Sheikhs, Lies and Real Estate: The Untold Story of Dubai (13 page)

‘Private jet?’

‘Yes, Faraz Properties brought us over for
Cityscape. We are all staying in a penthouse suite at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel.’

The thought of twelve Ukrainian models in a
single suite blew my mind.

‘So, is this your first time in Dubai,
Anastasia?’

‘Yes, and I just love it here! Only last night
we were at a pool party in a villa in the desert. There was champagne and great
food and a Jacuzzi tub! I will definitely come back here soon. So what were you
going to ask me?’

I was suddenly blinded by the random flash of a
camera lens. Rubbing my eyes, I looked up and saw a young Emirati man in a
dishdasha
and cap carrying a camera. He began circling us curiously, as if he was
listening to our conversation while pretending to be interested in the nearby
miniature model. I ignored him at first, but he was making me a little nervous.

‘So Anastasia, what are you doing on Friday
night?’

Another flash. The Emirati now had his back to
us, although his camera was pointing in our direction. I was certain he had
taken a picture, but as I was about to walk up to him to ask, I was distracted
by a commotion behind me. Anastasia disappeared to get a better view as I
turned around to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Can you see him?’ whispered an Egyptian women on
her tiptoes.

‘Not yet! Are you sure it’s him?’ replied her
Lebanese colleague.

An army of photographers took their spots and
reporters gathered around them in anticipation of something big. In the
distance at the far end of the gangway, I saw a sea of white figures coming my
way. As they slowly got closer, I noticed that the group was actually as many
as a hundred Emirati men, dressed in identical white spotless
dishdashas
.
They walked in my direction in a triangular formation led by a single figure,
whose casual pace the pack followed obediently. He was certainly in no hurry. He
strolled through the hall, observing the stands to his left and right, while nervous
salespeople and promotional girls stood silent and smiled, and the cameras
flashed frantically with his every step.

This was clearly somebody very important,
perhaps an ambassador or a royal, but it wasn’t until he was a hundred metres
away from me that his identity became clear. It was the big cheese himself. The
top dog. The big kahuna. It was Sheikh Mohammed, the ruler of Dubai.

He was less regal than his portrait in the
flesh. He looked older and was much shorter than I had expected. There was no
hint of the great visionary, businessman and leader. In his place was a
somewhat frail and reserved man, as if he was carrying a great responsibility
on his weary shoulders. It was understandable, of course. The entire fortunes
of investors from across the world depended on his every decision and whim. It
was a tough burden to carry.

I didn’t move until he was a stone’s throw
away, and for some reason I wanted him to notice me. He didn’t. The entourage eventually
walked past me and into the distance and the hall quickly got back to
business. 

‘Are you looking for something?’

I turned around to see a beautiful pair of big
brown eyes staring into mine. Standing before me was a stunning woman with
olive skin and tightly curled hair. She was dressed in a tight-fitting white
blouse, black pencil skirt and stilettos. Her black-framed glasses sat
perfectly on her button nose, like the secretary from every man’s fantasy.

‘Perhaps,’ I replied. ‘There is so much going
on, I really don’t know where to start.’

‘Well, do you need me to hold your hand?’ she
asked playfully.

‘Well, if you’re offering,’ I smiled.

She smiled back. ‘But first you have to tell me
what you’re looking for.’

I didn’t want to come across as a hopeless
browser, so I decided to fib a little to keep her interested.

‘Well, I’m after a floor or even a building in
a good location for an investment.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Maybe you can show me
some options?’

‘I would love to! I’m Alesia, by the way.’ I
looked at her badge and noticed she worked for a firm called Milestone
Properties. 

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alesia.’

‘So what’s your budget?’

‘Budget?’

‘Yes, how much do you want to spend?’

‘Well, I would say… a few million?’

‘Wow, I should take you to my closing room.’ I
smiled at the very thought of it. ‘How about I suggest something? It’s a bit
crazy in here right now, so why don’t we meet tomorrow, one on one?’

It was a difficult offer to refuse. ‘Sure.’

‘Great, shall we say dinner at eight?’

‘Dinner? Yes, dinner sounds perfect.’

‘I’ll show you everything I have then.’ She
gave me her business card. ‘Here’s my number. See you tomorrow night.’ She
winked seductively before returning to her duties on the Milestone stand.

I felt like the luckiest man at Cityscape.
Alesia was more beautiful than any of the models on the other stands, and I
couldn’t believe that I had just arranged to have dinner with her tomorrow
night without even having to ask.

I suddenly was brought crashing back to reality
by a large African man who ran into my shoulder and almost knocked me off my
feet. Before I could turn around to confront him, I noticed that a huge crowd
had developed at the Emaar stand behind me and dozens more were rushing to join
it. People were pushing to get to the front of the crowd, and I ran over to get
the scoop.

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ I asked an Indian
sales representative on the stand opposite.

‘Emaar have just announced a new tower in Downtown
Dubai, next to the Burj Dubai. They’re selling units on a first come, first
served basis. Everybody wants to buy at launch price to ensure they can flip it
at a good premium.’

It wasn’t long before the uproar turned
aggressive. An Indian man put his hand on an Arab man’s face as he struggled to
get to the front, and the Arab retaliated by punching him in the mouth. Soon
everybody was shoving viciously amid a chorus of swear words and shouting. The
girls on the Emaar stand froze with fear as the sales team attempted to calm
the crowd, with little effect. As security guards piled into the halls from all
directions, the crowd finally began to settle. This was the ugly face of the
real estate market, a winner-takes-all shoot-out where men were willing to
sacrifice their dignity and respect in the pursuit of a quick profit.

I had seen enough and decided it was time to
leave. Cityscape had been a huge eye-opener for me. It was not so surprising
that banking had failed to live up to my expectations; real estate was where
the action was in Dubai! It was here that the real money was flowing, the big
deals were closing and the serious money was being made. Property was the
engine that was fuelling the Dubai growth story and anything else was just peripheral.
I left the exhibition hall with a renewed sense of purpose. I needed to get out
of my dreary job and immerse myself in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

In the cafés outside the halls, yet more
business meetings were in progress, small coffee tables becoming makeshift
boardrooms for hungry salespeople to take yet more cash from greedy investors.
I decided to grab a coffee before taking a taxi, but as I waited in the queue I
noticed a familiar face sitting alone at a table beside me. It was the Emirati
man who had been loitering on the Faraz Properties stand. He was looking
through the pictures on his digital camera and I watched from the corner of my
eye. This young voyeur had spent his day shooting photos of the unsuspecting
promotional girls. Every single picture he had taken featured a close-up shot
of a different woman’s thighs or cleavage. It explained the flashes while I was
speaking with Anastasia. I shuddered at the thought of what this pervert had in
store for his day’s work.   

‘Sir, sir! Can I have a word?’ An Indian man
had rushed in from the hall to get my attention and was panting for air as he
spoke.

‘Sure.’

‘I am Vijay from Milestone Properties. I have
an offer which I am certain you will find difficult to turn down.’

We stepped to the side as Vijay filled me in.

‘My colleague tells me you put a deposit down
on a floor in the Victory Tower in Business Bay at the launch price. I have an
investor on the phone right now who will offer you a 15 per cent premium today
if you want to sell. Think about it: you will make 15 per cent in just two
hours, minus our brokerage fee. You can’t get a better deal than this! If this
is interesting for you, we can go to my car and do the paperwork in a few
minutes. What do you say?’

His offer was compelling, and I hesitated for a
moment before having to break the unfortunate news that he had mistaken me for
somebody else. He looked disappointed when I told him, but he apologised and
rushed back towards the hall to grab his next victim. Milestone clearly had a
slick operation in progress. While their keen salespeople sold property to
investors in the main hall, this was a secondary operation where reps were
under orders to grab those investors and compel them to sell immediately at an
attractive premium. No stone was left unturned in this crazy game.

***

The next morning, I was awoken by the bleep of an incoming
text message:

Looking forward to dinner tonight at Pier
Chic. Meet me in the lobby of the Al Qasr Hotel at eight. Alesia xx

I was ecstatic that dinner was on, but I still
wasn’t sure if it was a business meeting or a date. This was Dubai, after all;
if business and pleasure were seamlessly intertwined anywhere in the world, it
was here. That evening I decided to dress for both eventualities in a suit and
casual shirt, and made my way to the hotel.

Nestled in the grand Madinat Jumeirah complex, the
Al Qasr was one of Dubai’s finest five-star hotels. It was fashioned around the
sheikh’s own summer residences; a stunning tribute to the grand palaces of old.
As my taxi drove up the palm tree-lined ramp towards the lobby entrance, it certainly
felt more discreet and exclusive than other hotels in the city. A fleet of
super-cars were parked around an impressive sculpture of wild stallions and
dancing fountains. The lobby was bustling with affluent tourists and local
Arabs, and my attention was immediately drawn towards the majestic chandelier that
lit every crevice of the magnificent lounge.

There was no sign of Alesia yet, so I took a
seat on one of the delicious oversized sofas and waited. On the table next to
mine sat a well-groomed European man dressed in a sharp dark blue suit, engaged
in conversation with two young Emirati men. He spotted me as I sat down and I
noticed him glance over a couple of times. He certainly didn’t look familiar,
but then again I had never been too good with faces. A few moments later he got
up with his Emirati colleagues and they prepared to leave. Once again, he
turned around to glance at me before disappearing through the revolving doors.

‘Sir, the gentlemen left this for you,’ said
the waiter a few moments later. He handed me a business card.

‘Which gentleman?’

He pointed at the vacant sofa next to me. ‘The
European gentleman who was sitting over here.’

I glanced at the card:
Jonas Nielson,
General Manager, Al Danana Group
. His name didn’t ring any bells. There was
a mobile number, but before I could think about calling it, Alesia strolled
into the lobby. She was dressed in a breath-taking red cocktail dress, an
elegant pink shawl and the highest stilettos I had ever seen. It was the type
of dress that caused the entire room to stand and stare. She looked simply
stunning.

‘I’m sorry I’m a little late,’ she said and
kissed my cheek.

‘Wow, Alesia, you look absolutely incredible!’

‘Why thank you. You look pretty handsome
yourself.’ She winked. ‘Shall we?’

She wrapped her arm around mine and we made our
way down the staircase, which led us to the outdoor area at the rear of the
hotel. It was a beautiful evening, the stars were out in force and the moon
shone prominently in the distance. We followed the landscaped pathway that meandered
towards the beach, and with each step the seductive sound of the waves got
tantalisingly closer. I felt like I was in a dream. I was in one of the most
opulent hotels in the world, on my way to dine in one of the finest restaurants
in the city, with a beautiful woman on my arm. Could life get any better than
this?

We strolled towards the giant pier that extended
into the ocean, and I could now see the flickering lights of the restaurant at
the end of it. The magnificent Burj Al Arab towered over us and its bright
purple, white and blue lights helped light our path along the wooden pier.

Another couple approached us from the opposite
direction. They were a little tipsy and the gentleman was struggling to keep
his female companion from toppling over.

‘Wow, what a stunning couple you are!’ said the
woman as they walked past. A sense of pride overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help
but smile. But Alesia wasn’t my girlfriend; in fact, she wasn’t even a friend.
She was my property agent, and as I had no intention of buying anything, she
wasn’t even that. I had no idea what our relationship was, although at that
moment I didn’t really care.

I glanced around the candlelit tables as we
walked into the restaurant. Most of them were occupied by affluent-looking
older men with their younger, surgically enhanced dates, drenched in designer
labels and brilliant jewellery. Few of the couples seemed to be engaged in any
meaningful conversation. Most of the men were preoccupied by their mobile
phones while their lady friends were more interested in the shoes, watches and
handbags of the women surrounding them. It seemed that even dating was a
business transaction in Dubai.

We were shown to our corner table facing the
beach and made ourselves comfortable.