Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick

by James Kilcullen

  Over time, it had been contested in the Circuit and High Court. Oko won on each occasion. The people of Achill were now appealing to the highest court in the land. Nodie would have to decide the issue; unaware, as she was, that Judge Watson had artfully passed this poison chalice to her.

  She suddenly became aware she wasn’t alone; Dandaboy was standing nearby smiling at her.

  ‘Dandaboy, it’s lovely to see you again; you have often been in my thoughts.’

  ‘I miss you, Nodie; you have a lovely little boy.’

  John was nearly as tall as him. Seeing Dandaboy, he raced over to them.

  Nodie took him by the hand; Dandaboy grinned.

  ‘John, love, this is Dan -da—boy, an old friend.’

  Dandaboy looked closely at this beautiful child. John held out his hand.

  ‘You small man; funny suit.’

  Nodie exploded in laughter.

  Dandaboy was wearing his green tee shirt over red trousers.

  ‘Me small man,’ he grinned. ‘Funny dress.’

  ‘Will you play with me?’

  Dandaboy grinned. ‘We play games—look.’

  He disappeared.

  ‘Where he go Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know love.’

  Dandaboy reappeared from behind her, smiling.’

  ‘Here I am.’

  John looked puzzled. ‘Funny little man. How you do that?’

  ‘Some day I show you.’

  Nodie asked the inevitable question.

  ‘How is Ulick?’

  ‘He miss you.’

  ‘But he has a lovely new girlfriend?’

  ‘He miss you.’

  It suddenly occurred to Nodie.

  ‘Has Ulick still got Setanta?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘What Stanta Mum?’ John asked.

  ‘He’s a lovely big dog.’ She turned to Dandaboy.

  ‘Will you bring him to see us?’

  ‘I will.’

  With that Ester appeared in the distance. Dandaboy disappeared.

  ‘Where he go Mum?’

  She smiled shaking her head. ‘I don’t know, love.’

  ‘He my friend—funny little man.’

  *

  The Secret Service treated them like criminals. Jake Huston bore the brunt of it. So far as they were concerned it was all his fault. Why didn’t he have a copy of the plans? Surely he should have suspected that Professor Yang was selling out to the enemy? Was he in it too? Why could he not make another missile from the information to hand?

  He still smarted from the three lengthy interrogations he received from a smart arsed FBI officer with a Texas accent. Who did that bastard think he was? Jake’s apartment was searched; his bank account scrutinised; his mistress questioned. They kept at him for weeks. He had to know what his boss was up to. They would not accept that Professor Yang committed suicide. Someone had the plans; he should have a copy if he wasn’t involved in the sell out.

  A doctor friend in LA told him that John Yang died from a single shot to the head; the gun was found beside his body. It had all the hallmarks of suicide. He also told him Yang was suffering from an inoperable brain tumour. His interrogators told him nothing. He began to think he might as well be guilty.

  His request for retirement was refused. With a secret service agent, Herb Onslow, acting as his “bodyguard” he was dispatched to Galway and took up residence in Turla Lodge Hotel in Maam Valley. He, apparently, was the only one who could identify the rocket. He followed up all sighting reports and soon came to the conclusion this was a waste of time. He didn’t share his views with his “bodyguard.”

  *

  The Oko Oil Company was represented by none other than Moxy O’Shea, the country’s one time Taoiseach and former USE commissioner. He had the brass balls to return to Galway when his term in Brussels ended, but not to national politics; he set up his own legal practice with an office in Eyre Square and, using his old contacts, was quite successful.

  Frankie Carney was particularly concerned about the outcome of this case; if the people won: fine. If they didn’t he would have to watch an external oil company make billions while the state got a mere one per cent. If he passed a law cancelling the concession, the state would be sued for billions, probably, successfully. His one hope; Ulick Joyc was acting for the people of Achill.

  Oko was determined to win. As Frankie understood it, Moxy O’Shea, knowing the incumbent Supreme Court judge, Andy Ryan, had persuaded him to retire early; the oil company would have no chance in his court. Then, he contrived to have Jack Malarkey’s name put forward for the vacancy; Jack, from Roscommon, a former member of his party, had no time for Frankie Carney or Ulick Joyc. That would guarantee a win for Oko and the settling of old scores.

  Malarkey’s appointment required the approval of the Taoiseach; no way was that forthcoming. But Frankie had to find someone fit for such a high office; someone he could trust. He learned that Nodie was now a judge of the Supreme Court in Dublin and very highly regarded by the legal profession. He invited her to come to Galway to discuss the matter with him. She readily agreed to be appointed a judge of the Hi-Brazil Supreme Court in Galway.

  *

  Annie Clarke had a long session with Ms Harny and recommended she proceed with the case in the High Court. The decision made, she put it down for hearing in Galway and asked Ulick to put it in his diary. It was time to make her move. She lunched every day in Ella’s restaurant—until she moved into Galway—and became very friendly with her. Ella confided in her; things between herself and Ulick were becoming strained and she didn’t know what to do. Annie was very sympathetic, but didn’t offer any advice. It was very simple; she wanted Ulick and she was going to have him.

  *

  Turla Lodge Hotel, in the heart of Maam valley, was doing a thriving business; it was now world famous; they came from all corners of the world to see the Lough Corrib monster. No one saw him, but that didn’t matter; anticipation is just as exciting as realisation. Scientists, artists, writers, scuba divers, film producers, con artists and fishermen: you name it; they were all there.

  Such was the demand for accommodation that Lurglurg, the humble Abbot of the Fathers of the Brothers, after a titanic struggle with his Christian conscience, decided to increase his charges. They still kept coming. He ran a shuttle bus to Galway International airport at Oranmore and used the same bus to take his guests to Maam Bridge, every night, for the midnight monster boat cruise.

  Lurglurg, Abbot of the order of the Fathers of the Brothers, finished his Brandy and, to show his humility, took charge of reception. A black limo pulled up outside and deposited a young lady. A tall, shapely blue eyed blonde, entered and approached reception. She placed her bag at her feet.

  ‘Welcome to Turla, madam,’ Lurglurg tried his welcoming smile which, at the best of times, wasn’t overly exciting.

  He placed the register before her. She registered as Judith Crosweller from Santa Barbara, California; occupation, film producer. She looked about her casually while Lurglurg inspected her style; a light cream designer suit with a low cut blouse that didn’t leave much to the imagination. And her jewellery must have cost a fortune. It’s just as well that, in this order, bad thoughts are not a sin. His own variable vow of chastity was safe enough; he was always nervous of the fair sex, but he had serious doubts about Brother Mungo.

  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 mischi
evously. ‘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.

  *

  Michael 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.

  *

  The 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?

  *

  Knowing 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.

  *

  Ulick 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.