Claire Kilroy - The Devil I Know

‘An hotel?’

‘Correct. That’ll go at the harbour end.’

‘Father built an hotel on the estate and it barely ever achieves full occupancy, not even in summer. Not even when there’s a wedding. The last thing Howth needs is another empty hotel.’

‘This is Ireland.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You can’t build an apartment complex in Ireland without a hotel.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can.’

‘Ah see,’ he said, ‘you can an you can’t. No investor will touch you unless you qualify for Section 23-type reliefs.’

‘Section 23?’

‘Tax write-offs. So we have to build either a hotel or a multi-storey car park or a hospital or a student residence. None a which are needed, but the way I see it, if you build a hotel, then at least you have a bar.’ He pointed through the windscreen at the western boundary. ‘The leisure centre is going to be over there, an we have to keep the park an public tennis courts or they’ll all be moanin an cribbin, though we’re turning some of it into an all-weather playing pitch, but we may as well not bother if you ask me because no one’s going to be able to use it in anyways seeing as we’re putting it right next to the cream crackers.’

‘The what?’

‘Travellers’ halting site. They have to be given three semi-Ds an a detached four-bed house gratis an for nothing.’ He rolled down the window and hawked out a gullier of spit. ‘The working man up to his bollocks in debt to live in a rabbit hutch an that shower in the proper houses breaking their holes laughing at him.’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘So don’t build rabbit hutches for the working man.’

He shrugged. ‘Logistics. Only way to make it worth me while. An I’ve to push planning permission through before that poncey bill on design standards gets passed, because then it’ll be all dual aspect this an acoustic privacy that. Windows in kitchens an adequate storage, blah blah. There’ll be a few flash penthouses up top, obviously, but the rest a the units will be shoeboxes. I’m going to increase the population of Howth by an eighth overnight.’ This stated with pride, as if he personally were to sire each newcomer.

‘What about zoning?’

‘Don’t mind zoning.’

This was what I was dealing with. ‘Dessie, the kind of population density you’re proposing is appropriate to a city-centre location, not a seaside suburb. You’ll never get permission for a series of eight-storey apartment blocks, never mind an hotel.’

Hickey winked. ‘I know the very man. Here, open the glovebox.’

‘Why?’

‘Lamb a God, just open it.’

Inside was the site map. I took it out, and then frowned. ‘How can you build three semi-Ds?’

‘Wha?’

‘You can’t, by definition, build an odd number of semi-detached houses. They have to be built in pairs.’

Hickey rolled his eyes, as if this were precisely the class of hair-splitting shite that he’d come to expect of me.

‘Besides,’ I said, ‘I already told you. We no longer own this land.’

‘I know that.’

‘So what do you want from me?’

‘I want you to lend me the money.’

Had he heard about the hundred grand from M. Deauville? Impossible. I’d literally just cashed the cheque. Either way, it wasn’t enough. ‘You’re talking a seven-figure sum there, Dessie.’

‘I am.’

I laughed. ‘What on earth makes you think I have that kind of money?’

‘Not you, ya thick. Your new bank.’

‘What new bank?’

‘Castle Holdings.’

A clang of alarm down my spinal cord. ‘How do you know about Castle Holdings?’

‘There’s a bleedin sign nailed to your bleedin door.’ Hickey wheeled the truck around so that we were facing the length of the site and he switched the engine off. ‘An you’re the bleedin director. At least, that’s what it says in the Register a Companies. Amn’t I only after coming from there?’ An image of a dusty black ledger of sins, and my name entered into the debtor’s column. ‘There was a phone number,’ he continued, ‘a Dublin one, city centre. I rang it an nobody answered. But the ringtone was funny.’ He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘You know, like, foreign . As if me call was being diverted to some other country, like when you dial them computer helplines an end up talking to some gee-bag in Bombay. Something dodgy going on there, I says, seeing as the registered address a Castle Holdings is up the road. So anyway, there I was driving home when I seen you coming out a the bank. An I thought: here, that’s dodgy too, His Lordship doing business with the competition, an that’s when I copped that Castle Holdings isn’t an ordinary bank with local branches an that. No, it’s a commercial lender .’

‘Castle Holdings isn’t a bank.’

Hickey shook his head. ‘Snot what I heard.’ He pulled a photocopy from his back pocket and began to read. ‘According to the Register a Companies, Castle Holdings is the treasury-management arm of a transnational corporation. Treasury-management arms of transnational corporations are permitted in Ireland to be licensed as banks. In the case of most group treasury and asset financing operations, the Financial Regulator has disapplied its powers of supervision.’

‘Disapplied?’

‘Yeah. Disapplied.’

‘That’s not a word.’

Hickey shrugged. ‘That’s what it says in the IDA brochure. Quote: “The Financial Regulator has disapplied its powers of supervision.” To cut a long story short,’ he concluded, ‘global corporations can establish unsupervised banks in Ireland. Banks like Castle Holdings. You’re routing money through the Irish State to avail a the low corporation tax.’ He dealt my arm a fond right hook. ‘I didn’t think you had it in ya. Personally, I hate the Tax Man. Any enemy a his is a friend a mine.’

I stared at him. What class of racket had I put my family name to? M. Deauville had some questions to answer. At that moment, my mobile rang. Unknown . Speak of the devil. I excused myself and climbed out of the truck.

‘We need to talk, Monsieur Deauville,’ I said. ‘I’ve a man here,’ — I glanced back at the truck to make sure that Hickey couldn’t hear me — ‘who seems to think that I’ll loan him money. Capital,’ I corrected myself, as seven figures commanded a more imperious title than money. ‘This man seems to think that Castle Holdings is some class of bank, and that I’m some class of bank manager.’

I waited for M. Deauville to dismiss Hickey’s ludicrous allegation. ‘I see,’ he said instead. I waited for him to say more. He did not.

‘Well?’ I prompted him. ‘Is this man correct in his assertions?’

‘What is his name?’

‘It’s Hickey again.’ The door of the truck slammed. The accused was on his way over.

‘Hickey, the property developer?’

‘He’s a builder.’

Tocka tocka . M. Deauville’s fleet fingers flying across the keyboard. The man could type as quickly as he could think. I turned my back on Hickey and put some distance between us.

‘And where is the site located?’

I stopped walking. How did he know about the site? ‘I never mentioned a site.’

‘Mr Hickey is a developer. I assume he requires finance to develop a site. I am endeavouring to establish where this site is located.’

I turned to the perimeter wall and came face to face with Ireland’s Eye across the sound — russet against the blue of sea and sky, Lambay Island mauve in the distance. ‘It’s on the coast,’ I told him. ‘Along Claremont Beach. Just before you come to Howth Harbour.’

Tocka tocka . ‘Indeed,’ M. Deauville said. ‘Area of high scenic amenity. Beaches and mountains. Yacht club, fishing village. Seafood restaurants, a proliferation of golf courses. Twenty-six minute journey by commuter train to the city centre. A most sought-after location. Castle Holdings is interested in investments of this nature.’