Kennedy’s secretary had booked him into the Shelbourne Hotel facing St Stephens Green in Dublin. It was slightly run down in a kind of worn out way, with Victorian comforts, but it was practical and he had no desire to tempt fate at the Conrad.
It was an easy walk down Grafton Street to the bank, he checked his watch, it was eleven forty five, he took his time as there was no hurry, the weather was fine and warm for the first time since he had stepped off the plane in Shannon; the summer had finally seemed to have arrived in Ireland.
Castlemain’s office was at the bank’s headquarters, an imposing modern building with a polished granite facade and smoked glass windows, facing Trinity College on College Green. It was a contrast to the grim dilapidated nearby back streets. His immediate thoughts, as he admired the building, were that they must be making money, but on second thoughts, he considered the possibility that they had loaned themselves their customers deposits.
He was carefully examined by the receptionist, who after checking with the chairman’s personal assistant directed him to the eighth floor. He was met as he stepped out of the lift and guided to Castlemain’s office.
“Hello Mr Arrowsmith, how nice to meet you.”
Castlemain was quite unlike he had expected, he looked younger than his age, tall and well built, but very slightly stooped and a little bookish looking, at a guess in his mid-fifties. His face was lightly tanned and he wore a soft friendly smile.
“Please sit down Mr Arrowsmith, you wouldn’t mind if I called you Tony,” Arrowsmith nodded his agreement, “good, what would you like tea or coffee?”
He wore a dark blue pin stripped suit and a regimental or college tie. He leaned back in his chair relaxed, he was the result of good breeding and education, he spoke with a touch of an English public school accent. In front of him lay just a single folder which his middle-aged secretary took as she left the office.
“Well are you enjoying your stay in Ireland?”
“Fine, makes a nice change from Paris,” said Arrowsmith politely.
“A little bit quiet I would imagine,” he smiled. There was a pause, “So you met Paddy?”
“Yes, a nice chap, we had a long talk together.”
"Good, I understand he outlined the NIB’s programme for attracting international services and industries to Ireland.”
“That’s correct.”
“As you know then Tony, over the years we have supported the NIB’s programme with banking facilities for investors, with of course our interests always in mind, we’re a private bank, we don’t have any special cause other than the well being of our shareholders,” he smiled. “That in mind we do believe there is a big potential here in Ireland for investors, however, our problem is not money but having the right people!”
He looked like he believed what he said, it was approximately the same line that Arrowsmith had heard over the previous few days in Limerick, it was company talk, as if Ireland was one big company and they were all toeing the company line with minor variations.
“My good friend Andrew Doyle, the Minister of Labour, put it nicely the other day, he said, ‘it’s like horses, when you find a winner, then put your money on it’.”
Arrowsmith smiled and nodded, feigning interest, in a couple of hours or so he would be on his way back to Paris and away from the amusing interlude in the make believe world of shamrock and grand ideas.
“According to what I’ve heard Tony you’re one of those people who have the knowledge and experience that is needed for the kind of business we are examining in Cuba.” He flattered Arrowsmith.
“As I said we’re prepared to back the kind of people who have talent.”
Arrowsmith was unimpressed he had no need for backing and at his age he needed no Boy Scout pep talks.
“Listen Tony, why don’t you consider setting up a project development company in your field over here in Ireland?”
“I’ll think about it David, it sounds interesting,” said Arrowsmith whilst thinking to himself almost the opposite.
“Good let’s have some lunch then.”
They walked up to the Dail, the seat of the Irish parliament, an unimposing building. The sky had clouded over and it looked like they might have a shower. The weather changed so dam quick it was unbelievable, he thought to himself. They turned into a smart looking side street where Castlemain led Arrowsmith into the Irish Pen Club.
It was evident that Castlemain was a much-considered regular; they were shown to a discrete corner table with great fuss and deference. The style reminded Arrowsmith of an updated Sherlock Holmes setting, less cluttered and brighter, but nevertheless very Pen Club.
Chapter 12
An Interview
Offshore Islands Page 11