Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick

by James Kilcullen

  ‘Can you enlighten us, Mr Joyc?’

  ‘I can, Mi Lady. Please turn to page 132 which clearly states that any mining or mineral concession granted by a member state must be activated within five years of the date of issue. Oko oil has failed to meet that deadline, which expired two weeks ago. I now ask the court to cancel the concession and award costs to my clients.’

  Nodie couldn’t believe it; she read and reread the section trying to conceal her joy. Now she knew why he was playing the old soldier. She noticed that Frankie had entered the chamber, accompanied by a number of journalists. Moxy was keeping very quiet. She put down the document and addressed the court.

  ‘The overriding authority of the EU Directive puts an entirely different perspective on this case. It is my decision that the Oko case must fail because it did not comply with the time scale required by the Directive. I’m awarding costs to the defendants. This court is now adjourned.’

  There was a roar of approval from the back of the court. Frankie came forward and shook Ulick by the hand while cameras clicked and reporters sought his attention. Moxy congratulated him and withdrew quietly.

  Nodie couldn’t show her feelings in open court; returning to her chambers she threw off her robe and cried tears of joy.

  *

  Ulick was leaving the courthouse, to the cheers of the large crowd, when an Oldish looking man approached him. Ulick remembered seeing him before; he was one of those who occasionally attended the court.

  ‘Mr Joyc,’ he had to shout, ‘Congratulations. I would like to talk to you and the Taoiseach.’

  ‘Certainly, but we can’t talk here. Will you make an appointment and come to my office in Conna.’

  ‘This needs to be today. I think you will both like what I have to say.’

  ‘All right. Wait until we get clear of this crowd and I’ll take you around to Frankie’s office,’ He paused as cameras snapped again. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘I’m registered in Turla Lodge Hotel as Wesley Harding, but my real name is Hugh Weston.’

  *

  I the Oko headquarters, Michael Havlec was livid; reports of Oko’s defeat in the Galway Supreme Court were headline news on TV and in the nationals. Why the hell didn’t someone tell him about the damned deadline? What was he paying lawyers for? He was satisfied that he could not be implicated in the kidnapping. Now he would have to do another deal with those bastards and give them a lot more than one percent. He reached for the phone.

  As he did so, his executive assistant rushed in without knocking; he was out of breath and took a moment to recover.

  ‘Sir, our shares are in free fall; they’re down to $200. I’ve been on to our brokers; it’s a massive dawn raid.’

  ‘Dawn raid? Who?’

  ‘He doesn’t know yet. The press are looking for a statement from you. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Dammit. Issue a short statement; we’re disappointed with the result of the legal action and are now proceeding to do a new deal with the government of Hi-Brazil.’

  ‘What about the share price, sir?’

  ‘Get on with it man; the statement will settle the market. I’ll appear on TV later if necessary.’

  *

  Frankie met with Ulick and Ozzy for a quiet drink in Paulo’s; there was a wonderful atmosphere of victory in that noisy crowd. Frankie called for brandy. Paulo grinned at him. ‘Going up market, Taoiseach.’

  ‘Don’t you Taoiseach me or I’ll close this place down,’ Frankie responded with mock gravity.

  Setanta entered and cantered up to where they were standing.

  ‘What about a pint for me, DanO?’

  Ozzy looked at him. ‘I suppose I should be thankful you’re not looking for a brandy.’

  Setanta growled. ‘Never touch the stuff.’

  Ozzy passed on the order. Paulo pulled a face. ‘You’re giving that dog bad habits.’

  ‘Tell him; there’s no point telling me.’

  With Setanta slurping up his pint, Frankie turned to Ulick.

  ‘I have to hand it to you; I never had any doubts; I knew you’d see that bastard off.’

  ‘You did in your bollocks.’ he replied laughing.

  ‘What are we going to do about the rocket searchers; we can’t let then takeover the lake indefinitely. They’re upsetting our fishermen.’

  A smiling happy, Nan appeared behind the bar.

  ‘Good evening Taoiseach, Ulick and Ozzy.’

  ‘Don’t you start, Nan,’ Frankie growled.

  ‘Nan,’ Ulick called out, ‘Five brandies, if you please and another pint for Setanta.’

  ‘How did you get to five?’

  He grinned. ‘One for yourself and Paulo.’

  ‘He’s getting reckless,’ she enthused.

  ‘Or that court win is going to his head,’ Frankie growled affably.

  *

  The London CIA agents, alternatively known as embassy officials with fancy titles, went into overdrive. Judith Crosweller took a flight from Knock to Heathrow; minutes after that flight arrived, the airport was sealed off. Outgoing flights were checked as a matter of urgency; the order was; get her now, keep her in Heathrow. Passengers from Knock were checked as they entered the baggage area; she wasn’t among them. All external exits were manned.

  In the meantime, the bank in Zurich was contacted at the highest level and ordered to freeze the account. It was too late, the money was moved on as it arrived; it was like a whirlwind; Rio to Hong Kong, Cayman, Jersey, Melbourne, Rome. The list was endless; it was a hopeless task as they quickly realised. Their only hope was to get their hands on Judith Crosweller.

  They found her at home, in LA, but this wasn’t the Judith Crosweller they were looking for; she hadn’t been out of the US for six months. A very attractive young lady, she didn’t know what the FBI agent was talking about. They released her quietly. No pictures were found in Turla; the best they could obtain was a shot from the CCTV in the Lynch Bank, which wasn’t helpful.

  Meanwhile, in Heathrow, they discovered that JC (as they now called her) had booked flights to Paris, Rome and Moscow. Agents waited patiently at the check outs; then impatiently as she didn’t show. All outgoing flights were surveyed; she must be travelling on a false passport. They back checked the passenger lists of flights that departed since the Knock flight arrived and isolated a number of young ladies that might fit her description. All those flights would be met by CIA agents to whom vague descriptions were sent by email.

  Six hours later, JC had not been found. Frustrated agents resorted to the last possibility; she was still in Heathrow. A thorough physical search of the terminal followed; all exits were still manned. She could not have escaped into London. It was as though JC had disappeared into thin air.

  *

  Life returned to normal for Nodie and little John; he was none the worse for his ordeal and she greatly appreciated the widespread support she received. She would always love Ulick and someday, would tell him little John was his son. She believed he already suspected that. Now the case was over, he visited regularly and became great friends with the child. She would remain on in Conna and concentrate on rearing her little boy.

  *

  When Frankie returned from a meeting with the people of Achill Island, he called a press conference, to take place in the Imperial Hotel the following morning. The excitement and publicity surrounding the court case still continued; now everyone wanted to know what would happen to the substantial oil reserves in the Atlantic shelf west of Achill. Ulick took his seat beside the Taoiseach; the TV cameras started to roll.

  Frankie commenced. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming at such short notice. Following discussions with the good people of Achill, our government has agreed to give an exploration licence to the Oz oil company. The refinery will be built on the unoccupied island of Cara, twenty miles off shore and the oil will be pumped there directly. This will not impinge on the tourist activity of Achill and south Mayo generally; the en
vironmental effects will be minimal.’ He paused and looked around him. Nick Fenton’s hand shot up.

  ‘Taoiseach, how will the people of Hi-Brazil benefit from this arrangement?’

  He smiled. ‘I’m glad you asked, Nick. We will receive a royalty of 35% per barrel.’

  ‘That sir is certainly a big improvement on the miserly 1% we would have received under the old concession.’

  ‘The people of Achill fully support this arrangement; copies of the map can be obtained from my office.’

  Nick Fenton stood up. ‘Congratulations to you Taoiseach and President Joyc. You’re a thundering success.’

  All present rose and cheered.

  That afternoon, Michael Havlec had a visit from Hugh Weston, CEO of Oz oil, who was accompanied by two of his directors. Havlec was in a state of shock; first the dawn raid; second, the new oil concession issued to one of his competitors; and now the news that Oz oil had purchased 80% of Oko oil shares. He invited his guests to take a seat in the boardroom.

  Hugh Weston smiled amiably and got down to business immediately.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Michael. You’re finished here; clear out your desk and leave now.’

  He had hoped for better than this.

  He smiled. ‘As you well know, Hugh, I have a contract with Oko oil; you can’t fire me.’

  Weston nodded. ‘You have a choice; leave now or face a charge of kidnapping and extradition to Galway.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that,’ he blustered.

  ‘Your two thugs say differently. You would be unwise to set foot in Hi-Brazil again.’

  He tried the soft approach.

  ‘Hugh, you and I are friends; I can do things for this firm.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he smiled, ‘you can get the hell out of here: now.’

  *

  Frankie sent for the American ambassador, Rupert Smith. When he arrived, he put him sitting down and exchanged pleasantries until coffee was served. A critical phone call from Washington hadn’t improved the ambassador’s temper. Frankie sat back.

  ‘Ambassador, I would like you to meet me at Ulick Joyc’s office in Conna in the morning. Come alone. I will then show you your rocket.’

  He smiled agreeably; this was a surprise.

  ‘Certainly, Taoiseach, I’m delighted we can bring this matter to a conclusion.’

  ‘So am I, ambassador, shall we say eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Can I ask you, Taoiseach, how soon will we be able to take possession of the rocket?’

  Frankie smiled. ‘That’s for tomorrow.’

  The relieved ambassador shook hands, smiled and departed.

  The Super presented himself.

  ‘Tom,’ Frankie instructed. ‘Will you contact the representatives of Russia and China; ask them to meet us in the morning in Conna.’

  He was curious. ‘What have you got in mind, Taoiseach?’

  He smiled. ‘Tomorrow, all will be revealed.’

  ‘Sir,’ he paused, ‘Do you really think they’ll come alone?’

  ‘The Americans won’t.’

  *

  Setanta was really upset when he met Dandaboy outside Paulo’s.

  ‘Ulick is getting married to that woman; I’m about to be evicted. What am I going to do?’

  ‘I’ll think of something; did he tell you himself?’

  ‘I heard him talking to Nan. She has offered to take me in.’

  He didn‘t think DanO was taking this seriously enough, but then the little man was preoccupied with that damn rocket.

  ‘Setanta,’ he promised, ‘Don’t panic. I didn’t expect this so soon. I’ll talk to him.’

  *

  By the time Frankie arrived in Conna, a small detachment of American troops was lined up along Main Street. So much for promises. Ulick was waiting for him. The three representatives approached; the super stood by quietly.

  ‘Good morning’ Frankie addressed them and then turned to Ulick.

  ‘This is your show.’

  Ulick addressed them. ‘You three will travel with us in the Taoiseach’s car.’

  He ignored the troops.

  The ambassador objected.

  ‘I will not travel with these people without my body guards.’

  Ulick shrugged. ‘Then you can stay here.’

  He gave in.

  The car was driven north under Ulick’s instructions; the troops followed quickly on foot. There was complete silence between the representatives; they didn’t even look at one another. Approaching the Rath, they saw it in the distance: the rocket, in launch position inside the grassy surround. As the car stopped beside the Rath, Frankie muttered to Ulick.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘So do I,’ he replied.

  He saw the troops charging towards them.

  Leaving the car, they stood at the roadside. The troops arrived and spread out around the circular ditch. The atmosphere became tense. Ulick wasn’t sure who gave the order; quite suddenly the troops rushed forward and charged up the sides of the Rath. Reaching the top they were hit by what appeared to be an invisible wall; they tumbled backwards and ended up in an undignified pile around the perimeter. Ulick stepped forward while the unsuccessful troops tried to regain their composure.

  ‘Lady and Gentlemen, this is the rocket that crashed here some months ago.’

  He was interrupted by the ambassador. ‘This is the property of the Government of the United States of America; it is to be handed over to us immediately.’

  ‘It is our property,’ the affable Russian roared.

  ‘No, it is our property,’ Madame Lin insisted.

  Ulick spoke quietly. ‘Now Dandaboy.’

  Everyone jumped backwards when the after burners suddenly lit with a mighty explosion and blasted forth flames in all directions.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ the ambassador demanded, but no one heard him.

  Very slowly, the rocket lifted off, gained height quickly and became smaller in the clear blue sky. Everyone watched, frozen to the spot as their eyes followed it.

  Then, they were deafened by a mighty explosion, so powerful it momentarily blocked out the sunlight; hit by a powerful wave, they were thrown to the ground. After a few minutes, all became quiet; they started to get up and dust themselves off. Ulick walked up the side of the Rath and stood on top.

  ‘Now, my friends, no one has the rocket and the world is better off without it.’

  To his astonishment, everyone relaxed, the representatives of three nations became friendly towards each other. The ambassador approached him. ‘That’s not a bad result, although I don’t think my masters will be pleased.’

  He shook hands with them and departed.

  *

  One night, weeks later, Ulick met Ozzy and Frankie in Paulo’s for a few pints. It was a Friday night; the pub was full of Connemara men working themselves up for a busy weekend fishing. Paulo greeted them affably and placed three pints before them.

  Frankie put down his glass and looked quizzically at Ulick.

  ‘I hear very quietly that our American friends still haven’t found the lady who sold them a dummy; I think you know more about it than I do.’

  Ulick smiled.

  ‘It’s a rare tale of deception that ended happily. Professor John Yang intended the X12 for peaceful purposes but, over time, realised its incredible possibilities as a weapon of war. He came to realise his masters wanted a weapon. At some point, he had his road to Damascus and decided his country, or any other country, would be better off without it.

  He knew the Chinese and Russians were sniffing around trying to buy a copy of the plans; that really worried him. So, he removed all specifications, leaving him with the only prototype which he launched and programmed to crash.’

  ‘Did he commit suicide?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘How did Judith Crosweller get involved?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I suspect she or some
of her friends received information from the professor.’

  ‘So, how did she escape?’

  Before he could reply, a very downcast looking Setanta entered the bar and strolled towards them. Ozzy signalled to Paulo.

  ‘A pint for Setanta, if you please, Paulo.’

  Paulo raised his eyes and filled a pint into a glass bowl; Ozzy placed it before Setanta.

  ‘How did she escape?’ Frankie repeated.

  ‘From Heathrow, an airport locked down tight for twenty four hours? Ozzy may be able to help us.’

  Setanta looked up at him. ‘You tell them and while you’re at it get me another pint.’

  Ozzy did as ordered.

  Frankie was becoming impatient.

  ‘Did you do it, Ozzy?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, but I know how it was done. When the lady arrived in Heathrow, she disappeared never to be seen again.’

  ‘We know that, but how did she do it?’

  He smiled. ‘She changed into her old clothes.’ He paused grinning. ‘I should say he changed into his old clothes. The lady is a man. He checked in for a flight to Dublin and switched there to Paris.’

  Frankie laughed. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, the first day she, I mean he, arrive in Turla he take shower; I not know where to look.’

  Ulick grinned. ‘The best way to hide anything is to keep it—or she in this case—in clear view.’

  ‘But what about the money?’

  ‘Frankie, I was told the money would be divided among a number of charities operating in Africa, but that might be a lie.’

  ‘She, I mean he, visited you in your office?’

  ‘Yes. I still find it hard to think of her as a man. I think it was a genuine visit. She, I mean he, wanted my help in ensuring the rocket, if found, would be destroyed by us.’

  *

  The day of Ulick’s marriage arrived at last; a beautiful sunny day with a light wind blowing in from the Atlantic. Setanta was devastated as he watched the groom dress in a grey morning suit with a white shirt and grey tie. A decorated wedding car pulled up outside and Paulo entered; he would be the best man.

  ‘Time to go, Ulick. How are the nerves?’

  ‘I could use a Brandy.’

  ‘Later.’