The Snow Tiger / Night of Error (13 page)

‘After the lights went out things got pretty confused,’ said Cameron. He half turned in his chair and spoke to the nurse in a low voice. The nurse got up and poured him a glass of water, and when Cameron took it, his hand was shaking.

Harrison watched him carefully. ‘You’ve been giving evidence for quite a long time, Mr Cameron, and I think you should stand down for the moment. Since we are taking evidence chronologically the next witness should naturally be Mr Crowell. Thank you, Mr Cameron.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Cameron got to his feet painfully, assisted by the male nurse, and hobbled slowly across the hall.

Reed said, ‘Will Mr Crowell come forward?’

A short, stout man got to his feet and walked up to the rostrum with some reluctance. As he sat down he turned his head sideways to look at Rickman, who nodded reassuringly. Reed said, ‘What is your full name?’

Crowell licked his lips nervously, and coughed, ‘Henry James Crowell.’

‘And your occupation, Mr Crowell?’

‘I’m the chairman of several companies, including the Hukahoronui Mining Company.’

Harrison said, ‘Do you own shares in that company?’

‘I have a minority holding, yes.’

‘Mr Ballard was the managing director of that company, was he not?’

‘Yes.’

‘What were his responsibilities?’

Crowell frowned. ‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘Come, Mr Crowell. Surely Mr Ballard had duties which were defined.’

‘Of course, sir. He had the normal duties of a managing director – to see to the total interests of the company under the guidance of the board of directors.’

‘Which was headed by yourself.’

‘That is correct.’

‘You have been listening to evidence relating to a telephone call which you made to Mr Ballard. Did you, in fact, make that call?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I had been away from home and arrived back late on the Saturday night. My secretary had left a list of messages from Mr Ballard to the effect that I should contact him. From the number and tenor of these messages I judged the matter to be urgent, so I telephoned him immediately.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said something about an avalanche. I didn’t quite understand – he was very indistinct.’

‘Didn’t you ask him to explain further?’

‘Yes.’ Crowell’s hands twitched. ‘There was a lot of noise going on at his end – music and so forth. He wasn’t very coherent.’

Harrison regarded him thoughtfully, and then moved his eyes sideways. ‘Yes, Mr Smithers?’

‘Can the witness state whether or not Mr Ballard asked him to contact the Ministry of Civil Defence to warn them of impending danger at Hukahoronui?’

Harrison’s eyes returned to Crowell who wriggled in his seat. ‘He did say something along those lines, but there was a lot of noise on the line. A lot of shouting and screaming.’ He paused. ‘Then I was cut off.’

‘What did you do then?’ asked Harrison.

‘I talked it over with my wife.’

A ripple of amusement passed over the hall. Harrison knocked sharply with his gavel. ‘Did you contact the Ministry of Civil Defence?’

Crowell hesitated. ‘No, sir.’

‘Why not?’

‘I thought it was some sort of practical joke. With that music and uproar on the line … well, I thought …’ His voice tailed away.

‘You thought Mr Ballard was joking?’ queried Harrison.

Both Lyall and Rickman had their hands up. Harrison picked Rickman and nodded. ‘Did you think Mr Ballard was drunk?’ asked Rickman. Lyall grinned and hauled down his hand.

‘I did.’

‘When you said that Mr Ballard was incoherent that was what you meant, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Crowell. He smiled gratefully at Rickman.

‘You must not lead the witness,’ said Harrison mildly.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Chairman.’ Rickman smiled encouragingly at Crowell. ‘Who appointed Mr Ballard as managing director?’

‘The instruction came from London – from a majority shareholder.’

‘You had nothing to do with his appointment, then. Could we say that Mr Ballard was foisted upon you?’

‘As a minority shareholder I didn’t have much say in the matter.’

‘If you had had a say in the matter whom would you have picked as managing director?’

‘Mr Dobbs, who was mine manager.’

‘And who is now dead.’

Crowell bowed his head and said nothing.

‘That is all,’ said Rickman.

‘What did you think of Mr Ballard when you first met him?’ asked Harrison.

Crowell shrugged. ‘I thought he was a personable enough young man – perhaps a little too young for the job.’

‘Did you suspect him of any proclivities towards drunkenness or practical joking?’

‘They did not present themselves – then.’

‘But they did eventually? When?’

‘On that evening, Mr Chairman.’

Harrison sighed, exasperated at Crowell’s woolly-mindedness. ‘But we have heard evidence that Mr Ballard was neither drunk nor playing a practical joke. Why should you not believe what he said on that occasion?’

Crowell shook his head unhappily and looked towards Rickman, whose head was down as he busily scanned a sheet of paper. ‘I don’t know – it was just that it sounded that way.’

‘It has been suggested that Mr Ballard was “foisted” upon you.’ Harrison uttered the word as though it had a nasty taste. ‘Upon his appointment, did you make any complaint of any kind – to anyone?’

‘No.’

Harrison shook his head slowly as he regarded this most unsatisfactory witness. ‘Very well. I have no further questions He looked down from the rostrum. ‘Yes, Mr Ballard?’

‘I would like to ask some questions.’

‘I see that you still have no legal representation. Do you think that wise? You must have heard the saying that the man who argues his own case has a fool for a lawyer.’

Ballard smiled. ‘That may hold good in a law court, but, Mr Chairman, you have repeatedly said that this is not a
court of law. I think I am quite capable of asking my own questions.’

Harrison nodded. ‘Very well, Mr Ballard.’

Ballard looked at Crowell. ‘Mr Crowell, two weeks after the disaster the board suspended me from my duties. Why?’

Rickman’s hand shot up. ‘Objection! What happened two weeks after the incident does not come within the scope of this inquiry.’

‘Mr Rickman has a point,’ said Harrison. ‘I cannot really see that this is helpful.’

Ballard stood up. ‘May I argue the point?’

‘Certainly.’

Ballard picked up a note-pad. ‘I took notes of your remarks when this inquiry began. You ruled that evidence given here may not be used in a future civil action. It seems to me that this inquiry may be the only public hearing possible.’

He turned a page. ‘On the second day Dr McGill said that the death-roll in the disaster was higher than need be. You overruled an objection to that on the grounds that this is not a court of law and the procedure is at your sole discretion.’

He looked up. ‘Mr Chairman, this inquiry is being widely reported in the Press, not only in New Zealand but also in the United Kingdom. Regardless of your findings, the public is going to blame someone for those unnecessary deaths. Now, certain imputations have been made about my character, my drinking habits and a supposed propensity for practical joking which, in my own interests, I cannot allow to pass unchallenged. I ask to be allowed to question Mr Crowell about these matters, and the fact that I was suspended from my duties a fortnight after the disaster certainly seems to me to be a legitimate reason for inquiry.’

Harrison conferred briefly with his two assessors, then said, ‘It is not the wish of this Commission that a man’s reputation be put lightly at stake. You may sit down, Mr Ballard, and continue your questioning of Mr Crowell.’

Rickman said warningly, ‘There may be grounds for appeal here, Mr Chairman.’

‘There may, indeed,’ agreed Harrison tranquilly. ‘You will find the procedure set out in the Commissions of Inquiry Act. Continue, Mr Ballard.’

Ballard sat down. ‘Why was I suspended from my duties, Mr Crowell?’

‘It was a unanimous decision of the board.’

‘That is not exactly answering my question, but we’ll let it pass for the moment. You said in evidence that you had nothing to do with my appointment, that you would rather have chosen another man, and that the instructions came from London. Do you usually take your instructions from London, Mr Crowell?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then where do you take your instructions from?’

‘Why, from …’ Crowell stopped short. ‘I do not take instructions, as you put it, I am chairman of the company.’

‘I see. Do you regard yourself as a sort of dictator?’

‘That is an insulting question.’

‘Maybe you might think so. All the same, I’d like you to answer it.’

‘Of course I’m not a dictator.’

‘You can’t have it both ways,’ said Ballard. ‘Either you take instructions or you do not. Which is it, Mr Crowell?’

‘As chairman I assist the board in making decisions. All decisions are made jointly.’

‘A most democratic process,’ commented Ballard. ‘But the decision to appoint me as managing director was not made jointly by the board, was it, Mr Crowell?’

‘The decision need not be unanimous,’ said Crowell. ‘As you have pointed out, this is a democratic process where the majority rules.’

‘But not so democratic as to be a one man, one vote system. Is it not a fact that he who controls most votes controls the company?’

‘That is the usual system.’

‘And you said in evidence that the instruction to appoint me came from a majority shareholder in London. Is that shareholder a member of the board?’

Crowell twitched nervously. In a low voice he said, ‘No, he is not.’

‘Then is it not a fact that your board of directors has no real power and is thus a democratic sham? Is it not a fact that the power to control the company lies elsewhere? In the City of London?’

‘That is a misreading of the situation,’ said Crowell sullenly.

‘Let us turn from my appointment to my suspension,’ said Ballard. ‘Did the instruction to suspend me also come from London?’

‘It may have done.’

‘Surely you know. You are the chairman of the board.’

‘But not concerned with the day to day running of the company.’

‘No,’ agreed Ballard. ‘That was the function of the managing director. You said so yourself in your evidence. Surely you are not suggesting that I suspended myself?’

Dan Edwards could not contain himself. There was a loud snigger from the Press gallery and Harrison looked up, frowning.

‘You are being ridiculous,’ said Crowell.

Ballard said drily, ‘Any ridiculousness inherent in this situation certainly does not emanate from me. There remains one alternative. Are you suggesting that the suspension of
the managing director was a minor bit of day to day business that was beneath your notice as chairman?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then you will know where the idea of my suspension originated, won’t you?’

‘Now I come to think of it, the instruction for your suspension did come from London.’

‘I see. But that again is not an exact answer to the question. Is it not a fact that you communicated with London because the board is a puppet dancing to strings held in the City of London? Is it not a fact that a suggestion was made – by you – that the company was in danger of being in bad odour because of evidence to be given at this inquiry? And is it not a fact that you intimated that I, as a Johnny-come-lately, was an ideal person to shuffle the responsibility on to, and that it was then that the instruction was given – from London – that I be suspended?’

‘Objection!’ cried Rickman. ‘Mr Ballard cannot lead the witness in this way.’

‘I tend to agree,’ said Harrison. ‘Such a compendium cannot be permitted, Mr Ballard.’

‘I withdraw the question.’ Ballard knew, from the rustle in the Press gallery, that he had made his point where it mattered. ‘I shall return to the telephone conversation between Mr Crowell and myself. When you were cut off, what did you do? Oh yes; you talked it over with your wife, didn’t you? What was the substance of that conversation?’

‘I don’t remember.’ Crowell added irritably, ‘It was late at night and we were both very tired.’

‘When you were cut off, did you attempt to replace the call?’

‘No.’

‘No? Why not?’

‘You heard my evidence. I thought you were drunk.’

‘How long did you think I’d been drunk, Mr Crowell?’ asked Ballard softly.

Crowell looked startled and uncomprehending. ‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘It’s quite a simple question. Please answer it.’