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Offshore Islands

Page 16

by John Francis Kinsella

Well Sean, as you know from your visit over the last days, our job here is to develop industry and attract foreign investment to Ireland. I won’t bullshit you with all of the success stories that you can read in the press and see on the TV, that’s not my job,” said Mulligan seriously, “the situation has not always been easy, though with the present economic boom it’s the right moment to invest.”

  Kavanagh nodded, he was well aware of the past never-ending Irish economic crises.

  “Foreign firms could pull out,” Mulligan continued, “if there was a crisis for example on the stock market or a recession, the money and efforts that we have poured in would go right down the drain!”

  Kavanagh put on a concerned look of sympathy and understanding, it was not too difficult. Ireland and its economic problems had been a long story. The Irish problem was geographical, he thought, God had simply put the island in the wrong place. It was unfortunately impossible to pull up the anchor and head one thousand miles or so in a south-easterly direction.

  His grandfather and father had recounted the woes until Kavanagh had come to despise their national lack of fortune. He had learnt that the legendary lucky Irishman was the one who had bought a ticket to America. Sure there were the gentry and the great landowners, the Guinness’s and Smurfit’s, they could fly off to London, New York or the sunshine of the Bahamas when things got bad. But for the rest there was the constant fear of unemployment and debt, which had haunted them for centuries with the breaking up of families by forced immigration.

  The Celtic ‘tiger economy’ with annual growth rates of as much as ten percent had improved to a previously unimaginable degree the lot of most Irish families. They had reached a standard of living equal to that of Germany, triumphantly cried the press. Perhaps things had finally changed with Ireland’s membership of the European Union.

  The reality, however, was that the Euro exchange rate against the dollar favoured investment in Ireland, as did lower salaries and social charges. The probability was that situation would change with the return of immigrants wanting higher salaries and better conditions, or with on the other hand a turndown in the American economy.

  Kavanagh had seen the real poor in Limerick and Dublin, in proportions that could only been seen in Eastern Europe. They were a permanent part of the Irish social scene, the church needed them and good Irish mothers needed them, pointing them to their children; tinkers, as they were often called when they were driven to extreme poverty and homelessness.

  “People like you could help us in areas where we have little experience,” said Mulligan.

  “Oh! What are those then? said Kavanagh a little coolly.

  “International services.”

  “International services!”

  “Yes, it’s an area where you have been successful Sean.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m not really intending to branch out,” said Kavanagh, perhaps a little too quickly.

  “Don’t worry about that Sean, we can provide a lot of backup, and you could think of it as additional consultancy business.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it Sean, we have people, qualified people, plenty of them, but you could say we need pathfinders, guides if you like...you could be one of those.”

  “It’s unexpected, I’m flattered, but really I have to think about it, give me some time.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Pat here knows the background, he’ll fill you in on the details.”

  The two left Mulligan’s office and Kennedy had difficulty in restrain his glee. Once in the car he let go.

  “There, I told you Sean, we’ve got him. He’ll give you everything we want.”

  “What’s next then,” asked Kavanagh, who was pleased with the result. They had drawn Mulligan out by playing low key, displaying only a mild interest in his proposals.

  “We’ll put together a business plan, that’s the usual way to do it. We’ll have to be quick though so as not to lose time, the NIB can be slow, but in this case we’ll have no problem pushing them.”

  Chapter 17

  Castlemain in Cuba

 

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