Being Real About Real Estate

Apologies for being somewhat late with this missive. Sir Harry had called with a request -- well, actually an order -- and it took some time to get all the ducks in order. He needed three safe houses in various spots in and around Toronto, and needed them within the month, bought, paid for and secure.

"And pigs will fly, Harry" I said flatly.

"It's a simple request."

"No, it is not," I replied. "It is anything but simple. Real estate agents will be involved, as well as lawyers, inspectors, municipal government officials --"

"Why the hell would they be involved?"

"Ah, Sir Harry, the Mayor of Toronto in his rapacious need for revenue to support the homeless and bicycles, has created a land transfer tax -- "

"Details, Ernestine. Details." (Ernestine is my code name that Harry dreamt up in a weak moment.) "See to it. Her Majesty's Government will be grateful.

"How grateful?"

"That concession in Norfolk you want for your sugar beet adventures might become available."

Now that changed things somewhat, but one question concerned me. "Sir Harry, if I did manage to get the houses, and even managed to make them secure, just who would mind them? You just can't leave them vacant. Raises awkward questions."

Sir Harry replied, "Not to worry. three young couples from...well, never mind where they're from. Occupancy will not be a problem."

"Oh, and these young folk will simply sail through Canadian immigration?"

"Already taken care of. We've made an arrangement with the appropriate officials. Involved doing some free fix work on those wonky submarines we sold to Canada. Delight all round. Now get to work on those houses."

My next call was to Don Guido, on his secure line.

"Bella. Always a pleasure. But unexpected. The score, as I recall, is even."

"And will stay that way. This will be a tit for tat. Cosi fan tutte, as it were."

"That's not entirely accurate, but let it go. What are you after?"

I explained my need for three houses, along with the need to make them secure."

"Just how secure?" asked Don Guido.

"As your own home. Steel, reinforced concrete, the works. But not the internal systems. I will arrange that myself. And the exteriors should look entirely normal, Don Mills Functional if you will. No charming architectural wonders."

There was a lengthy silence, after which Don Guido said, "There is a possibility I could help. But Bella, if this is the tit, what is the tat?"

"Twenty per cent of the Calabria sugar beet farm."

"Forty per cent."

"Thirty per cent."

"Thirty-five percent" said Don Guido.

"Done," I replied. "I will have my lawyers draw up the necessary."

"Still using Lambaste, Lambaste and Scruem?"

"Yes."

"Good firm, that. In fact, I have a nephew --"

"I don't want to know. Now Don Guido, you know that various permits will be required --"

"And various people will profit. Or other arrangements will be made. My area, not yours."

"Well, then, we can proceed. And all this, as I am sure you would agree, falls under the Einstein equation."

"E = mc squared?"

"Not exactly. Let us just say that if A is success in life, then A equals x plus y plus z. Work is x, y is play, and z is keeping your mouth shut."

"Brava, bella. May you have long life."

And that was that.