Five Entrances

Part 4 of 4

Sue had settled into the cabin and looked like a happy newlywed. The cabin smelled of a heavenly dinner. Sue ran to greet me with a strong hug and wet sloppy kiss. She was still frightened but felt safe being away from Hank. As I watched Sue “glide” throughout the house completing the duties of a loving woman, I could see her love was wasted on Hank. What a pity! I was happy having Sue under my roof. I also realized that she could make me happy in a domestic life free from worldwide travel, bars, and unfulfilling one night “conquests” for the remainder of my life. I realized this feeling of tranquility was what my parents must have felt having been married for over fifty years. We ate dinner, cuddled on the couch, and watched the beauty of the Yellowstone evening unfold. The living room was dark and lit only by the moonlight and the fire in the potbelly stove. We passionately kissed and moved to the loft. For the second time, I engaged in not only passionate coitus but a loving coupling. It was novel for me and very satisfying. I also realized that I hadn’t been using a condom and Sue was a healthy fertile woman. I didn’t care. I was in love with Sue. What else could I use the trading profit for?

I awoke several times throughout the night happy to find Sue wedged tightly against me. The owls and wolves conducted their nightly concert just outside. Sue and I awoke the next morning in a tight embrace. Sue made me breakfast. I told her to stay inside the cabin and not to leave for any reason. I’d have our plan completed within the next twenty four hours. I raced to the office eager to see the trade unfold and praying Israel would hold the news conference before the close of trading today. I saw the Gulfstream being readied for an imminent take off. As I entered my office, Dickers was already at this desk and holding a conference call with what sounded like his legal team. The mansion sounded like a sorority party gone crazy with teenage girls screaming and running about gathering their possessions as Gomez yelled at them to move more quickly. I suspected the plan was to load the girls on the Gulfstream and return the human “evidence” back to Europe.

 Dickers entered my office and said “I’m shutting down the trading operation effective immediately. Thank you for your service. I trust the trading profits you earned have set you up in fine stead. I’d like you on my plane this evening with the rest of us. Don’t ask questions. Just be there.” But Mr. Dickers, I’ve already traded for the week. “How much did you trade, Ben?” All of it, Mr. Dickers. “How good was your intel, Ben?” The best I ever had. I turned to the trading screen and saw that the price of oil had already surpassed my trade threshold. I turned the flat screen television on and saw the aftermath of a news conference wherein the State of Israel had announced a heightened alert for terrorist attacks within the Strait of Hormuz. The newscast quickly followed with “and this breaking news just in, Israel has denied the request from the Department of Justice to extradite hedge fund billionaire Jonathan Goldfarb to the United States for alleged oil futures manipulation. Department of Justice is offering immunity from prosecution for Goldfarb’s extradition and cooperation” Dickers shouted “that slippery Jew bastard! How much did we make, Ben?” I turned to my trading platform and confirmed a one billion dollar profit had been completed and shouted “one billion dollars”, Mr. Dickers. For the first time ever, I saw Dickers smile like a father witnessing his son’s birth. It didn’t matter to a man like Dickers that he would likely spend years in federal prison and have the money confiscated. Dickers was elated because he won a big trade and Goldfarb was forced to flee to Israel. In the end for men like Dickers, winning is all that matters. I opened my Bank of Israel account which read $250,000,000 and the Treasury Department could never touch it. I knew that I was lucky the State of Israel held the news conference today but I knew better. The State of Israel never did anything by accident.

I knew that time was running out as Dickers expected me on that plane tonight which would likely include my demise. It was also a matter of time before Hank was alerted to Sue’s whereabouts and he came for her. I left the office and dialed the Jackson Lodge from my car hoping to find Maria or Gregory on duty. I was informed that both were “off tonight”. I could phone the Jackson field office for the FBI and alert them but who would believe me? The local Sheriff wouldn’t believe me and likely side with Dickers. I was on my own and was forced to take matters into my own hand. I ran into the cabin to find Sue cooking. Sue, pack a bag we’re leaving tonight, I shouted. “What’s the matter, honey? Leave tonight?” Dickers wants me on the plane with him tonight and I might not return. It’s a matter of time before Hank finds you. We have to go. I ran to the closet and retrieved the Glock and AR15 which convinced Sue I was serious. “Might not return? What do you mean? Where will we, go honey?” I don’t know yet but we have to get out of here and fast. I frantically began loading ammo and a few clothing items in a duffle bag. Sue, are you getting ready? Hurry! I glanced up and Sue was standing over me with a sealed envelope in her shaking hand. “Honey, the other day when you left me at the Jackson Lodge and told me to see Gregory, he gave me this note and told me to give it you when this time came”. I grabbed the envelope from Sue and tore it open to find the following note from Gregory: “when the shit hits the fan, text this number and wait for instructions”. I reached for my sat phone and I texted the number. Within seconds the reply read “Expect timely FBI response. Meet me at Jackson airport for return to Israel pending resolution of matter at hand. Come alone. Text confirmation that you’re in route.” But what about Sue? God damn it! I didn’t have time to convince them I wanted Sue with me or explain the entire story.  I knew it was the right move. If I could get Sue into the hands of the FBI when they show up, she would be safe. I would send for her after I was in Israel and the dust settled. Sue began pouting and mumbling “I don’t know what’s going on Ben, please tell me”. I have a solution, honey but we have to be patient until morning. Go ahead and finish dinner. It will all be ok.

Sue and I ate a wonderful venison stew, finished washing the dishes together, and retreated to the loft where I held her close to me. The evening “ensemble” of wild animals provided our entertainment which was interrupted by a knock at the door. Stay here, Sue. I’ll see who it is. I grabbed the Glock from my duffle bag and carefully approached the front door. I could see that it was Clive and I opened the door carefully. Clive had Jessabelle in tow and was out of breath when he exclaimed “Hank is coming for Sue, Mr. Ben. He is hotter than a hornets’ nest. I thought it necessary to warn you, Mr. Ben”. Thank you, Clive. You better get. We’ll be ok. “Ok, good luck to you Mr. Ben” ,Clive mounted Jessabelle and road off. Clive was truly an “old school cowboy” and clung tightly to the morality and chivalry of the old west. I didn’t want to frighten Sue so I kept the information to myself when Sue asked who was at the front door. Just Clive, honey asking if we needed any firewood. Sue and I went to bed. We were awoken after midnight to a rock breaking a window downstairs and heard Hank shout “Come out of there Sue. Right Now woman! Hey Jew boy, I have a score to settle with you”. Another rock sailed through the loft window which sent shards of glass onto the bed. Sue screamed “leave us alone, Hank. I’m not with you anymore”. The stupid fat bastard was clad only in boxer shorts and his beer belly hung low. Hank lifted his rifle into the air. “The next shot is coming through the window, hear me!” I knew Hank was either drunk beyond reasoning or blind dumb with jealousy and possessiveness. I reached for my AR 15 and fired off three bursts of 223 Remington ammo to send Hank a message I meant business. “I ain’t afraid of you Jew boy, take some of this”. Hank fired through the living room window. Get inside the bathroom in the loft right now, Sue and don’t come out until I tell you. Hurry! Sue ran up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door shut. I could hear her crying. I didn’t have any choice in the matter but to shoot Hank if necessary.

Clive road up and got off Jessabelle. “Listen Hank, this kind of violence ain’t no good for nobody. Now give me that rifle and let’s go home”. The old cowboy pleaded while reaching for Hanks rifle. Hank aimed at the cabin and fired through the front door almost blowing it apart. I took aim at Hank but Clive was just too close and I didn’t want to wound Clive. Hank raised his rifle towards the cabin but Clive grabbed the barrel and forced it towards the ground. Hank jerked it loose from Clive and accidently shot Clive once in the chest. Clive fell silent. Hank pushed me too far and I wanted to avenge Clive and Sue with one fatal head wound but I’d soon be an expatriate on the lam in Israel with a host of SEC charges facing me and I couldn’t add a murder charge to the list. Sue descended the stairs and pleaded with me, “Please don’t kill the dumb bastard. I’d rather see him rot in jail”. A pair of headlights was racing down the dirt driveway and as it passed the cabin I could see Gomez was driving the “AG Transport” van packed with the teenage blond girls. Gomez didn’t attempt to avoid hitting Hank instead clipping Hank’s leg. “No honor amongst thieves I thought to myself” and it didn’t escape me that Dickers could have been hiding on that van. Hank spun around and fell to the ground writhing in pain. He was squealing like a pig and screaming “look what that Jew boy did to your hubby, Sue. I was only trying to defend your honor. Please help me honey, I need you. I think my leg is tore off”. Sue went for the door and said “Ben, we just can’t leave him there”. I pulled Sue away from the door and said wait inside. I heard the sounds of a helicopter, looked outside, and saw it was a FBI helicopter hovering over Dickers landing strip lighting up the tarmac with its spotlight.  I could also see a phalanx of FBI vehicles descend upon the mansion via the main entrance to the property and I knew that it would be just minutes before the FBI had the service entrance to the property and my escape route blocked.  Fortunately for me, as Jess pointed out, the service road looked more like a walking trail than a road on satellite images and maps otherwise the FBI would already have it blocked. I was surprised Jess didn’t report this escape route to the Bureau or maybe he saw this outcome in advance and was sending me a gift “from beyond”.  Hank was crippled by Al and wasn’t going anywhere.  I ran inside to confront Sue. Sue, please listen to me honey. There isn’t any time for explanation. I want you to run as fast as you can to Dickers mansion. Keep your hands above your head until the FBI knows who you are. Tell the FBI Ben wants you to see Special Agent Maria Gonzalez. She will take care of you. Tell Maria that Ben will be in touch with her in due course and to send medical help for Clive and Hank. Go now, run. “When will I see you again, Ben?” Soon, honey. Trust me. Run! Sue dashed towards Dickers mansion and the cadre of FBI surrounding the mansion and the Gulfstream. I loaded my duffle bag with the weapons, ammo, and water. I jumped into the Lambo and texted my departure as instructed. I was careful not to rev the V12 engine and left my lights off so as not to alert the FBI I was leaving. As I drove out of my “piece of heaven” for the last time, I looked over at Clive lying on the sacred soil he revered and lamented the loss of a good man and relic of a bygone era.

The Jackson airport was about fifty miles down Highway 287 and then over to Highway 26 at Moran with a straight shot to the airport. Accounting for twists and turns, the Lambo could make it in about a half an hour. It was dark and the roads through Yellowstone were still unfamiliar to me. As I pulled onto the highway and raced towards the airport, I put my odds at no more than 50/50 that the FBI wouldn’t apprehend before I reached the airport. My mind quickly analyzed the possible outcomes confronting me. First, I was to be arrested simultaneously with Dickers for “show purposes” and if they hadn’t discovered that I profited personally from the last trade completed for Dickers, they wouldn’t pursue me choosing to arrest me later. Secondly, assuming they were aware of my $250,000,000 trading profit outside of the FBI account, they were “pissed off”, humiliated, and they would come for me because high ranking FBI careers would be tarnished forever. Thirdly, it was likely the FAA and TSA were already aware that the long range private jet waiting for me on the Jackson Airport tarmac was expecting “high level diplomatic” passengers who were not to be molested by authorities including the FBI who would be notified immediately by FBI headquarters in Washington not to board the plane or postpone its departure. I’ve always marveled at the irony of disparate inter governmental interests and in my case, counted on it!

The ride down Highway 287 was fast, lonely, and scenic even at night as I passed a variety of topographical and ecosystems which make Yellowstone famous. Jackson Lake was reflecting the full moon like a giant mirror. I was about to transition onto Highway 26 at Moran when I picked up a “tail”. The Lambo was too fast for the vehicle following me which was keeping a sufficient distance behind me so I couldn’t identify the type of car or its driver. It was obvious the driver was very familiar with the roads throughout Yellowstone and was assuming that I would crash at such high speeds and he could finish me off within the wreckage. I had just passed the Jackson Lake Lodge and sped into a long banking left turn when I saw the silhouette of a herd of animals blocking the highway and grazing along side of the road. I slowed and kicked up my high beams which revealed a stubborn heard of Bison. The car following me also began to slow but kept its distance behind me. I honked but the Bison wouldn’t move. I could be waiting all night for the animals to clear the road. I also didn’t want to anger the herd as they have been known to attack vehicles and the Lambo was no match for a herd of Bison. I texted my contact “detained by bison herd at Moran. No joke! Need alternate route!” Within seconds, the return message instructed me to make a U-turn and then an immediate left onto Teton Park Rd. which would only add a mile to the trip and reconnect with Highway 26 at Moose and then a right turn onto Airport Rd. I made the U-Turn and was staring at my “tail” about two miles in front of me. I punched the accelerator, made the left turn, and raced down Teton Park Rd. I saw the “tail” fall in behind me remaining about two miles behind me. I raced through Grand Teton National Park unable to enjoy the beauty surrounding me. Coming into view was Jenny Lake on my right every bit as beautiful as Jackson Lake. To my left were wide open planes where a variety of animals grazed. After I crossed Cottonwood Creek, I flashed my high beams and saw a long stretch of straight road, punched the accelerator, and the Lambo quickly hit 200 mph. The Lambo sucked in the cold fresh air which cooled the elegant V12 performing in virtuoso fashion as its makers in Bolognese intended. I lost my pursuer but didn’t assume for a minute that he had given up. He was biding his time. The road banked right at Taggart Creek and the Lambo hugged the road as the road immediately straightened just in time for me to confront another heard of Bison who came upon me so fast I couldn’t break in time to avoiding hitting them. This herd was so thick and each of the Bison so massive I’d likely be killed when plowing through them with the remainder stampeding me to death if I survived.  I hit the brakes but could only avoid hitting the heard by swerving off the narrow road and into the woods. I turned directly into the woods and prayed for survival. The branches snapped and scraped the Lambo’s sleek finish as I plummeted like a bullet through the dark forest propelled by the sleek aerodynamic lines of the car. One branch after another slowed my car which eventually stopped and cradled by the green leafy “arms “of a tree. I didn’t expect a car so light and fast to be built to strong. If I survived this ordeal, the car manufacturer in Bolognese would receive a sincere thank you as I’m certain the car saved my life. I’m breathing heavily and my head is bleeding from breaking the windshield. I can hear the vehicle that was following me pull up alongside the highway, the engine silenced, and it’s occupant is walking towards me  I’m dizzy, nauseous, and suddenly there is darkness and silence.

There are five entrances to Yellowstone. I’m hoping to find one way out.