Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick (17 page)

‘We have to get that damned missile back; it’s all we’ve got.’

‘We’d better get to it before the opposition.’

*

T
aoiseach, Frankie Carney, sat at his big old mahogany desk, high above Eyre Square in Galway city. He let the American ambassador, Rupert Smith—sitting opposite—finish. The tall, handsome, immaculately dressed, retired business man from Kentucky was posted to Hi-Brazil for one reason; he was a personal friend of the President. This was one of the easier postings. He spent most of his time entertaining and playing golf.

Today was different. He tried to finish on a persuasive note.

‘I would take it as a great favour, Taoiseach, if you could see your way to comply with the President’s request.’

Frankie leaned forward, trying to conceal his amazement.

‘You want to send in a thousand marines to look for a stray missile that may have crashed somewhere in west Galway?’

‘That’s about it, sir. I can’t over emphasise how vital this weapon is to our security.’

Does our security include Hi-Brazil, Frankie wondered?

He looked directly at the ambassador.

‘But surely you can make other missiles?’

‘Of course, we can,’ he lied calmly, lowering his voice, ‘Our concern is that this missile doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.’

‘It must have been destroyed when it crashed.’

‘If we can establish that, Taoiseach, we’ll be satisfied.’

Frankie appeared to make up his mind.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Ambassador, I can’t have your soldiers tramping all over Connemara.’ He paused. ‘If you want to send a few civilians that would be acceptable.’

The ambassador rose. ‘Taoiseach, perhaps I haven’t made myself clear; my people will do anything that’s necessary—and I mean anything—to recover that missile or whatever is left of it.’

Frankie didn’t like the veiled threat.

‘Ambassador, we’ll search for your missile and if we find it, will hand it over to you. That’s the best I can do.’

‘Thank you, Taoiseach; I’ll convey your decision to my government.’

He didn’t look best pleased as he departed.

*

F
rankie Carney, the senior Mayo TG lived in Louisburg with his partner, Lisa Hyland, who practiced as a solicitor there. They had a holiday home on Clare Island where they spent much of their spare time. With Ulick Joyc, he was one of the founder members of the new state. From farming stock, of which he was proud, he only took prisoners when it suited; a man of the people, now in his seventies, he was mellowing a little.

He met Ulick and Ozzy later that evening in Paulo’s pub in Conna. A rotund, affable little man, in his fifties, Paulo Kelly, left Maam valley as a young man to seek his fortune abroad. Having spent years on the cruise liners, he bought a saloon in Philadelphia, before returning to Conna to fulfil his life’s ambition—to own the finest pub in the town. It was situated across the road from Ulick’s office. He lived overhead with his partner, Nan Casey, who, many thought, might be his wife, but didn’t dare ask.

Paulo served up three pints and left them. Frankie told Ulick and Ozzy about the visit from the American ambassador.

Ulick shrugged. ’There’s always some hoors who want to rule the world.’

Frankie nodded. ‘Should we try to find it?’

‘I think we should; but whether we should hand it over is another matter.’

He turned to Ozzy. ‘What do you think?’

The old Connemara man, dressed in black with a collarless shirt that was once white, put down his glass and ran his fingers through his shock of white hair.

‘I don’t know.’

Ulick was disappointed; nothing happened in Connemara that Ozzy and his people didn’t know about.

*

W
hen they adjourned, Ozzy headed out the road towards the lake. It was a fine summer’s evening with the crows gathering in great numbers in the nearby trees. This was the time of day when they cawed at one another and did they know how! It must be their way of exchanging the gossip of the day. He passed Ned’s line and pressed on. When he approached the high grassy ditch surrounding the Rath, he blinked twice; and there stood, not Ozzy, but Dandaboy, a little man, thirty inches tall, with tightly cropped blonde hair, big humorous brown eyes dominating his innocent expression. Dressed in a red tee shirt over green trousers, he wore a multicoloured pixie.

He skipped through the outer ditch of the Rath as if it didn’t exist; he was home, back to the wonderful land of his people, with its massive waterfall, where the sun always seemed to shine and a resonating melody emanated from a single note. His friends and neighbours, busy with their tasks, smiled at him as he passed and made his way to the palace. Normally he reported to his king only once a week.

Kingpa, the high king of the little people, was old in years but young in mind. Of all the Raths in Ireland and there were many, Rath Pallas was the oldest and Kingpa, the great High King of the Raths of Eireann, was the Supreme Judge in all matters. Were it not for the little crown, sitting askew on his grey head, no one would believe that this calm and retiring little man with his long white beard, could be the High King

He greeted Dandaboy with a smile and listened in silence to his report. Afterwards, he sat quietly for a few moments. Dandaboy waited. Then the king spoke.

‘So, that’s what it is; a dangerous weapon. Perhaps, it would be best if it’s not found.’

*

N
odie returned to Galway accompanied by her son, John, a lovely intelligent little boy with his mother’s brown eyes; her nanny, Ester, a pleasant eighteen year old who hailed from Barna, accompanied them. It was nice to be home, but it wasn’t without a feeling of trepidation. She would be seeing Ulick again. She had heard about Ella who was young and quite beautiful. Her great joy was her little son, a cheerful and happy child, not unlike his father. She alone knew the father; she didn’t reveal his identity to anyone, not even to the doctor who looked after her during her pregnancy.

One evening, while Ester was out shopping, Nodie was sitting quietly on her garden seat while John played nearby with his tricycle. She was beginning to realise how much she missed the Atlantic air, sometimes warm and bracing, sometimes wild and stormy; and the wide open spaces of Connemara with its blue grey mountains, brownish lakes and cascading rivers.

She visited her parent’s grave and the old stone church where she prayed as a child. Everyone was so kind; she booked little John into the local national school. Welcomed to Galway by the other Supreme Court judge, Cyril Watson, she was introduced to her law clerk, Luke Roe, and given a list of cases allocated to her.

One particular item caught her eye; the Oko Oil Company verses the people of Achill. This highly contentious case had been going on for years; there had been many public demonstrations; the local people absolutely refused to allow the oil company develop an oilfield in the Atlantic shelf and build a refinery on their beautiful island. They wanted the oil company’s concession withdrawn. Granted many years before the new state was set up, it had not received the approval of Teac Galway.

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.’

*

T
he 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.”

*

T
he 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.

*

A
nnie 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.

*

T
urla 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.