Pat Kennedy had invited Tony Arrowsmith over to Ireland, to visit the old country, as he had put it. It had been nearing Easter when he had decided to pass through Paris for the holiday weekend returning from one of his frequent trips to Amsterdam. His wife Susan had planned to spend the holy weekend with the Sisters of Mercy in a convent at Clonmel, leaving Pat to fend for himself.
Out of the blue Pat had called Tony, who figured that he must have got his number from one of the family in London, since Arrowsmith had been listed ex-directory ever since he had moved to Paris from London.
Kennedy had never visited France before having given it a wide berth; it was not that he was unattracted to the country, but more the fact that he was afraid of the legendary difficulties that foreigners encountered not being able to speak the language.
Pat Kennedy’s uncle, Thomas Arrowsmith, had boasted in London of his son Tony who had built up a successful business in Paris as a consultant and of his extensive travels overseas. Armed with that information and a telephone number, Pat had checked into the luxury Crillon Hotel on Place de la Concorde in Paris after being severely overcharged by a Parisian taxi driver, who knew a sucker when he saw one.
It had been at least twenty years since Tony Arrowsmith had last met Pat, who must have been ten or eleven years old at the time. Pat had been an only child held on a tight rein by his mother, who was determined he would be somebody in life, whether he liked it or not. He had been put through a boarding school run by the Christian Brothers who had a reputation for discipline and severity. He then went on to study law at Trinity College, Dublin.
In that sense his parents had been successful. Pat Kennedy’s hard work driven by the fear of his parents had resulted in a first class honours degree. He then spent three years as an articled clerk with an old and prominent Dublin law firm specialised in company litigation and taxation.
They were associated with a Bostonian firm, where Kennedy spent another year after having completed his articles. Seven years later Kennedy became a junior partner in the Dublin firm and set up a branch of the practice in Limerick City, where the business opportunities were steadily growing with the foreign companies, which were encouraged to invest in setting up operations in the region. The incentives were part of a promotional scheme run by one of the government-sponsored organisations created for that purpose, the National Investment Board. Three years later he was rewarded and made a full partner of the firm.
Arrowsmith had invited Kennedy to dinner in Paris; he could not have refused, after all Kennedy was his cousin. He was curious to see how he had turned out, having heard of his achievements, his rise to partnership in the law firm.
They had dinned at Chez Pierre in the Latin Quarter, a small expensive restaurant, frequented mostly by Parisians, often with their overseas visitors, but also a sprinkling of up-market tourists. It had a certain fifties air about it, the waiters in white aprons over black trousers with waistcoats and bow ties. The food was excellent, traditional French cuisine, which had the advantage of pleasing the visitors and their French hosts alike.
They had exchanged family news and childhood memories. Arrowsmith was ten years older than Kennedy and could with honesty to himself only vaguely remember him as a spoilt kid, whom his brother had slyly thumped on more than couple of occasions.
“You know Tony, Shannon has become one of the main centres of attraction for foreign investment in Ireland,” Kennedy told him enthusiastically.
“Really,” replied Arrowsmith. It was strictly speaking of no great interest to him. He considered Irish business at best as thoroughbred horses and at the worst provincial grain merchants shouting over large glasses of Guinness in country pubs on market days. But Kennedy was insistent he was a born salesman, his enthusiasm bubbled over and he was either too thick skinned or plain dumb not to see Arrowsmith’s indifference, who listened in polite amusement to the stories to pass the evening.
“You know Tony the NIB, that’s the National Investment Board, offers incredible financial assistance to attract new businesses into the country.”
“Is that so.”
“Yesh, they give grants of up to 100% in certain cases.”
“100%!” exclaimed Arrowsmith with genuine surprise.
“Yesh, 100% plus the building and land.”
“Plus the building and land!” said Arrowsmith in mock astonishment, realising the absurdity of Kennedy’s story.
“That’s right,” replied Kennedy with a look of naive surprise at the idea that Arrowsmith could think that it was anything else but the truth.
“That’s quite extraordinary,” Arrowsmith replied absently as he looked at his Sole Meunière with relish, it was a welcome diversion from Kennedy’s hard sell.
Kennedy finally getting the message changed the subject.
“So how’s your business Tony, I’ve heard you’ve been successful.”
“Well modestly so, you know steady, I suppose I can say that I’m happy, content, it gives me a decent living.”
“Where’s your office.”
“Avenue Franklin Roosevelt, you know just off the Champs Elysee.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yes it’s not bad.”
“I believe you’re a consultant.”
"Yes that’s right, I’m an industrial consultant.
“That’s interesting, what kind of industry?”
“Oh, a little bit of everything, mostly construction industry, mainly from South East Asia, South America. I advise companies who want to set up in those countries, or bid for major projects anything from bridges to hotels.
“You mean European firms who want to get out there.”
“That’s right.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“What about you Pat, I understand you haven’t been idle.”
“Well it’s a little staid compared to your business, you know company litigation and taxation. The only interesting point is that you could say I’m broadening out, attracting foreign investment into Shannon.”
Pat enthusiastically invited Arrowsmith to Limerick to revisit the old country and meet the family again, take a short holiday. In spite of Kennedy’s insistence on business the idea appealed to Arrowsmith. Pat could show him around in style. He was drawn by his childhood memories and curious to see if anything remained of them.
It would certainly not be a business trip; in any case the idea of expanding his business was furthest from his preoccupations. The Swiss trust that he had set up functioned perfectly, there was no reason to make life complicated by creating new work and obligations.
Pat managed to enjoy his dinner, he felt that he had convinced his cousin, Tony, to pay him a visit, in the meantime the atmosphere of Paris excited him and he decided to get to know a little more about France.
In spite of his success he had never really managed to get away from Ireland and its stifling provincial atmosphere, his only serious sojourn abroad had been in Boston, where he had been laughed at for his Irish accent and his unworldliness.
It had only been recently in his dealings with continental businesses that he had developed a taste for foreign travel and had started to spread his wings. He was however handicapped by his lack of languages and experience outside of his narrow professional world.
Pat was a fish in an uncomfortably small pond; he desperately wanted to become bigger fish. He was driven by a force that he did not understand, in fact he did not even realise it, let alone understand it. It had been drummed into him as a child to constantly seek to better himself, in his work, in his relations with friends and acquaintances, even his girl friends, and the need to push ahead had become ingrained into his very being.
His mother had closely supervised his meetings with the opposite sex, seeking a suitable match. She had approved his meeting with Susan Butler, the daughter of a wealthy landowner and gentleman farmer, an old Anglo-Irish family. It was an ideal match, a young and successful lawyer and the daughter of a wealthy fami
ly, the local society event of the season.
Regretfully after five years of marriage there were no children...a tragedy for a good catholic Irish family. The women of the family prayed for them and the men bowed their heads in embarrassment, hinting to Pat to get on with it, with the crude analogies worthy of farm hands. Soon there were whispers and gradually the young couple drew apart pursuing their own individual interests to compensate for the family life that their large house lacked.
Kennedy’s business took him to Amsterdam for a Dutch electronics firm in difficulties with an assemble plant in Shannon. There he discovered the red light district and after studying it at a distance he looked a little closer and discovered its illicit pleasure and a world he had never suspected existed.
Pat was attracted like a moth to the flame and on every possible occasion found a suitable excuse to visit his Dutch clients in Amsterdam. His new secret life excited him and he decided to explore further afield, Hamburg and Frankfurt, he had no great problem finding his way around, everybody spoke English.
He was naturally a very talkative person striking up conversation with other travellers he met, almost anywhere, in planes, in hotel bars and in exhibitions and conferences, which he discovered were a mine for making new acquaintances. He experimented his ideas by describing the attractive conditions offered by the NIB, whose role was to develop industry and international services in the country that then desperately needed jobs and investment.
He was persuasive and actually succeeded in bringing investors to Shannon. However, the problem was that they did not need him except for his services as legal counsel, and that aspect did not satisfy his craving to get more involved, he wanted to go further and he was frustrated in his efforts and through his lack of success.
Pat was not really a very imaginative person beyond his own limited sphere of experience, though he was exceptionally thick skinned and persistent, and not easily discouraged from believing that a golden opportunity was almost certainly waiting around the next corner. He had an out of the ordinary tenacity and followed up every real or imagined prospect until it was sucked dry of any potential.
Chapter 10
Free Money
Offshore Islands Page 9