Sheikhs, Lies and Real Estate: The Untold Story of Dubai (7 page)

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ screamed Colin.

‘Come on Colin, the poor guy is terrified for
his job. Give him a break!’

‘With all due respect, I think I know a little
more about the customs here than you do,’ said Colin, fuming at my
interference. ‘In this country you have to give these guys shit to keep them on
the ball. It makes them work harder and not get too lazy. If you’re too polite,
you get walked all over. You clearly have a lot to learn about how this city
works, mate. Now excuse me, nature calls.’

As he left the table abruptly, I peered over at
Jerome at the far end. A pretty blonde dressed in a revealing off-the-shoulder
blouse and mini skirt was sitting on his lap. She was attractive, but clearly
older than him, and while she continuously rubbed his face and kissed his
cheek, his nonchalant manner was frustrating her. I figured it was her voice I
had heard giggling in the background when I called him last night. Jerome
spotted me watching and winked before running his hand up her thigh.

As everybody got drunker, the table was
becoming increasingly rowdy and the group was now drawing attention from other
guests in the lobby. Jamie began putting cheese up his nose and screaming the
words of the British national anthem at the top of his voice with his arms in
the air. The others joined in, including Jerome. The large woman with the
flowery frock and glasses fell off her chair onto the marble floor, giggling as
she struggled to get up. Wine bottles were toppling and cutlery crashing to the
floor. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly embarrassed as the disgusted
onlookers shook their heads at us. What was meant to be a civilised evening had
somehow descended into farce, and I felt quite ashamed to be part of it. It
wasn’t long before the hotel manager approached us, looking extremely
distressed.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid I am going
to have to ask you to keep the noise down.’

‘Fuck off!’ replied Jamie, an exclamation that was
met with a roar of applause from the table. The manager turned white with
embarrassment. I saw it as a perfect opportunity to escape and make a dash for
the men’s room.

I took a deep breath of relief as I locked the
door behind me. The silent sanctuary of the cubicle provided a huge relief from
the commotion outside. But as I began to unzip my trousers, I was startled by
the sound of an ecstatic female voice in the cubicle next to mine.

‘Oh, Colin!’ she screamed.

‘That’s my name,’ replied a familiar voice.

‘Colin, you tiger!’

‘That I am, darling. That I am.’

I quickly gathered what I was disturbing and
made a swift exit before the situation could get any more awkward.

Back at the table, the group had struggled to
their feet and were stumbling out of the hotel like a clan of intoxicated football
hooligans, much to the relief of the manager. They scrambled into taxis waiting
outside, still singing all the way.

‘Oi, Jerome! You comin’, yeah?’ shouted Colin,
who had now finished his business in the bathroom and rejoined the group,
oblivious that the zipper on his trousers was still wide open.

‘Where are you guys going?’ asked Jerome.

‘Barasti, my man! It’s ladies’ night tonight.
So many women, so little time!’

The female colleagues in the back of Colin’s
taxi found this particularly funny.

‘Okay, cool, I might see you guys there in a
bit.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Colin before jumping into
his cab. “More women for me!”

‘What’s Barasti?’ I asked Jerome.

‘Hmm, difficult to explain. Think about it this
way: imagine your old school disco. Now add a bunch of drunken English expats,
cheesy 80s music and a beach. That’s Barasti. It’s chav heaven in Dubai.’ I
shuddered at the thought.

Jerome handed the valet attendant his ticket
and within minutes a convertible black Mercedes SLK with the roof lowered appeared
before us.

‘Is this your ride?’ I asked.

‘Sure is.’ He jumped into the driver’s seat
before lighting a cigarette. ‘Let’s roll, dude!’

I hesitated. ‘Haven’t you been drinking,
Jerome?’

‘Don’t worry,
habibi
, I’m fine!’

‘What if you get pulled over?’

‘Trust me, bro, I’ve been a lot drunker than
this in the past and had absolutely no issues. I’m totally fine. Jump in!’

I was quite alarmed by his blasé attitude to
the country’s strict legal code, which employed a zero-tolerance approach to
drink driving. If caught, an immediate jail sentence followed by deportation
was certain. But for some inexplicable reason I sat in the passenger seat
anyway. Jerome put a CD into the stereo and the speakers began to blast out the
heavy bass of a hip-hop track. With a mighty roar of the engine, we drove off
into the night.

My heart was in my mouth for most of the
journey. Jerome weaved carelessly between the six lanes of the Sheikh Zayed
Road, missing the speeding cars around him by inches as they honked at us in protest.
As we sped past the bright lights of the skyscrapers, my heart was pounding in
sync with the music. Jerome kept the convertible hood down despite the
punishing humidity and dusty breeze, as we charged towards the Trade Centre
roundabout and the old part of the city.

To my horror, Jerome pulled out his mobile
phone and began to dial. I almost grabbed the wheel as he took his eyes off the
road to make the call. Using a mobile while driving was the second law I had
seen him break in less than ten minutes, and again he didn’t seem to care.

‘Hey babe, it’s Jerome, we’re on our way now.
Keep a table warm.
Ciao
.’

We eventually pulled up outside the lobby
entrance of The Raffles, one of Dubai’s newest and most exclusive five-star
hotels, and not a moment too soon. Jerome tossed his keys to the Filipino valet
attendant and we strolled in like a couple of high rollers.

From the outside the hotel looked like a giant
pyramid of glass and concrete, forming the new centrepiece of the Egyptian-themed
Wafi Mall. Inside, the lobby oozed opulence, with large velvet sofas, marble
pillars and a stunning indoor waterfall.

‘Welcome to The Raffles, gentlemen,’ said a
beautiful Oriental woman dressed like a china doll. She offered us a hot towel
scented with jasmine before ushering us into the gold-plated elevators.

‘Where are we going, Jerome?’

‘You’ll see,’ he smiled.

As the elevator doors opened, we found
ourselves at the foot of a large staircase in a dark room surrounded by huge
floor-to-ceiling windows.

‘Good evening and welcome to the China Moon
bar,’ said the tall, exotic hostess who greeted us.  She had flawless olive
skin and sleek black hair, and would not have looked out of place on the
catwalk in Paris fashion week.

‘Thanks, babe. The name’s Jerome. We’re guests
of Chantal.’

‘Yes, we were expecting you. Please follow me.’
As she strutted up the glass staircase to the upper floor, Jerome kept his eyes
fixed on her toned behind. I realised we were now in the very tip of the
pyramid, and the view of the old city skyline below us was stunning.

‘She’s smoking hot! Remind me to get her number
when we leave,’ said Jerome as the hostess glided away after showing us to the
table.

‘Oh, so the girl you were sitting with at the
Shangri La is not your girlfriend?’ I asked.

‘Lucy? Hell no, she’s nobody!’

‘Really? She didn’t look like nobody to me.’

‘She’s our office secretary. Lucy and I have
just been fooling around. It’s nothing serious. To tell you the truth, I’m
completely bored and I have no idea how to get rid of her. The more I keep my
distance, the more she keeps clinging on.’

I could see that Jerome was getting
uncomfortable talking about it, so I decided not to probe further. ‘So, what
brought you to Dubai, Jerome?’

‘Three words: Money. Dough. Peso. I’m going to
make five million in the next couple of years here, and I’m getting the fuck
out. I’m gonna buy a home in Kensington and a flat in Cannes, and sit back and
live the good life.’

‘Just five million?’ I laughed. ‘Hell, why not
push it to a billion?’

He failed to see the humour. ‘I think that
should be the very least considering where we are right now. Think about it,
this is the fastest-growing city in the world and it’s an untapped goldmine.
It’s the Wild West and we’re the first cowboys to get our share.’

His words struck an immediate chord with me. ‘Yes,
I totally agree.’

‘People like you and me are pioneers. We’re
among the few who have the balls to come and take this opportunity. Yeah,
others will be here after us, but they will be too late. The time is now and we
have to grab it!’

I could feel the passion in his every word. ‘You’re
right, Jerome. But are you really going to make your millions through
recruitment? There are only so many jobs and people looking for them, right?’

‘No, recruitment is only a time-filler for me.
It pays the bills. Just like I don’t think you’re planning to be a banker for ever.
It’s a means to an end, that’s all. I’m working on a few other things that are
going to make me the real money.’

‘Like what?’ I asked, intrigued.

‘Well, unfortunately I’m not at liberty to say
right now.’ His caginess was both frustrating and enticing.

‘Come on, man, who am I going to tell? I only
just met you!’

Jerome paused and stared at me deeply for a
moment, as if he was assessing whether I could be trusted. ‘I don’t know, mate,
it’s kind of confidential.’

I felt like he was toying with me; if he was,
it was working. ‘Jerome, come on, you can trust me, I swear!’

He sighed. ‘Well, I guess you are a friend of
my brother, and he’s the best freakin’ judge of character I know.’ He paused
again. ‘Okay, I will let you in on something, but you have to promise to keep
it very confidential. This is some seriously sensitive shit.’

‘Of course!’ I said reassuringly. ‘It doesn’t
leave this bar, promise.’

The intensity in his green eyes was making me a
little uncomfortable. He moved closer and began to whisper. ‘Well, there is a
prime piece of land in Dubai that I have direct access to. Very few people know
about it, but it’s in a very attractive location. I’m talking grade A prime
location.’

‘Okay, so where is it?’ 

‘I can’t say just yet. But take my word for it,
it’s the best location in the city,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been given a mandate to
sell it on behalf of the seller. If you can help me find a buyer, we can make a
fortune that we’ll split between us.’ 

‘Okay, but how do you have access to it?’

‘Let’s just say I’m connected with people who
know people in the corridors of power.’

‘How powerful are we talking exactly?’

‘I’m talking all the way to the top.’

Jerome was certainly persuasive, but something
didn’t sound right and I began to smell the bullshit. How could a young, cocky
recruitment consultant who had barely been in the country for a year be so well
connected?

‘Jerome if you don’t mind me asking, how did
you get to know these people?’

Jerome suddenly recoiled. ‘Mate, if you don’t
want to be involved then I don’t mind. I’m quite capable of finding a buyer on
my own.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just want to know if
it’s a credible source. That’s all. I gotta protect my reputation too, you
know.’

He shook his head and calmed down. ‘Listen. I’m
not allowed to say too much, but trust me, this deal is coming through somebody
who knows the big daddy Sheikh Mohammed himself. That’s all I can say right
now. You find me a buyer and we split the fees fifty-fifty. I can’t say fairer
than that.’

‘So let’s say hypothetically I did have a
buyer. How much money can we actually make on this deal?’

Jerome sat back in his chair and smiled. It
seemed I was finally speaking his language. ‘Look at it this way. A plot like
this is worth at least half a billion dirhams, which is around seventy-five
million pounds. If we’re working on a minimum 2 per cent commission, you do the
math.’

I punched in the numbers on my mobile phone
calculator. The figure that appeared almost made me fall off my chair.

‘Are you honestly saying we could make 10
million dirhams if we close this?’

‘Yep,’ said Jerome, sipping on his cocktail. ‘So
are you in?’

‘Of course I am! But I need some more details,
location, price, plans...’

‘Listen. You find me a serious buyer and I will
provide you with everything you need. You have my word. If we can close this
quickly, we will both make a lot of money. And there are plenty more where this
is coming from, believe me. Do we have a deal?’

As he put out his hand I looked into his eyes
and grabbed it. ‘Deal!’

There were all sorts of thoughts rushing through
my mind. Why had Jerome decided to trust me so easily? Why hadn’t he found a
buyer on his own? Was the deal even for real? But despite my doubts, at that
moment the opportunity sounded just too good to miss. I sat back and took a
long, deep pull of my cigar. If Jerome was for real, this was my chance to
become the person I had always dreamed of being. A true player in a land of
opportunity.

***

The next morning I woke up to the worrying reality that I
still had not found an apartment. Imperial Bank had agreed to pay my expenses
for a month, after which I was out on the street, so I had to move fast. Over
breakfast I grabbed a copy of the property section of the
Gulf News
to
assess my options. I ploughed through three chunky property supplements before
I finally got to the lettings section. It was not a pretty sight. Every single
studio or one-bedroom apartment was at least two thousand dirhams outside my
budget, including those in the older parts of town like Satwa and Bur Dubai. It
seemed my dream of beachside living was further away than I had imagined.