The Snow Tiger / Night of Error (17 page)

‘I don’t see what this has got to do with me.’

Stenning said evenly, ‘Ben wanted you on the Board of Trustees.’

Ballard gaped at him. ‘So?’

‘So it’s arranged like this. The board is self-perpetuating. If a member retires there is a vote to elect his replacement and – this is important – the retiring member has a vote. Brockhurst is nearly eighty and has only held on to please Ben. When he retires you’ll have his vote, you’ll have Billy Bendell’s vote, and you’ll have my vote – and that’s a majority and there’s nothing the Ballards can do about it.’

Ballard was silent for a long time. Presently he said, ‘This is all very well, but I’m not an administrator, at least, not of the trustee kind. I suppose there’d be an honorarium, but I have a living to earn. You’re offering me a job for a retired business man. I don’t want to run a charitable fund, no matter how big.’

Stenning shook his head sadly. ‘You still don’t get the point. Ben set up the foundation for one reason and one reason only – to prevent his fortune from being dissipated and to keep the Ballard Group intact but out of the hands of his sons.’ He took an envelope from his pocket. ‘I have here the share quotations of the companies in the Ballard Group as at the middle of last week.’

He extracted a sheet of paper from the envelope. ‘It’s astonishing what can be put on to a small sheet of paper like this.’ He bent his head. ‘The total value of the shares is two hundred and thirty-two million pounds. The holdings of the Ballard family – that is your uncles and all your cousins – is about fourteen million pounds. The holding of the Ballard
Foundation is forty-one million pounds, and the Foundation is by far the largest shareholder.’

He slipped the paper back into the envelope. ‘Ian, who-ever can swing most votes on the Board of Trustees controls the Ballard Foundation, and whoever controls the Foundation controls the Ballard Group of companies. For seven years we’ve been waiting for you to come into your inheritance.’

Ballard felt as though the wind had been knocked from him. He stared blindly into the shimmering pool and knew that the dazzle in his eyes did not come only from the sunlight reflected from water. That wonderful, egotistical, crazy old man! He rubbed his eyes and was aware of wetness. Stenning had been saying something. ‘What was that?’

‘I said there’s a snag,’ said Stenning.

‘I suppose it’s inevitable.’

‘Yes.’ A fugitive smile chased across Stenning’s face. ‘Ben knew he was dying. Two days before he died he extracted a promise from me to come out here and see the results of the Hukahoronui experiment – to see if the Petersons were still walking over you. As Ben’s friend – and his lawyer – I feel bound to honour his last wish and to do what he would want to do himself were he alive.’

‘So it’s not settled.’

‘I’ve been reading the newspaper accounts of the Inquiry with great interest. You’ve been putting up a good fight, Ian, but it seems to me that the Petersons are still walking over you. Ben considered that the man who cannot defend himself is not the man to control the Ballard Group – and I must say I tend to agree with him. The exercise of so much power demands steel in a man.’

‘That’s the second shock you’ve handed me today,’ said Ballard softly.

‘Not that I’m going on newspaper reports,’ said Stenning. I’m too much of a lawyer to believe all I read. You’ll get a
fair judgment, Ian; but out of respect for Ben it must be an honest one.’

‘And you are my judge. My sole judge?’

Stenning inclined his head. ‘Ben relied on me a lot, but the last task he set me is the hardest burden I have had to bear. Still, I can’t run away from it.’

‘No,’ said Ballard pensively. ‘I don’t suppose you can.’ He thought of his own eagerness to escape from Hukahoronui when he was a boy of sixteen. The urge to run away from the oppressions of the Petersons had been overwhelming. ‘I’d like to go away and think about this for a while.’

‘Very understandable,’ said Stenning. ‘Will I see you at lunch?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ballard stood up and picked up his towel. ‘Mike McGill will be around. You can ask him about the avalanche.’

He walked across the lawn to his room.

When, at breakfast the following morning, Stenning announced his intention of attending the Inquiry, Ballard said, ‘That might not be easy. There’s a great deal of interest and there are queues for the public seats. You can sit with me, if you like.’

‘I doubt if that would be advisable,’ said Stenning. ‘The news of that would get back to your uncles very quickly. But it’s all right, Ian. I telephoned Dr Harrison on Saturday before I went to sleep and he has found me a place.’ He smiled. ‘A courtesy to a visiting lawyer.’

Sharp!
thought Ballard.
Very sharp!
He said, ‘If you are there at all the news might get back to the family.’

Stenning cut a slice of grilled bacon in two. ‘I doubt it. I’m not known in New Zealand and you tell me none of the family is here.’

At ten minutes to ten Ballard was in his seat and running through his notes. He saw Stenning come in preceded by an usher who showed him to a seat in the distinguished visitors’ section. Stenning sat down and viewed the hall with interest, and his eyes passed Ballard without a flicker. He produced a notebook and a pen from his briefcase and laid them on the table before him.

As Ballard returned to his notes a shadow fell athwart the table and he looked up to see Rickman. ‘May I have a word with you, Mr Ballard?’

Ballard nodded towards the rostrum. ‘It will have to be a quick word. We’ll be starting soon.’

‘This won’t take long.’ Rickman leaned on the edge of the table and bent down. ‘Mr Crowell was most annoyed on Friday at your treatment of him on the witness stand, but he’s had the weekend to think it over and now he’s in a more considerate frame of mind.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Ballard, keeping his face straight.

‘You may not know it but Mr Crowell is about to be … er … translated to a higher station. He is taking the chairmanship of New Zealand Mineral Holdings, the parent company of the Hukahoronui Mining Company. It’s been in the wind for quite some time.’

‘That will be nice for him.’

‘He feels that to do the double job – chairmanship of both companies – would be too much for him. Consequently the chairmanship of the mining company will fall vacant.’

‘Interesting,’ said Ballard neutrally. He said no more. He wanted Rickman to do the running.

‘You know that assays at the mine before the avalanche showed a highly enhanced gold enrichment, and the board decided to float a share issue to capitalize extensive development work. Whoever is appointed chairman will be in a most favourable position. A considerable number of stock options will go with the job – that is, an option to buy so many shares at par.’

‘I know what an option is.’

Rickman spread his hands. ‘Well, then. When the news of the increased gold values is released the share price will inevitably go up. Anyone with options will be in a position to make a lot of money.’

‘Isn’t that illegal? Inside deals are frowned on.’

‘I assure you that the way it will be done will be perfectly legal,’ said Rickman smoothly.

‘I’ll take your word for that, Mr Rickman. You’re the lawyer and I’m not. But I don’t see what this has to do with me.’

‘As chairman of the parent company, Mr Crowell will have a great deal to say in the appointment of the chairman of the mining company. He feels that you have qualities that make you suitable for the position should you wish to be considered as a candidate.’

‘For what consideration?’ Ballard asked bluntly.

‘Come, now, Mr Ballard. We’re both men of the world and we both know what we’re talking about.’

‘I detect the hand of Uncle Steve,’ said Ballard. ‘He jerks a string in Sydney and Crowell jumps.’ He pointed to the empty witness chair. ‘Crowell sat there on Friday and I roasted him to a turn. Now he offers me the chairmanship of the company from which he’s just fired me as managing director. What sort of a man does that make Crowell, Mr Rickman?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you can count me in your list of candidates.’

Rickman frowned. ‘It’s a position few young men would turn down – especially in view of the evidence which may be forthcoming presently at this Inquiry – evidence particularly damaging to yourself. The effect of that evidence
could
be minimized.’ He paused. ‘Or vice versa.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be a man of your world, Mr Rickman, or that of Crowell. I’m a plain-speaking man and I’ll tell you what I think. First you attempt to bribe me, and now you threaten me. I told Frank Ballard that neither would work. Now I’m telling you the same. Get lost, Mr Rickman.’

Rickman’s face darkened. ‘If I had a witness to that little speech I’d have you in court for slander.’

‘You’re making damned sure you don’t have a witness,’ retorted Ballard. ‘Why have you been whispering?’

Rickman made an ejaculation of disgust, turned his back and walked to his seat where he held a rapid conversation with Crowell. Ballard looked at them for a moment and then turned his attention to the seats reserved for witnesses. Mike McGill raised his eyebrows in silent interrogation, and Ballard winked at him.

He had told Mike in confidence why Stenning had flown to New Zealand in such a hurry, and McGill had choked over his beer. ‘Two hundred and thirty-two million pounds … !’ He set down his glass and gazed into space, his lips moving silently. ‘That’s over six hundred million bucks – even by American standards that’s not puny.’

‘It’s not mine,’ said Ballard drily. ‘It belongs to the shareholders.’

‘That may be, but you’ll control it. You’ll be able to steer it wherever you like. That’s a hell of a lot of power.’

‘I’m not a trustee yet. It’s Stenning’s decision.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said McGill sharply. ‘It’s your decision. All you have to do is to steamroller the Petersons. Stenning told you as much. My God, but that grandfather of yours must have been a hellion in his time. He could think up the nicest tricks.’

‘Steamroller the Petersons,’ repeated Ballard. ‘Liz might not think a hell of a lot of that.’

‘The world well lost for a woman – is that what you think?’ McGill snorted. ‘Well, Stenning has made the issue quite clear. If he’d spelled it out in words of one syllable and had them tattooed on your chest he couldn’t have been clearer. You’ve got to nail the Petersons’ hides to the barn door, and you have to do it publicly at the Inquiry. That’s your last chance.’

Ballard was acid. ‘And just how am I going to do that?’

McGill shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Up to the time of the first avalanche they were pussyfooting around with local politics
and they might come in for a bit of censure on that score. But after that they didn’t put a foot wrong. They did all the right things at the right time and they’ll get the credit for it. Charlie even volunteered to go on the slope with me after the avalanche when I thought there might be a second fall. That took guts. There’s no faulting the Petersons from here on in.’

‘So there’s no steamroller.’

McGill laughed – a humourless bark. ‘Oh, sure there is. There are going to be questions asked about your decision about the mine. Eric made the right suggestion and you turned it down. Over fifty people died, Ian. There’s a steamroller, all right; but the Petersons are driving it, and they’re going to trundle it right over you.’

Eric Peterson was giving evidence.

‘It must have been somewhere between half past six and seven o’clock on the Sunday morning when my brother, John, came and woke me. With him were Mr Ballard and Dr McGill. They said there’d been an avalanche. At first I didn’t believe them. I’d heard nothing, and according to the scare story the town would be blotted out if they were right. But John said the Gap was blocked and that no one could get in or out.’

He shrugged. ‘I still didn’t really believe it, but John was very convincing. Then he said that if the Gap could be blocked like that then perhaps Dr McGill was right about the danger to the town from the west slope. My brother got busy on the telephone and called an emergency council meeting. It was getting on towards eight o’clock by then and beginning to get light. We held the meeting in the Supermarket.’

There was no cold glare from the overhead fluorescent tubes that Sunday morning. Two oil lamps gave a warmer glow which paled as the sky grew brighter. There was no sunlight yet; the sun had to rise high to clear the eastern slope of the valley and to burn off the mist which hung heavily.

Eric Peterson stoked up the old-fashioned pot-bellied stove with billets of wood, and commented, ‘I’m glad we didn’t get rid of this relic.’ He jerked his thumb towards the back of the store. ‘Back there I have two thousand gallons of fuel oil that’s good for damn all. The central heating system needs two electric motors to drive it.’

‘What’s keeping Matt?’ asked Mrs Samson fretfully.

‘He’ll be along,’ said John Peterson. ‘You know Matt – slow but reliable.’

Eric put the lid back on to the stove. Then there are the fridges and the cold room, all with no power. A good thing this didn’t happen in summer.’

‘For Christ’s sake!’ said John irritably. ‘Use your bloody brains for once. How in hell could it happen in summer?’

Eric paused in surprise. ‘I was forgetting. What I meant was …’

‘To the devil with what you meant. If you can’t talk sense, shut up!’

Tempers were becoming uncertain. McGill said calmly, ‘I think we ought to begin without waiting for Mr Houghton. We can fill him in later.’

‘No need,’ said Phil Warrick. ‘He’s here now.’

Houghton walked up the aisle towards the group around the stove. ‘I know we agreed to meet this morning, but this is beyond a joke. Do you know the time?’

John Peterson raised his hand. ‘There’s been an avalanche in the Gap, Matt. It’s blocked completely. There’s so much snow in there you can’t see the top.’

‘You mean we can’t get out?’

‘Not in cars,’ said McGill.

Houghton looked about uncertainly, and John Peterson said, ‘Sit down, Matt. When there’s been one avalanche there can be another. I suggest we apologize to Dr McGill and listen to his suggestions.’

‘No apology needed – and here’s my first suggestion.’ McGill surveyed the small group. ‘There aren’t enough of us here. I want more men brought in; strong men who don’t scare easy. And women, too; but no shrinking violets – I want the bossy kind.’ Three people started to speak at once and he held up his hand. ‘Mrs Samson, will you act as secretary. Take down the names of those who are suggested.’

Eric said, ‘There’s paper and pencil at the cash desk. I’ll get it.’

Ten minutes later McGill said, ‘That ought to be enough. Mrs Samson, will you go out immediately, round up all those people and see they get here as soon as possible.’

She got up. ‘They’ll be here.’

Ballard gave her a note. ‘Give that to Joe Cameron. I think you’ll find him at the mine, not at his house.’

Mrs Samson left. McGill looked outside at the thin light. ‘The first thing that should be done is to let outside know what’s happening here. As soon as it gets light enough I want men to climb out; two teams of two men each, for insurance. I’ll write letters for them – we don’t want the information garbled.’

Ballard said, ‘You’ll need a secretary for that stuff. You can have Betty from the mine.’

McGill nodded shortly. ‘If what comes down the hill is a powder avalanche – which it might be – then this store is going to go.’

‘You think it might?’ asked Eric.

‘I’m certain, now the trees are gone.’

‘For God’s sake!’ snapped Eric. ‘Every time I ask a question he blames me for cutting trees.’

McGill hit the side of a display stand with the flat of his hand. It made a noise like a pistol shot and Warrick jumped visibly. ‘Now listen to me,’ said McGill in a harsh voice. ‘We’ll all get on better if there are no recriminations. I wasn’t blaming anybody; I was just stating the obvious.’

Ballard chipped in, and pointed to the door. ‘There’ll be a lot of people coming in just now, and we’re going to tell them they’re facing disaster. They’d better not find out that the town council has had the information for nearly twenty-four hours and has been sitting on it. Got the picture, Eric?’

John’s voice was cold. ‘I told you once, Eric: if you can’t talk sense then shut up.’ He nodded to McGill. ‘Go on.’

‘All right. Accept that this place is likely to go. I want all these shelves stripped and the food taken to a safe place.’ His eyes shifted and settled on Phil Warrick. ‘Could you organize that, Mr Warrick?’

‘Sure,’ said Warrick. ‘But where’s a safe place?’

‘Turi Buck’s house for a starter – I’ll let you know of others later. Begin with staples – leave the chocolate biscuits until last. And if you can find some empty drums you can drain off fuel oil from the tank that Eric mentioned. If we’re hit we’ll need heat as well as food.’

‘Right,’ said Warrick with decision. Ballard thought that Warrick was a good man as long as he had to take orders and not give them.

‘Don’t forget the stock-rooms at the back,’ said John Peterson.

Houghton said, ‘That’s all right for the food, but what about the people? We can’t put the whole population in Turi Buck’s house. I think we all ought to go up the east slope.’

‘That’s out for a start,’ said McGill. He leaned forward. ‘I hope it doesn’t happen, Mr Houghton, but if a powder avalanche comes down the west slope it will cross the valley bottom and go clean across the river. I don’t know how far it will go up the east slope.’ Houghton looked sceptical, and McGill tapped him on the knee. ‘It will be moving very fast, Mr Houghton. Not only faster than you can run, but faster than you can drive a car.’

‘Is that your guess, McGill?’ asked Eric.

‘That’s my estimate. The snow in the avalanche at the Gap was a bit too dry for my liking. The drier it is the more likely it is to form a powder avalanche, and the drier it is the faster it moves. What’s more, the more the temperature drops the drier it will get.’ McGill nodded to the window. ‘The temperature is dropping very quickly.’

Warrick said, ‘If the temperature is dropping what about the mist out there? You’d think it would freeze out of the air.’

McGill frowned, then said, ‘Take it from me the temperature is falling. It’s dropped a degree and a half since I got up this morning.’

‘So where do the people go?’ reiterated Houghton.

‘We’ll know better when I look at the map we had yesterday.’ There was a movement at the entrance to the Super market, and McGill said to Warrick, ‘Go up there and keep those folk corralled for a while. We’ve got to talk to them all at once. Let me know when they’re all here.’

‘All right,’ said Warrick.

‘And don’t tell them a damn thing,’ said McGill. ‘We don’t want panic. Just say they’ll know everything in – ’ He cocked his head and looked past Houghton at John Peterson – ’fifteen minutes.’ John nodded.

Warrick went away, and Eric said, ‘Of course, there’s a perfect place to put the people. What about the mine? It’s like a bloody big air raid shelter. It’s right inside the mountain.’

‘Hey, that’s a thought!’ said Houghton.

‘I’m not sure it’s a good one.’ McGill dropped his chin into his hand. ‘The portal is right at the bottom of the slope and any avalanche is going to go right over it.’

‘That’s all right,’ said John Peterson. ‘That’s why they build snow galleries over roads. I’ve seen them in Switzerland. The snow goes straight over the top.’

‘And if, as you said, most of the snow will go right across the valley, then there’ll be no trouble in getting out when it’s over,’ said Houghton.

‘That’s when I was talking about a powder avalanche,’ said McGill. ‘But supposing the temperature starts to rise, then it won’t be a powder avalanche. It will be slower and wetter and a hell of a lot of snow will pile up at the bottom of the slope. And that blocks the mine portal. Wet snow sets like concrete after an avalanche.’

‘The mine has the equipment,’ said John Peterson. ‘If they can mine rock, they can mine snow – or ice. They could be out an hour after it’s over.’

McGill stared at him. ‘I don’t think we’re on the same wave-length. Do you know how much snow there is on the west slope?’

‘I don’t suppose I do – not really.’

‘Well, I’ve done some figuring, and my estimate is a million tons – plus.’

Eric burst out laughing, and Houghton said flatly, ‘Impossible!’

‘What’s so goddamn impossible about it? You’ve got nearly two thousand acres up there covered with over six feet of snow. Ten inches of new-fallen snow equals an inch of rain – but the rain runs off while the snow stays. But that snow up there has been compressed so I reckon you have the equivalent of about eight inches of water lying up there – maybe more. You don’t need a goddamn slide rule to work out the weight of that lot. And it’s been snowing like crazy for the last thirty-six hours, so I’m likely to be underestimating.’

There was silence. McGill rubbed the side of his jaw with a rasping sound. ‘What do you think, Ian?’

‘As far as the mine goes, I’m more worried about the powder avalanche. From what I’ve seen of your mathematical description of a powder avalanche I’d say you are using fluid dynamics.’

McGill nodded. ‘That’s right.’

‘I thought so. Well, if you have a fluid flowing past the portal at the speeds you’ve been describing you’ll get some weird effects inside the mine. It’ll be like blowing across the top of a beer bottle, but more so.’

‘Suction,’ said McGill. ‘Goddamn it – it might pull all the air right out. I hadn’t thought of that one.’

‘I’ll talk to Cameron,’ said Ballard. ‘Perhaps we can build a baffle or gate of some kind.’

‘Let’s leave it at that,’ said McGill. ‘It’s something to think of if we run out of other places to go. Let’s move on to the next step. Suppose there is an avalanche and someone gets caught. What do we do about it?’

‘There won’t be much anyone can do,’ said Houghton. ‘Not from the way you’ve been talking. They’ll be dead.’

‘Not necessarily, and it’s a defeatist assumption no one must make. Freakish things happen during avalanches. Now, what we’ve got to get over to these people here is the necessity for speed in rescue once we’ve been hit. We have to tell them what to do.’

‘You have to tell them what to do,’ said John Peterson.

‘I accept that,’ said McGill grimly.

Someone walked along the aisle from the entrance. Ballard turned his head and saw a uniformed policeman walking towards them. A sudden inspiration hit him and he smote McGill on the back. ‘Radio!’ he said. ‘Pye has a transmitter – he must have.’

Arthur Pye stopped. ‘Morning, John. What’s the trouble? Ma Samson said you wanted to see me on the double.’

Ballard cut in. ‘Arthur, you have a radio transmitter, don’t you?’

Pye turned. ‘Yes, Mr Ballard, normally I do. But not right now. It’s been acting up a bit, so it went in for servicing on Friday. I’ll have it back tomorrow.’

McGill groaned. ‘It’s a flaming conspiracy!’

‘What’s going on?’ demanded Pye.

Matt Houghton opened his mouth to speak, but John Peterson put up his hand and explained the problem concisely. Pye regarded McGill with interest. ‘This true?’

McGill nodded. ‘That’s how the power and phone lines were cut. Has anyone else got a transmitter? No radio hams?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Pye. ‘Maybe one of the scouts. I’ll ask Bobby Fawcett.’ He turned to John Peterson. ‘What’s being done about this?’

John indicated the growing crowd at the entrance. ‘We’re getting together some of the steadier people. I’ll tell them the score, and McGill will advise on what to do about it.’ He shrugged. ‘He’s the only one who knows.’

‘You’d better do it quickly,’ advised Pye. ‘They’re getting a bit restive.’

John Peterson looked at McGill who nodded. ‘Right. Let’s get to it.’

McGill said to Ballard, ‘Ring up Turi Buck and tell him to prepare to play host to a crowd of kids.’ He stood and joined Peterson and Pye. ‘We’ll be forming an avalanche committee but it’s not going to be a talking shop – not if I can help it.’

‘It won’t be,’ promised Pye.

McGill nodded in appreciation. ‘You’re on it, Mr Pye; and we’d better have a doctor. Now let’s go and break the bad news.’

Eric Peterson said, ‘So my brother told those people that Mrs Samson had brought in. They didn’t believe it at first – not until someone came in from the street and said he couldn’t get through the Gap. Even then they took a lot of convincing that the town was in danger.’ He shrugged. ‘It was just like that first council meeting, but on a bigger scale. Everybody wanted to argue the toss.’