Offshore Islands by John Francis Kinsella
It was a fairly conventional type of affair, the crowd dressed in their Sunday best, drinks and extravagant displays of food. Whilst the guests attacked the buffet, pretty uniformed hostesses handed out brochures and information for travel agents and tour operators.
Castlemain made his speech, cameras flashed and the local TV recorded the event for the evening news.
He replied, like the professional that he was, to the questions at the press conference, he was knowledgeable and charming, the perfect Irish gentleman.
The two reporters then proceeded to their programmed interview for the BCN Quarterly Review in a small meeting room away from the noisy inauguration. The planned questions and answers concerned the club hotel complex, the BCN and Castlemain’s role in the project as president of the Irish Union Bank.
“Mr Castlemain, can you tell us something about Tom Kavanagh?” asked Ennis changing the subject.
“I thought we were here to talk about the new club hotel!” smiled Castlemain without the least sign of surprise or irritation at the question.
“Yes, but Kavanagh is news, and I think your bank is one of his main investors!” Ennis pressed on.
“You’re right John!” he replied with friendly familiarity. “Let’s take a drink in my suite a little later if that’s alright with you, we would be much more comfortable.” After a slight pause he then added as an after thought. “I’d also like to invite you to visit Ciudad Cayo Saetia whilst you’re in Cuba, if you have time that is….”
Ennis shrugged his shoulder indifferently.
“What time, let’s say about seven?”
“Fine.”
Paul took a few last shots of the personalities with Castlemain and then they left him with the guests, who apart from the bit players were mostly local politicos and one or two showbiz celebrities invited for the occasion.
The journalists were a little puzzled as to the invitation to visit Ciudad-Cayo-something in Cuba. The impression that Castlemain had left was that above all other things he was a member of that race of persons who seemed to be born to govern or run banks and the like. Whatever happened in life it was certain that he would never be left wanting or carrying the can.
“Hello there, come in. I hope you are enjoying yourselves. If you need anything let me know and I’ll ask the manager to attend to it at once.”
Castlemain was staying in the hotel’s most expensive suite, a magnificent eighth floor penthouse apartment, at least one hundred and fifty square metres plus a huge terrace planted with flowering shrubs and potted palms, and more surprisingly a small but exclusive swimming pool. The suite looked out over the hotel gardens with a splendid view of Montego Bay, well above the ordinary tourists and far from the impoverished Jamaican crowds.
Ennis and Carvin were suitable impressed, even a little overawed, their elan if not broken was seriously deflated.
He invited them onto the terrace, night was falling and they could see the lights across the bay. It was enchanting, the temperature had fallen a little giving a gentle but silky warm early evening breeze.
“What can I offer you to drink,” he said making a sign. A waiter appeared.
“A local cocktail or something more conventional, Champagne for example?”
“I’ll have a glass of Champagne,” said Carvin, “it’ll make a change from the rum.”
“Fine. Champagne for everybody,” he said turning to the waiter whilst raising his eyebrows for approval from Ennis, who nodded in agreement.
“So how did the day go, did you get what you needed?”
“Everything was fine, no problem. A first class inauguration.”
“Excellent. Are you both free next week?”
“Well….”
“I mean you are returning to Cuba?” he lifted his head in question.
“Yes.”
“Good, then I propose you visit something very special, Ciudad Cayo Saetia.”
He was clearly trying to charm them so as to defuse the question he knew was coming.
“That’s very kind of you. There is just one small point however.”
“Yes, anything I can do to help, just try me!” he smiled.
“Kavanagh is news at the moment,” said Ennis softly.
“Oh! Kavanagh. Yes. Quite an unfortunate affair.” He touched the end of his nose, a sign of embarrassment, “He seems to be unavailable at the moment.”
“So it seems, if we understand rightly, from the news reports, there are problems with his company Swap!”
“Yes. We’re hoping that he will show up at any moment,” said Castlemain wanefully.
“The Irish Union has invested in his business,” said Ennis. It was a statement rather than a question.
“That’s right, it has been a very profitable investment. The value of the shares have been up and down a bit lately, that’s the way the market goes,” he said in an understatement.
“Swap has gone down quite a lot!”
“So has the whole market, at the beginning of last week there was quite a crash on the Nasdaq, but it’s picked up again.”
“Except for Swap, it’s not very good when the founder disappears after selling his shares!”
“Hmmm….” Castlemain was momentarily lost for words. “As I said, the bank, as far as I know hasn’t lost any money, you know gains are virtual until you sell!” he said recovering his composure.
“Can you tell us something about Kavanagh, his background….”
“I suppose I can, it won’t do any harm. If I remember rightly he was introduced to me about four or five years back by a business acquaintance, Pat Kennedy.”
The waiter filled their glasses and presented a tray of Jamaican appetisers whilst Castlemain settled down to tell the story.
Chapter 13
Ciudad Cayo Saetia
Castlemain made his speech, cameras flashed and the local TV recorded the event for the evening news.
He replied, like the professional that he was, to the questions at the press conference, he was knowledgeable and charming, the perfect Irish gentleman.
The two reporters then proceeded to their programmed interview for the BCN Quarterly Review in a small meeting room away from the noisy inauguration. The planned questions and answers concerned the club hotel complex, the BCN and Castlemain’s role in the project as president of the Irish Union Bank.
“Mr Castlemain, can you tell us something about Tom Kavanagh?” asked Ennis changing the subject.
“I thought we were here to talk about the new club hotel!” smiled Castlemain without the least sign of surprise or irritation at the question.
“Yes, but Kavanagh is news, and I think your bank is one of his main investors!” Ennis pressed on.
“You’re right John!” he replied with friendly familiarity. “Let’s take a drink in my suite a little later if that’s alright with you, we would be much more comfortable.” After a slight pause he then added as an after thought. “I’d also like to invite you to visit Ciudad Cayo Saetia whilst you’re in Cuba, if you have time that is….”
Ennis shrugged his shoulder indifferently.
“What time, let’s say about seven?”
“Fine.”
Paul took a few last shots of the personalities with Castlemain and then they left him with the guests, who apart from the bit players were mostly local politicos and one or two showbiz celebrities invited for the occasion.
The journalists were a little puzzled as to the invitation to visit Ciudad-Cayo-something in Cuba. The impression that Castlemain had left was that above all other things he was a member of that race of persons who seemed to be born to govern or run banks and the like. Whatever happened in life it was certain that he would never be left wanting or carrying the can.
“Hello there, come in. I hope you are enjoying yourselves. If you need anything let me know and I’ll ask the manager to attend to it at once.”
Castlemain was staying in the hotel’s most expensive suite, a magnificent eighth floor penthouse apartment, at least one hundred and fifty square metres plus a huge terrace planted with flowering shrubs and potted palms, and more surprisingly a small but exclusive swimming pool. The suite looked out over the hotel gardens with a splendid view of Montego Bay, well above the ordinary tourists and far from the impoverished Jamaican crowds.
Ennis and Carvin were suitable impressed, even a little overawed, their elan if not broken was seriously deflated.
He invited them onto the terrace, night was falling and they could see the lights across the bay. It was enchanting, the temperature had fallen a little giving a gentle but silky warm early evening breeze.
“What can I offer you to drink,” he said making a sign. A waiter appeared.
“A local cocktail or something more conventional, Champagne for example?”
“I’ll have a glass of Champagne,” said Carvin, “it’ll make a change from the rum.”
“Fine. Champagne for everybody,” he said turning to the waiter whilst raising his eyebrows for approval from Ennis, who nodded in agreement.
“So how did the day go, did you get what you needed?”
“Everything was fine, no problem. A first class inauguration.”
“Excellent. Are you both free next week?”
“Well….”
“I mean you are returning to Cuba?” he lifted his head in question.
“Yes.”
“Good, then I propose you visit something very special, Ciudad Cayo Saetia.”
He was clearly trying to charm them so as to defuse the question he knew was coming.
“That’s very kind of you. There is just one small point however.”
“Yes, anything I can do to help, just try me!” he smiled.
“Kavanagh is news at the moment,” said Ennis softly.
“Oh! Kavanagh. Yes. Quite an unfortunate affair.” He touched the end of his nose, a sign of embarrassment, “He seems to be unavailable at the moment.”
“So it seems, if we understand rightly, from the news reports, there are problems with his company Swap!”
“Yes. We’re hoping that he will show up at any moment,” said Castlemain wanefully.
“The Irish Union has invested in his business,” said Ennis. It was a statement rather than a question.
“That’s right, it has been a very profitable investment. The value of the shares have been up and down a bit lately, that’s the way the market goes,” he said in an understatement.
“Swap has gone down quite a lot!”
“So has the whole market, at the beginning of last week there was quite a crash on the Nasdaq, but it’s picked up again.”
“Except for Swap, it’s not very good when the founder disappears after selling his shares!”
“Hmmm….” Castlemain was momentarily lost for words. “As I said, the bank, as far as I know hasn’t lost any money, you know gains are virtual until you sell!” he said recovering his composure.
“Can you tell us something about Kavanagh, his background….”
“I suppose I can, it won’t do any harm. If I remember rightly he was introduced to me about four or five years back by a business acquaintance, Pat Kennedy.”
The waiter filled their glasses and presented a tray of Jamaican appetisers whilst Castlemain settled down to tell the story.
Chapter 13
Ciudad Cayo Saetia