The Snow Tiger / Night of Error (14 page)

‘I didn’t give it a thought.’

Ballard picked up a sheet of paper. ‘You said in evidence that your secretary had left a number of messages from me. You also said that you judged, from the number and tenor of those messages, that the matter was urgent. Did you think I’d been drunk all day? The first call I had was at eleven-thirty that morning.’

‘I told you. I didn’t give it a thought.’

‘Evidently not. So you did not try to call me back?’

‘No.’

‘And you did not try to communicate with the Ministry of Civil Defence?’

‘No.’

‘As a matter of interest, Mr Crowell, what
did
you do? After you had discussed it with your wife, I mean.’

‘I went to bed.’

‘You went to bed,’ repeated Ballard slowly. ‘Thank you, Mr Crowell. That will be all.’ He waited until Crowell was rising from the chair and was in a half crouch. ‘Oh, there is just one further thing. Did you come forward voluntarily to give evidence here, or were you subpoena’d?’

‘I object,’ said Rickman. ‘That has nothing to do with anything.’

‘I agree, Mr Rickman,’ said Harrison smoothly. ‘This Commission need not be instructed that Mr Crowell was subpoena’d – it already knows.’ He ignored the indescribable sound that came from Rickman, and continued blandly, ‘And now I think we shall adjourn for lunch.’

Over lunch in the restaurant near the Provincial Buildings, McGill said, ‘You’re doing all right, Ian. You got in some good stuff this morning.’

Ballard poured a glass of water. ‘I didn’t think Harrison would let me get away with it.’

‘Get away with it! God, he compounded with you. He ticked you off when he had to, but he didn’t stop you. I thought I’d split a gusset when he brought out the bit that Crowell had been subpoena’d. He agreed with Rickman and harpooned him in the same breath.’ McGill paused. ‘I don’t think Harrison likes Crowell.’

‘I don’t like him much myself.’

‘You’re not doing yourself much good with your family. That histrionic speech about the company dancing to strings pulled in the City of London won’t go down well with your uncles back home. Where did you learn to pull a trick like that?’

Ballard grinned. ‘Watching the Perry Mason Show.’ He shrugged. ‘It won’t make much difference. I’ve already decided to leave the Ballard Group.’

‘After a speech like that you’ll have to. I can’t see any Ballard company hiring you now. What will you do?’

‘Haven’t made up my mind yet. Something will turn up.’ He frowned. ‘I keep wondering what Stenning wants.’

‘Do you know him at all?’

‘Not well. The old man relied on him a lot, and I know why. He’s a tough old bird, about as ruthless as old Ben was himself. Ben told him what he wanted to do, and Stenning figured out a legal way of doing it. He’s as sharp as a tack.’

‘You say he’s old – how old?’

Ballard reflected. ‘He’ll be pushing seventy now, I suppose. He was much younger than Ben. One of the bright young men that Ben surrounded himself with in the early years.’

‘An old guy of seventy flying half way across the world,’ mused McGill. ‘Could be important, Ian.’

‘I can’t see how.’

McGill looked up. ‘Here comes someone else who is not doing herself much good with her family.’ He stood up. ‘Hi, Liz.’

Liz Peterson put her hand on Ballard’s shoulder. ‘Don’t get up, Ian. Hi, Mike.’

McGill drew up a chair for her and then sat down. He put out his hand and rubbed Liz’s dog behind the ears. ‘Hi, Victor; how’s the boy?’ The Alsatian lolled his tongue and his tail wagged vigorously.

‘I didn’t see you at the hearing this morning,’ said Ballard.

‘I was there. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. It’s just that I wasn’t sitting with the boys. I don’t like Lyall – he gives me the cold grues. Where’s Joe?’

‘Gone back to the hospital. Giving evidence this morning took it out of him.’

Liz tapped on the table. ‘My charming brother, Charlie, manufactures the bullets and Lyall fires them.’ She burlesqued Lyall’s accent. ‘“Did Mr Ballard drink heavily that night?” I damn near cheered when Joe fired that right back. It wounded Charlie to the heart.’

‘You’re not doing yourself much good with them,’ warned Ballard.

‘To hell with both of them,’ she said pleasantly. ‘I only stuck around because of Johnnie, and now he’s dead I’ll be leaving Huka. Maybe I’ll be leaving New Zealand.’

‘A fine pair you are,’ said McGill. ‘Don’t either of you believe in family ties at all?’

‘Not with that pair,’ said Liz. ‘I nearly gave Charlie a heart attack just now. I said that if anyone implied that Ian was drunk just once more I’d offer my services as your witness. I said that I can tell well enough when the man I’m dancing with is drunk, and that Ian wasn’t but that Charlie certainly was.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve never seen a man go red and white at the same time.’

‘I’d be careful, Liz,’ said Ballard soberly. ‘Charlie can be violent.’

‘Don’t I know it! I once had to crown him with a bottle. But I can handle him.’

McGill smiled satirically. ‘So unlike the home life of our own dear Queen,’ he observed.

Ballard said, ‘Thanks for the support, Liz. Ever since the avalanche I’ve been depressed, but now the depression is lifting. I’ve made a couple of decisions and now the way ahead seems a lot clearer. You’ve had a lot to do with it.’

‘I bring more than support, sir – I bring information. Rickman and Lyall are cooking up something together. I was driving past the company office just now when they both came out together, laughing fit to bust.’

‘Watch it, Ian,’ warned McGill. ‘It’ll be a pincer movement.’

‘Thanks, Liz,’ said Ballard.

She looked at her watch. ‘I think I’ll sit with the boys this afternoon. I might learn something more. See you at the hearing.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, Victor.’

As she walked away McGill said, ‘The prettiest spy I ever did see.’ He finished his coffee and looked around for the waitress. ‘We’d better be going, too. By the way, what are these couple of decisions you’ve made?’

‘You’ve heard one – I’m leaving the Ballard Group.’

‘And the other?’

‘I’m getting married,’ said Ballard placidly.

McGill paused, his wallet half way from his breast pocket. ‘Well, congratulations. Who’s the lucky girl?’

Ballard dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. ‘Liz Peterson – if she’ll have me.’

‘You must be insane,’ said McGill. ‘Who’d want Charlie as a brother-in-law?’

MacAllister was an electrical engineer, stolid and given to precise answers. When Harrison asked him when the power lines were cut, he answered, ‘Two minutes and seven seconds to midnight.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Professor Rolandson.

‘There is a recording device on the circuit breakers. When they kicked out the time was recorded.’

Harrison said, ‘What did you do?’

‘Established where the break was.’

From Rolandson: ‘How?’

‘I put a current on the line and measured the resistivity. That gave a rough idea of the distance to the break. I put it as a little short of Hukahoronui.’

‘And then?’

‘I rang my opposite number in Post Office Telephones and asked if he had the same trouble. He had, and he confirmed my findings. I then sent out an inspection crew.’

‘With what result?’

‘They rang me nearly two hours later to say that they had found the trouble. They said it was due to a fall of snow. A Post Office crew was also there and my men had used their portable telephone.’

‘They just said it was due to a fall of snow?’

‘Yes, sir. It didn’t seem reasonable to me that a fall of snow could cut the cables so I asked for further information. The entrance to the valley of Hukahoronui is by a cleft or gap, and my men said the gap was filled with snow to a height farther than they could see in the darkness. I know the place, sir, and I asked if the river which runs out of the valley was still flowing. My man said there was a little flow but not very much. I assumed there would be flooding on the other side of the snowfall so I immediately notified the police.’

‘Very quick-witted of you,’ remarked Harrison. ‘But why the police?’

‘Standard instructions, sir,’ said MacAllister stolidly.

‘Did you take further steps?’

‘Yes, sir. I went to the scene of the break in the cable. It was snowing quite heavily as I set out and conditions became worse as I proceeded. When I arrived at the break it was snowing very heavily – something like a blizzard. On my truck I had a spotlight but there was too much back reflection from the falling snow to show how high the blockage in the Gap was. I also investigated the flow of the river and found it to be minimal. I judged the situation serious enough to telephone the police again.’

‘And what was the reaction from the police?’

‘They noted the facts as I gave them, sir.’

‘Nothing more?’

‘They told me nothing more.’

‘You say you could not tell the height of the blockage. Obviously you could not tell the depth – how far back it extended into the Gap?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Did you take steps to find out?’

‘Not at that time. It was snowing heavily and it was dark. To investigate in those conditions would have been most dangerous. I would not climb up there myself, nor would I
send anyone else. I judged it better to wait until daylight when we could see what we were doing.’

Harrison looked at Smithers. ‘It appears from the evidence of Mr MacAllister that this was the first occasion that anyone outside Hukahoronui had any inkling of trouble.’ He switched his gaze to Crowell who was sitting next to Rickman and amended his statement. ‘Or anyone who did something constructive about it, that is. Have you any questions, Mr Smithers?’

‘No, Mr Chairman. But I think the witness ought to be congratulated on the sensible steps he took – especially his quickness in passing on news of a potentially hazardous situation.’

‘I concur.’ Harrison turned to MacAllister. ‘To what time does your evidence take us?’

‘I made the second call to the police at three-thirty on the Sunday morning.’

‘Thank you. You may step down, Mr MacAllister, with the knowledge that you have done your duty well.’

MacAllister left the witness chair, and Harrison said, ‘I think it is time to get back to what happened in Hukahoronui after the lights were extinguished. We have just heard of a fall of snow which blocked the Hukahoronui Gap. I would like to hear Dr McGill’s professional views on that.’

McGill rose, walked to the witness chair, and set his briefcase on the floor. Harrison said, ‘You were present in the lobby of the Hotel D’Archiac when the lights went out?’

‘Yes, sir. As Mr Cameron said, there was a lot of confusion at that time. Mr Ballard was trying to talk to Mr Crowell and had difficulty in doing so because of the actions of Mr Charles Peterson. I went to his aid and it was about then that the lights went out. Mr Ballard said that the telephone had also gone dead.’

‘Did you
hear
the snow falling into the Gap?’

‘No. There was too much noise in the hotel.’

‘So what happened?’

‘The management of the hotel got busy and provided light. There were candles and kerosene lanterns ready for use. I was told that a breakdown of electricity supply was not uncommon, and there had been a similar occurrence only the previous month. Everybody took it as a matter of course. I asked about the dead telephone but no one seemed worried about that, either. The dance was over, anyway, so everybody went home.’

‘Including you?’

‘Yes. I went home with Mr Ballard and went to bed.’

McGill was woken from a sound sleep by Ballard. He awoke to darkness and automatically flicked at the switch of the bed-side lamp, but nothing happened. It was then he remembered about the power failure. Ballard was a deeper shadow in the darkness. McGill said, ‘What time is it?’

‘Five-thirty. Cameron just rang up with a funny story. It seems that one of his men, Jack Stevens, left early this morning to go to Christchurch to see his mother. He says he can’t get out of the valley.’

‘Why not?’

‘He says the Gap is closed off with snow. He says he can’t get through.’

‘What sort of car does he have?’

‘A Volkswagen.’

‘Well, it’s not surprising, is it? Look at what happened to those two Americans the other day. Is it still snowing?’

‘Very heavily.’

‘Well, there you are. It’s probably been snowing all night. I couldn’t guarantee to get through myself with a Land-Rover.’

‘According to Cameron, Jack says it’s not like that. He’s talking of a wall of snow so high he can’t see the top. I told Cameron to bring him here.’

McGill grunted. ‘Light that candle on the dressing-table, will you?’

Ten minutes later he was saying, ‘You’re sure, now. This is not just a deep drift across the road?’

‘I’ve told you it’s not,’ said Stevens. ‘It’s a bloody great wall of snow.’

‘I think I’d better go and look at it,’ said McGill.

Ballard said, ‘I’ll come with you.’ He looked at the telephone and then at Cameron. ‘If there’s no power how did you manage to ring me?’

Stevens said, ‘The exchange has a bank of batteries and an emergency diesel generator to top them up. We’re all right for local calls.’

McGill nodded. ‘Whatever happened at the Gap must have taken out the electricity cables and the telephone lines both.’ He picked up a heavy anorak. ‘Let’s get going.’

‘I’ll come, too,’ said Cameron.

‘No,’ said McGill. ‘I’ve just been handed an idea. Do you have diesel generators at the mine?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then you see that they’re in working order. I have a notion that we’re going to need power before long.’

‘That means me,’ said Stevens. ‘I’m the mine electrician.’ He winked at Cameron. ‘Do I get double time for Sunday work?’

Ballard left to put on ski pants and an anorak and then he joined McGill in the garage. He got behind the wheel of the Land-Rover and pushed the self-starter; it whined but the engine did not fire. ‘She’s cold,’ he said as he pushed again. He tried several times but still the engine did not take. ‘Confound the bloody thing.’

‘Take it easy,’ said McGill. ‘You’ve flooded her. Wait a couple of minutes.’ He pulled the anorak about him and then put on gloves. ‘What’s between you and Charlie Peterson? Last night he acted like a bull moose in rutting season.’

‘It’s an old story,’ said Ballard. ‘Not worth repeating.’

‘I think I’d better know. Look, Ian: the Petersons are forty per cent of the town council and that fool of a mayor, Houghton, will do whatever John Peterson tells him to do.’

‘John’s all right,’ said Ballard.

‘Maybe. But Eric is steamed up about the mine and he hates your guts. As for Charlie – I don’t know. There seems to be something else sticking in
his
craw. What did you do? Take away his girl or something like that?’

‘Of course not.’

‘If an old quarrel is getting in the way of co-operation with the council I’d better know about it. Charlie did enough damage last night.’

‘It goes back a long way.’

‘So tell,’ said McGill. ‘The snow in the Gap won’t go away if what Stevens says is true. We have the time.’

‘I never knew my father,’ said Ballard. ‘I was born in the January of 1939 in England, and I was brought here as a babe in arms. Something else also happened in ‘39.’

‘The war?’

‘That’s it. My father had split with old Ben and he decided to leave England and farm here. He bought the land and then the war came and he joined the army. He was in the Western Desert with the New Zealand Division and I didn’t see him to recognize until he came back in 1943 when I was four years old. My mother wanted him to stay – a lot of the men who came back in ‘43 refused to return to active service – and there was a bit of a quarrel between him and my mother. In the end it was academic because
he was killed in the avalanche here. I saw it happen – and that’s all I got to know of my father.’

‘Not a lot.’

‘No. It hit my mother hard and she turned a bit peculiar. Not that she went round the bend or anything like that. Just peculiar.’

‘Neurotic?’

‘I suppose you could call it that.’

‘What form did it take?’

Ballard stared past the whirling snowflakes eddying in the wind beyond the open garage doors. ‘I think you could say she became over-protective as far as I was concerned.’

‘Was that what Charlie meant when he said she wouldn’t let you out in the snow for fear you’d catch cold?’

‘Something like that.’

‘He made another crack about you wouldn’t go on a slope steeper than a billiard table.’

Ballard sighed. ‘That was it. It was made worse because my mother was the schoolteacher here. She tried to run the farm herself but she couldn’t, so she sold off most of the land to old Peterson, just keeping the bit the house was on. To earn a living she took the job of schoolmistress. She was qualified for it. But there I was – in the middle. Over-protected and regarded as a teacher’s pet into the bargain.’

‘“Don’t go near the water until you learn how to swim,”’ quoted McGill.

‘You don’t know how true that was, Mike.’ There was an edge of bitterness in Ballard’s voice. ‘Like all kids everywhere we had our swimming hole over by the bluff behind the Petersons’ store. All the kids could swim well except me – all I could do was dog-paddle in the shallows and if my mother had known about that she’d have given me hell.’

He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to McGill who produced a lighter. Inhaling smoke, he said, ‘I was twelve when it happened. It was in the spring and Alec Peterson and I were down by the river. Alec was the fourth of the Peterson brothers. There was a lot of melt water coming down from the mountains – the river was full and flowing fast and the water was bloody cold, but you know what kids are. I dipped in and out of the shallows – more out than in – but Alec went farther out. He was tough for a ten-year-old, and a strong swimmer.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ said McGill. ‘He got into trouble.’

‘I think he got cramp,’ said Ballard. ‘Anyway, he let out a yell as he was swept out into the main stream. I knew I wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting him out, but I knew that river. It swirled around the bluff and on the other side there was an eddy where anything floating usually came ashore. It was common knowledge among the kids that it was a good place to collect firewood. So I belted across the bluff, past the Peterson store as fast as I could run.’

He drew on the cigarette in a long inhalation. ‘I was right. Alec came inshore and I was able to wade in and grab him. But on his way around the bluff he’d bashed his head on a rock. His skull was cracked and his brains were leaking out and he was stone dead.’

McGill blew out his breath. ‘Nasty! But I don’t see how you could be blamed for anything.’

‘Don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you. Two other people heard Alec when he yelled but they were too far away to do anything. And they saw me running like hell. Afterwards they said they’d seen me running away and leaving Alec. The two witnesses were Alec’s brothers – Charlie and Eric.’

McGill whistled. ‘Now I’m beginning to see.’

‘They made my life a misery for the next four years. I went through hell, Mike. It wasn’t just the Petersons – they set all the other kids against me. Those were the loneliest years I’ve ever spent. I think I’d have gone nuts if it hadn’t been for Turi’s son Tawhaki.’