Tribunal Sketch: When Tom Gilmartin waltzed back into town in the late-1980s, after 50 years working in the UK, little did he know he was returning to something out of the Wild West.
He had "shadowy figures" trying to hold him to ransom, and "strange" hoops to jump through to get business done.
But nothing compared to the "liar" and "hustler" he first met one Tuesday in May at the Deadman's Inn in Palmerstown.
"He came up along the bar. The bar was between the door and the table where I was sitting. This gentleman arrived and he introduced himself as Liam Lawlor."
So began Mr Gilmartin's account of his dealings with the former Fianna Fáil TD who would become his nemesis in a game of high stakes that has yet to conclude.
"He said he was a TD," Mr Gilmartin recalled with disbelief, "and he knew every piece of land in the area."
The tenderfoot wanted to talk about Quarryvale, the west Dublin wasteland that he hoped to pan for gold.
But Mr Lawlor had his sights set on other riches - a planned development in the city, backed by a publicity-shy British outfit Arlington.
"He wanted to meet Arlington," Mr Gilmartin recalled. "I said I would have to ask Arlington." Two days later, Mr Lawlor turned up unannounced at an Arlington meeting in London, and Mr Gilmartin realised what exactly he had on his hands.
"The man is a f****** hustler," the Sligo-born businessman told a colleague at the meeting when Mr Lawlor demanded "in" on the project.
Mr Gilmartin then, as now, got on his high-horse and rode out of the meeting to avoid the scenario of "two Paddies in a room going to start an argument". He only got as far as the tea-rooms of the Buckingham Gate Hotel, however, before Mr Lawlor tracked him down, demanding a slice of Mr Gilmartin's piece of the action. "I said, 'You know what you can do mate'." Only he said it, "a bit more strongly".
So, at least, runs Mr Gilmartin's side of the story.
Mr Lawlor was not at Dublin Castle yesterday to renew the showdown.
