Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick (18 page)

She smiled broadly at him. ‘This is a lovely hotel.’

He agreed. ‘You’re quite right, madam. Our best suite has been specially prepared for you. It overlooks the lake and gives you a clear view of the twelve Bens mountain range. Brother Sean here will show you to your suite.’ He departed for the gardens.

She smiled, admiring Brother Sean’s youthful figure, as he picked up her bag.

‘An order of monks running a luxury hotel? Isn’t that unusual?’

He grinned. ‘As great Abbot Meskedra always said, Madam; did not the good Lord feed the hungry?’

She smiled mischievously. ‘So he did, but he didn’t provide any booze.’

‘Ah, but he did, madam, at Cana.’ He was about to say, ‘He had them falling all around the place, pissed out of their minds.’ Instead he said, ‘didn’t he change the water into wine; very good wine too.’

She changed the subject.

‘Please call me Judith. Maybe you can help me. My ancestors emigrated from hereabouts to California; I’m here to trace my roots.’

He grinned. ‘When you’re ready I’ll arrange a taxi to take you to the records office in Galway.’

‘You’re most helpful, but first I want to wander around this beautiful valley and soak up the atmosphere.’

Check in completed, Brother Sean led the way.

‘I’ll show you to your suite, madam.’

Judith closed the door firmly after Sean departed; looked around the luxury suite and then picked up the phone. She dialled long distance. When the phone was answered, she spoke crisply.

‘I’ve arrived. Start sending out the offers. I’ll set things up here.’ She hung up smiling.

Dandaboy, unseen, sitting quietly on a comfortable armchair, was puzzled. Judith undressed quickly and entered the shower. It cannot be said that Dandaboy suffers from bad thoughts, whatever they may be.

*

M
ichael Havlec walked briskly off the Moscow flight in Heathrow, closely followed by his two minders, and made his way to the outside car park where his chauffeur awaited him. The CEO of Oko Oil was impatient; the talks in Moscow hadn’t produced the results he wanted; he would have to use his slush fund again.

The Rolls Royce eased down the M4 on its way to his apartment in Park Lane; Sue, his beautiful mistress, would be waiting for him there. He rang his wife. He would join her and his two daughters at the weekend.

A man of immense charm and good humour (on the surface) the tall handsome, Saville Row suited executive, mixed with prime ministers and government leaders wherever Oko traded throughout the world. He was always available for TV appearances; recently engaged a public relations expert and expected to appear in the New Year’s honours list.

Oko Oil, number five in the world, was very profitable; its share price held firm around $500. He planned a number of takeovers that would bring it further up the league table. There were one or two problems; nothing he couldn’t handle. Finding new fields was becoming more difficult and expensive. He had already taken steps to take care of the dissidents in Achill.

He was the only son of a British engineer who spent much of his career in Kirkuk, in Iraq. His mother, Natasha, daughter of a local chieftain, was a nurse who worked in the local hospital. She travelled to London with him when he was seven, enrolled him in a private school and visited him twice a year.

Never left short of money, he cultivated a lifestyle that brought him into contact with the in set. He trained as an engineer, took a first at Oxford and went to work for PB, the largest oil company in the world. Ten years later he moved to Oko as deputy CEO.

Hugh Weston, Oko CEO, an old fashioned oil man, survivor of a generation long gone, built the company from a single well in Texas to an international company with fifty wells in twenty countries. In his sixties, he lived with his second wife June, in their mansion in Kent and alternated between their holiday homes in Florida and Marbella. His son, Jack, worked as an accountant for another oil company.

When Michael Havlec became Hugh Weston’s deputy, he set his sights on the top job. Popular as Weston was with the shareholders and the staff, Havlec believed the company needed a more dynamic CEO; someone like himself. In the normal course of events, he could expect to succeed Hugh Weston when he retired, but he was a man in a hurry.

He ingratiated himself with the board members and quietly spread the word that the old man was past it. All he needed was the right opportunity and this he found in the Achill oil fields. Weston spent years trying to appease the locals and, given a bit more time, might have persuaded them to accept a compromise scheme.

Michael Havlec’s approach was, to hell with the locals, we’ll enforce our rights under the concession, in court. The board sided with him and Hugh Weston was sidelined; he retired in disgust. Proceedings were issued and the case would shortly come up for hearing in the Galway Supreme Court. Achill, according to the survey reports, had 160 billion barrels of high quality crude. With this well up and running, he would use the increased revenue to boost the shares, add to his existing ten million options and hit the takeover trail.

His philosophy was a simple one: there are those who are born to rule and all others.

*

T
he arrival of Wesley Harding at Turla Lodge attracted little interest; he travelled from Clifden Airport by taxi. Wesley, a little old man with grey hair and rugged features spoke with a middle class English accent, but his eyes were very alert. Brother Brendan, in charge of reception, thought he was under dressed for a hotel of this standard. He had to remind himself that the order was a somewhat Christian one.

Wesley was self effacing and didn’t mix with the other guests. On days when he didn’t take a taxi to Conna or Galway, he sat by the lake and appeared to be asleep half the time. In the evenings, he made long distance phone calls but rarely received any. He melted into the background, so much so that he escaped Dandaboy’s attention.

Showing an interest in deep sea fishing, he was put in touch with the firm of Hurley’s, the trawler people in Westport. Twice a week, he sailed with them out into the Atlantic and visited most of the off shore islands. But he didn’t appear to be interested in deep sea fishing. He never went near Achill. Could this quietly spoken visitor be working for the oil company?

*

K
nowing Ulick would be calling, Nodie went into Galway for a hairdo, bought a new pink summer dress and updated her cosmetic box; she realised that since John was born she hadn’t taken enough interest in her appearance. Returning, she gave John a bath and dressed him up in his new blue tee shirt and tan trousers. Ester was given the afternoon off. Nodie tidied up the house.

She knew she was behaving like a teenager, but couldn’t help it; it would be lovely to see Ulick again although there was no way they could pick up where they left off. Shortly after she left Galway, she found she was pregnant with John; she was so excited, she wanted to rush back to him. Then, she learned he had another lover, Ella, who was young and beautiful; she couldn’t interfere with his happiness. It was ironic; while they were together she so wanted to have his baby; on their last night together she became pregnant.

What cannot be cannot be. She concentrated on her pregnancy and getting used to her work on the bench; so delighted when her baby was born, determined to be a good mother. She would have liked to christen him Ulick but that wasn’t possible; instead she called him John, after Ulick’s father, who gave her her first job.

Ulick called as promised at four o’clock; she dreaded this moment. There he stood at her front door, smiling broadly; he hugged her briefly, then stood back and took a good look at her.

‘Nodie, you’re so beautiful. Welcome home.’

She blushed and put her hand on John’s shoulder as he came forward.

‘It’s lovely to see you again Ulick; this is my little boy, John.’

Ulick went down on one knee and put out his hand.

‘You’re a fine young man; I’m Ulick.’

John shook hands with him and then went off to play.

Nodie looked him over. ‘You haven’t changed a bit. Come into the living room and I’ll make the tea.’ She paused. ‘Or would you prefer something stronger?’

She led the way; he grinned.

‘Tea would be lovely. I missed you. It’s great to see you back home.’

She smiled. ‘I didn’t realise how much I missed Connemara until I returned.’

She put him sitting in a deep armchair and left to make the tea.

Left alone, his brow knitted. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Could it be? No, it wasn’t possible or was it? That lovely little boy looked like a Connemara man. Maybe it was his imagination. She was the same lovely, gentle Nodie that he loved all those years ago; a bit more poised and confident now.

Nodie returned with a tray and proceeded to pour the tea.

‘How are you settling in to your new job?’ he inquired.

‘It’s very interesting and can be challenging; few cases get as far as the Supreme Court.’

‘You have a really contentious one coming up—the Oko Oil case. I’ll be appearing for the people of Achill, so we can’t talk about it.’

She grimaced. ‘Moxy is objecting to you appearing before me.’

He stood up. ‘That bastard hasn’t changed anyway.’

she grinned. ‘That would be too much to expect.’

He returned home in a thoughtful mood.

*

U
lick drove into Galway for the Harny case in the High Court; parking his car in a city car park, he walked through the alleyway to Ella’s restaurant. She hadn’t been home for the past week; they hadn’t talked for days. It was understandable, she was busy getting her new venture up and going and, after a long day’s work, it was more convenient to walk the short distance to her apartment.

She kissed him briefly and led him to a table.

‘What has you in town so early?’ she asked.

‘I’m on my way to the High Court.’

‘Let me get you a good breakfast.’

She waved to one of her girls and ordered a full Irish.

‘You’ll be staying the night with me then?’

‘Not tonight, love. Frankie is meeting me in the Ardilaun bar for a few drinks. He’s got something on his mind that won’t wait.’ He paused. ‘Why don’t you join us? You could stay with me.’

She considered it. ‘We have a lot of bookings for tonight; I’ll join you if I can get out of here in time.’

His breakfast was served.

*

A
nnie Clarke sat with him and their client, in the old stone courthouse, beside the Salmon Weir bridge, while the plaintiff’s case was pleaded by Mattie Hynes from Tuam. Ulick was bored. What the hell are we doing here? It’s a bloody waste of time. Why didn’t the stupid bitch settle when she was told to? Another two days wasted. I could be in Dublin doing my research for the Oko case. Even the judge is looking bored.

When the court adjourned for the day, he drove out to the Ardilaun hotel, checked in and had a drink in the bar. Annie joined him, a different Annie to the demure little woman who sat beside him in the court. Dressed in a low cut black dress, she had just returned from the hotel hairdressing saloon. He ordered her usual—a Gin and Tonic.

‘How do you think we’re doing?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Don’t ask. I think we should dine early; Frankie is coming out to have a few drinks with me.’

She concealed her disappointment. ‘Whatever you say, Ulick.’

It was the first time she called him by name.

*

A
fter dinner, Annie retired to her room while Ulick met Frankie in the bar; he ordered two pints and they sat in a secluded corner. As was normal, no one in the crowded bar passed any heed of them. Frankie always moved around like a normal citizen and nearly burst a gasket when Chief Super, Tom Lally, tried to persuade him to have a body guard. The super came up with his own solution; he had Frankie tailed at all times, but he didn’t know that.

Frankie put down his glass. ‘I had a visit yesterday from Admiral John O’Flaherty of our navel service. There’s an American battle cruiser anchored west of Clifden. I sent for the ambassador and demanded to know what it was doing there. He told me it was outside the three mile limit and perfectly entitled to be there. I told him all USE states have a 200 mile coastal limit and to get his ship out of there. I also told him to stop flying spy planes over Connemara.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He told me, I’m not taking into account the seriousness of their problem. If another country gets their hands on this rocket, it would be disastrous for world peace. He’ll make no changes and when the rocket is found, marines will be sent ashore to recover it. Naturally, he’d like to work with us.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I told him to fuck off; we are a sovereign independent state; I would advise the USE and, if necessary, go public. He begged me not to; America’s enemies would send in their spies.’ He paused. ‘I told him they’re already here. What do you think we should do?’

Ulick was silent for a moment.

‘Someone knows where this rocket is and I think know who that is. The big question, Frankie, is, when we get it, do we give it to the Americans?’

‘No fucking way.’

*

J
udith Crosweller hired a taxi every morning and spent her days touring Connemara. She would inquire casually from her drivers or in pubs where she snacked; did anyone near the massive explosion a couple of months ago? Everyone seemed to have heard it; and had a different version of where it occurred.

Then, one morning she took a taxi into Galway city and had coffee in Ella’s. Dandaboy tagged along. She entered the ladies room. Now, Dandaboy didn’t go in there; he’d not do that. When she emerged, he shook his head in wonder. She went in a blonde in a beige dress; came out a brunette in a black tee shirt over grey slacks, with a floppy hat that partially covered her face. Were it not for the pungent perfume she could have walked right past him unnoticed.

Interesting, he thought, as he followed her down Shop Street. Entering the Lynch Bank she purchased the keys to three safe deposit boxes. Left alone, she took three thick packages from her bag and deposited one in each box. She put the keys carefully in her handbag. Then, she returned to the ladies room in Ella’s and changed back into her original clothes, before taking a taxi back to Turla. What’s going on here, Dandaboy wondered.