby which was open and inviting but I was eager to check into my room. I took the elevator up to the third floor and opened the door of a well-appointed studio size room with western style furnishings, knotty pine wall paneling, thick comfortable carpeting, and a fireplace. Wow, this hotel was a find!  The bathroom was beautiful with a large shower, marble counters, and high-quality fixtures. I jumped into the shower, turned on the water, and enjoyed the warm rushing water from the massive shower head. The bath gel, shampoo, and conditioner were high quality and pine scented. I dried myself off with a plush towel, wrapped myself in the thick robe, and headed for the king size bed. Sitting on the bed against the pillow was a teddy bear. I have stayed in five-star hotels throughout the world but none had a teddy bear to greet me. I named the bear “Mike” and gently set him aside as I turned down the bed. Mike took a “spill” and landed face down on the floor. To my surprise, Mike had a pen knife protruding from his back. I picked up Mike and placed him on the night stand and slid in between the sheets and closed my eyes. I couldn’t fall asleep because I was “creeped out” by Mike’s “knife wound”.  I reached for the phone and called the front desk. I was greeted with “Good evening, Sir. This is Gregory. How may I help you”? I explained to Gregory that the accommodations were wonderful but I was greeted by an ugly prank. Gregory apologized and suggested that the former guest may have had a child who played the prank and offered to “upgrade me”. I accepted and Gregory said he would “be right up”. A firm knock on the door notified me that Gregory had arrived. I opened the door and invited Gregory inside. Gregory was in his twenties, ruggedly handsome, and surprisingly “GQ” in his smart pressed jeans, Gucci loafers, white button-down shirt, and black blazer. Gregory asked me to follow him to the fourth floor corner, one bedroom suite which was my upgrade. As I walked behind Gregory, I couldn’t help but catch the aroma of his cologne which was a masculine vanilla scent which likely drove the women “wild” along with his good looks. Gregory opened the door to a massive condominium style one bedroom suite with a full kitchen and 180 degree view of the Tetons and Jackson Valley. There was already a complimentary bottle of champagne waiting for me as well as a basket of fruit. Gregory asked if the room was “satisfactory” to which I said “yes”, handed him a gratuity, and thanked him. Gregory informed me that he would gather my clothing, personal effects, and return shortly. I poured myself a glass of champagne and stepped on to the balcony. The view of the majestic Teton Mountains and the valley below was breathtaking.  Gregory returned shortly as promised and carefully withdrew each item of clothing he carefully folded and packed from my luggage and placed the clothing in various drawers. He also neatly placed my toiletries on the bathroom counter. Gregory apologized again for the inconvenience, offered me his card, confirmed my seven am wake up call, and left for the evening. I returned to the bathroom to take some aspirin and found one of his cards turned upside down with the handwritten inscription “It was a pleasure to serve you this evening. G.”  I appreciated the “service” but the note was a little too intimate. It was enough “adventure” for the evening and I headed for the King size bed and slid into the plush high quality bedding. I had an early morning appointment with the real estate agent and a list of rentals to look at. I closed my eyes but found it difficult to fall asleep as I was accustomed to the traffic noise of Manhattan. I crawled out of bed and slid open the window. A rush of cool mountain air filled my room. I heard crickets, an owl, and the distant howl of a wolf which provided the necessary “white noise” of the city and I fell into a deep sleep.

I’m sitting in my office staring a multiple computer screens with my telephone headset tightly gripping my ears. My trades were set based upon the intelligence I had gathered. I predicted a spike in oil prices based upon negative news coming out of the Middle East. My “intelligence” sources outside the United States were tipping me off to recent “chatter” about impending terrorist “actions” against the United States.  I bet the “Goldfarb” firm’s money on a spike in the price of oil.  I watched intently as the trades flashed across the screen and my adrenaline rushed as the trading lines began to fall indicating a drop in the price of oil. I knew that if the trend continued, the firm would lose hundreds of millions of dollars on my miscalculation. Suddenly, the trading floor shook and the sound wave from the explosion downtown rocked our building. My phone stopped ringing. Coworkers run to the windows in panic, pointing towards downtown and screaming. I didn’t have time to find out what was causing the panic and watched the screen as if my “life depended upon it”. I watched the graph rise almost quickly in a vertical line indicating that price of oil was rapidly rising due to turmoil occurring downtown. It took only seconds before the trading line crossed my sale price and the screen announced “trade concluded”. The Goldfarb firm made one billion dollars profit on my trade! I sat up from my chair, looked about the trading floor, and everybody had left the building. An evacuation warning began blaring over the building loudspeaker. The joy of the trade was quickly replaced by fear as I ran towards the staircase and began my descent down the building. The lights within the staircase went dark and I stumbled and rolled to the next floor. I lay on my back alternating between consciousness and unconsciousness.

“Ring……Ring…..”The wakeup call jarred me from a terrible dream only to find myself in the sun drenched hotel suite safely in Jackson. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and stumbled out of the master bedroom and into the well appointed kitchen to make a pot of coffee and found pastries, freshly brewed coffee, juice, and bottled water. I was in such a deep sleep, I didn’t hear room service enter the condo. A handwritten card was left on the tray reading “Compliments of Maria” and smelled like lilac perfume.  The real estate agent would soon be in the lobby to pick me up and I had no time to ponder either the significance of the breakfast delivery or Maria’s “card”. I raced for the bathroom and shower.

I exited the elevator on the lobby level and was greeted by Maria and Gregory who said in unison “have wonderful day, Sir.” Each of them was intending to make an impression upon me. A burly, tall, sixtyish age gentleman wearing an elegant western style business suit, cowboy hat,  expensive Italian western boots and a tightly trimmed full moustache was warming himself by the fireplace. He rose and extended his large hand towards me. His grip was firm. “Good morning! I’m Jess the real estate agent. Welcome to Jackson. It’s my pleasure to show you a few wonderful real estate opportunities this morning” He motioned to his Lincoln Navigator parked just outside the lobby.  I got inside and sat on the passenger side. This was one plush SUV. The interior was leather. A faint smell of cigar smoke permeated the interior. Jess offered me a thermos of coffee and a mug marked “Jess’ Real Estate Agency” and said “help yourself”. We looked at several ski condos not far from the hotel. I found them to be sterile and claustrophobic. I moved to Jackson for the wide open spaces and if I wanted to live in a condo, I’d stay in the big city. Besides, I wasn’t a skier and loathed the specter of hoards of skiers descending upon my neighborhood during ski season. We looked at a beautiful home inside a private, gated golf community. The home was too large and I had visited golf courses much nicer than this course. I also detested the sport. I was looking for a home surrounded by nature. The morning passed quickly and I was growing impatient. Maybe Jess wasn’t the agent for me?  He didn’t seem to “get what I was looking for” and just as I was about to fire him, Jess pulled the Navigator alongside a bridge crossing a steam just outside of town. He reached for a set of binoculars and said, “Look over there inside those trees”. As he turned to point the binoculars out the window and towards the trees, I recognized a “Glock 9mm” within his shoulder holster. He handed the binoculars to me and for the first time in my life, I was looking at a fourteen point elk grazing and drinking amongst the trees unmolested. I was mesmerized by the majesty of the animal. I reluctantly handed the binoculars back to Jess. Jess must have read the astonishment on my face and suggested “I’ve saved the best for last. I think you’ll like the last property on the list”.

We drove out of Jackson and towards Yellowstone. I was amazed at how few other cars there were on the road. The further out of town we travelled the more beautiful and serene the landscape became. I was “lost” within the natural beauty and was able to “tune out” Jess’ small talk. I knew that I had made the right decision to move here. It felt like home. We drove about an hour and a half and I spied a sign saying “Entering Yellowstone National Park”. Just as I was going to suggest to Jess that he missed a “turn”, Jess said “there’s the entrance, just up there on the right”. He turned the Navigator on to a small dirt trail between two trees with a rusted sign reading “No Trespassing. Mammoth Ranch”. Jess said “this is your driveway and it’s not on any map or satellite image”. We drove for miles through the beautiful pristine country. I knew this property bordered magnificent Yellowstone National Park. I saw deer, fox, bison, and moose all which went about their business paying no attention to us. After all, we were in their “neighborhood”. We must have driven five miles into the wilderness before heading up a small hill and as we crested the hill, an “A frame” cabin was in the distance with a thin wisp of smoke billowing from the chimney. It looked like an image from a Christmas postcard or Rockwell painting. We pulled up in front, parked, and exited to look inside. “Well, this is the last rental on the list. It’s a 1500 SF cabin on septic and propane. The owner is offering a long term ground lease on the cabin which includes five acres of land”. I was “sold” without even going inside. I was renting a piece of “heaven” offering privacy and solace with my next door neighbor being Yellowstone. I began to hear the muffled sound of shotgun blasts in the distance. I presumed hunters were about.  “The owner is a tough old fellow named Ernest Dickers”. I knew who he was talking about. Dicker’s was the sole owner of the largest privately held oil and gas company in the state of Wyoming named “Mammoth Oil” and a fierce competitor to my former boss, Mr. Goldfarb. He was a big donor to conservative political causes and was known as a “neo-con” and close advisor to Republican politicians including Presidents.

We stepped up onto a covered porch and Jess opened the door. It was small but cozy inside. I was struck by the newness of everything. The timbers smelled as if they had just been felled and the varnish smelled freshly applied. The living room included comfortable western style furnishings, a hardwood floor, and a modern version of the “pot belly” stove which had a welcoming and toasty fire within it. The kitchen was small but efficient and included new stainless steel appliances, granite counters, and sufficient cabinet space. New pots, pans, utensils, plates, glasses, cups, and all the necessities were neatly and efficiently placed within their appointed places. The kitchen had a new coffee maker and blender. We walked up the stairs into the loft which served as the master bedroom where I found a comfortable king size bed with plush new linens, pillows, and plenty of blankets. To my astonishment, the bed was situated so that I could stare out a large picture window and into Yellowstone. I had seen many Park Avenue views but none could match the beauty of this view. There was a small but very adequate bathroom off the loft with a tub and shower combination. I found an assortment of men’s toiletries including many of my favorite brands. I opened the closet door and found my clothing hanging and luggage neatly stacked. I opened up the drawers to the dresser and found my clothes neatly folded and organized. I was perplexed at how and why my personal effects were already here. I wanted the cabin but Jess and I needed a lease from the owner.

Just as we exited the cabin, an SUV pulled up and its driver motioned us over to speak with him. The SUV was marked “Exotic Wildlife Tours”. The driver was a burly, thirty something tattooed balding man who looked like a “roustabout” and his passenger was a gruff old cowboy who saw one too many rodeos and saloons. The driver said sternly “Mr. Dickers would like to speak with you”. We walked towards the SUV and the old cowboy said to Jess “not you, only him”. Jess politely excused himself and said “No worries. I’ll wait here for you.” I got inside the SUV just in time to hear the old cowboy finish another tail of boozing, fighting, and womanizing. The driver ignored me the entire way. The shot gun blasts grew louder as we headed towards a clearing in the woods. In the distance, I could see a stately mansion, corrals, barns, hundreds of cattle grazing, and a private air strip with a helicopter and a long range Gulfstream G650 with a monogrammed “M” on the tail. This was one expensive private plane and capable of flying non-stop virtually anywhere in the world. The SUV slowed and approached a rotund man in his seventies with silver closely cropped hair. He was shooting skeet’s. His well trained dogs remained seated at his feet as I exited the SUV and approached their master.  A table of wines, scotches, water, and fruit was conveniently placed alongside a comfortable camping chair. The man cleared his throat and spoke. “So, you’re the fella that wants to lease the cabin?” Yes, sir. He lifted his rifle, aimed, said “pull” and fired hitting the clay target dead on. “Here, you try” handing me a beautiful Ithaca shotgun. I hesitated. “Go on. It won’t bite you!” he said in a condescending tone which ticked me off. I raised the shot gun, aimed, and said “pull” three times in rapid succession each time hitting the clay target dead on.  I carefully handed Dickers the shotgun. “Where did you learn to shoot?” he asked me while pouring a glass of Glenfiddich. I put myself through college on an Army ROTC scholarship. It was the Army who taught me how to shoot when I wasn’t writing speeches for generals.  He raised the crystal glass to his lips and took a slow sip of the scotch. “You’re too modest.  I understand you were assigned as an army liaison to the IDF and studied mathematics at Technion”. It’s not unusual for the Army to permit officers to complete graduate programs while completing their tours, Mr. Dickers. Dickers took another sip of the scotch and reached for a box of expensive cigars. Suddenly, a van marked “AG Transportation” appeared and pulled alongside us. A short and stocky sixtyish Latino man wearing western clothing exited the van which was left running. His western style belt had a large custom belt buckle in the shape of a sheriff’s star.  His face was weathered and had the appearance of a man who had seen the seedier side of life “up close and personal”. His demeanor was “all business” and he wasn’t a “small talk” type of guy. I saw his type within the non-commissioned officer ranks in the Army. The van was tightly packed with beautiful young blond women who stared straight ahead siliently. He approached Dickers and whispered to him. Dickers nodded in agreement, looked towards me and said “this is Gomez, my head of security.” Gomez tipped his hat without saying a word to me, returned to the van and drove off towards the mansion. “Old Gomez is quite an entrepreneur for a wetback. He runs the “AG Transportation” company in town in addition to working for me. Let’s cut the bullshit, son. You attended Technion which is the MIT of Israel and developed high speed oil and gas trading algorithms which kicked my ass in the oil futures market and made your Kike boss Goldfarb a fortune at my expense. How much did he pay you?” Well, Mr. Dickers I was well paid but…Dickers interrupted me and said “this is pristine wild country. You won’t find any shtetls or shuls here my young friend. I’ll lease you the property. I’ll have the lease sent to your agent.” He reached for the shot gun and said “pull” three times in rapid succession hitting each of the targets. He took another sip of the scotch and took a long drag on the cigar and said “Oh, by the way, you’ll be my guest at the “Cattleman’s Ball” on Saturday night. An invitation will be delivered to the cabin. One more thing, I’ve arranged a wildlife tour for you in the morning with one of the best wildlife guides in the State. You’ll need to get the lay of the land if you live here.” The “Exotic Wildlife Tours” SUV which brought me to Dickers reappeared to return me to the cabin and my agent. Neither the driver nor the old cowboy spoke a word as we made the short trip back to my new home. As we arrived, I noticed a note was pinned to the door. The SUV sped off as soon as I closed its door. I opened the note which was from Jess which read “have the tour guide drop you at the “Old Faithful Inn”. I’ll meet you at the front desk at Noon tomorrow. I’ll have the lease, Jess”. I opened the door and prepared to spend my first day in my new home.

I slept like a baby. I climbed out of bed at 6:00 am and was greeted by a beautiful panoramic view of Yellowstone from my loft window. I watched a variety of bird species fly by and spied a moose and heard of deer walk across my front yard. My beautiful morning was suddenly disturbed by a vehicle approaching and a honk of the horn. I threw on my clothes, grabbed my wallet and keys and stepped on to the front porch to find an open air Jeep with a roll bar parked outside. The doors were marked “Exotic Wildlife Tours”. A twenty something, tall, lanky guy with a pony tail stepped out wearing flip flops, cargo shorts, tee shirt, and only a thin vest jacket. He introduced himself as Kyle. My “guide” was more appropriately dressed for the beach. We jumped into the Jeep and headed deep into Yellowstone in search of adventure. The stiff cool breeze reminded me of the winter wind coming off Lake Michigan but didn’t faze my guide. Kyle preferred the dirt roads to the highway snaking through Yellowstone. He drove with a intimate knowledge of each twist and turn through the massive National Park. As we rounded a turn through Yellowstone, Kyle spotted the “AG Transportation” minivan which flashed its lights at us. Kyle said “that’s my gal Sue. She must have returned from a luggage delivery in Cody. I’ll be right back.” Kyle stopped the Jeep and ran over and leaned into speak with Sue. Kyle’s posture as he leaned into speak with Sue was an indication of his infatuation with the sexy married woman. At one point, Kyle attempted to kiss her. Sue tilted her head missing Kyle’s kiss and managed to send me a wink all in one graceful movement. The encounter was brief and Sue headed off down the highway.  Kyle climbed back into the Jeep, started the motor as if frustrated, and resumed our trek. Kyle didn’t ask me any questions which gave me the impression he already knew who I was. I could also tell that he resented me. I was successful, polished, and higher on Dickers “food chain” than he was. Moreover, Kyle realized I could have Sue for the “taking”. Periodically, he would quickly pull to the side of the road, turn off the motor and say “follow me” after slinging a 30 odd 6 rifle around his shoulder and strapping a high pressure can of bear spray to his hip. I followed Kyle closely through the thick woods and could tell Kyle was “at home” within the wilderness and was an expert survivalist. Throughout the morning, Kyle would motion for me to hunch down, point to the horizon, and a beautiful buck would glide past us. Kyle was amazing at spotting wildlife as if he had “eyes in the back of his head” and the acute hearing of a canine. The remainder of the time was spent visiting pristine lakes, waterfalls, and belching sulfuric volcanic pools which permeate Yellowstone. As we headed out of the woods and towards the highway, Kyle said he was aware that he was to deliver me to the Old Faithful Inn but he had to show me one more “sight”. He pulled on to a dirt road and headed towards a rock formation with a cave entrance. We exited the Jeep and walked quietly towards the mouth of the cave. Kyle said “watch and wait”. Within a few minutes the forest became silent. I looked around and Kyle was gone. I heard a growl and a grizzly bear exited the cave, raised its nose to the wind and rose onto its back legs. A pride of bear cubs surrounded the grizzly. I was confronted by a mother bear that smelled my scent. The bear dropped  to all four legs and began walking in my direction. I was frightened to death. I knew that bears could out run humans and mothers protecting their cubs were ferocious. The bear began to pick up its pace. I began to slowly walk backwards but it kept coming closer. I had no weapons or bear spray just my feet. The bear began to gallop towards me. I turned and ran for my life. The faster I ran only infuriated the bear which was gaining ground on me. The jeep suddenly pulled along side of me and Kyle extended his arm and pulled me inside. We raced down the road leaving the bear in our dust. “They don’t call us Exotic Wildlife Tours” for nothing”, Kyle laughed. I was both angry at and grateful to Kyle. A confrontation would get me nowhere but possibly stranded within Yellowstone. Kyle was sending me a message that I was a newcomer to the dangers of Yellowstone and my Army background and financial success wouldn’t keep me safe.

(Continued)