The Snow Tiger / Night of Error Page 15

  ‘Therefore the foundation doesn’t have to pay the tax.’

  ‘Precisely. But it was a near-run thing. For one thing, the government changed the law and Ben squeezed in just under the deadline. For another he died just two weeks after the seven years were up. In fact, he nearly didn’t make it at all. Do you remember him coming to see you just before you came to New Zealand?’

  ‘Yes. It was when he offered me the job in Hukahoronui.’

  ‘The effort nearly killed him,’ said Stenning. ‘The next day he took to his bed and never left it again.’

  ‘He sent me his stick,’ said Ballard. ‘I had a bad leg at the time. He said he wouldn’t need the stick again.’

  ‘He didn’t.’ Stenning looked at the sky contemplatively. ‘It was very important to Ben that he should see you at that time. The breaking of your leg was a minor disaster – you couldn’t go to see him, so the mountain had to go to Mahomet. It was so important to him that he put at risk a very large sum of money – and more beside.’

  Ballard frowned. ‘I don’t see how it could have been important. All he did was to twist my arm into taking the job at Hukahoronui – and look how that’s turned out.’ His voice was bitter.

  ‘An avalanche wasn’t part of Ben’s plans – but it came in useful.’ Stenning laughed as he saw the bafflement on Ballard’s face. ‘You think I’m talking in riddles? Never mind; all will be made clear. Let us look at the charitable foundation. Ben gave it all his personal fortune except what he needed to live on until his death, which wasn’t much. Ben was not a man to flaunt prestige symbols; he had no Rolls Royce, for example. His needs were few and his life austere. But the foundation got a lot of money.’

  ‘I could see how it might.’

  ‘It does good work. The money or, rather, the interest on the money, supports several laboratories working mostly in the fields of mining safety and health. Very good and necessary work, indeed.’

  ‘My God!’ said Ballard in astonishment. ‘Do the trustees know how the Ballard Group works? Every safety regulation is normally bent, or broken if they think they can get away with it. That’s like giving with one hand and taking with the other.’

  Stenning nodded. ‘That perturbed Ben, but there was nothing he could do about it at the time for reasons you shall see. Now let us take a look at the trustees. There are five.’ He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘There’s your uncle Edward, your cousin Frank, Lord Brockhurst, Sir William Bendell and myself. I am the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Ballard Foundation.’

  ‘I’m surprised that two of the family are trustees. From what Ben said the last time I saw him he had no great regard for them.’

  ‘Ben made them trustees for tactical reasons. You’ll see what I mean when I come to the nub. You’re right, of course, in your assessment of Ben’s attitude to the family. He had four sons, one of whom died here in New Zealand, and the other three turned out in a way he couldn’t stomach. He had no great regard for any of his grandchildren, either, except one.’ Stenning jabbed forward a thin forefinger. ‘You.’

  ‘He had funny ways of showing it,’ said Ballard wryly.

  ‘He’d seen how his sons had turned out and he knew that whatever else he was good at he was not a good father. So he saw to your education and left you strictly alone. He watched you, of course, and he liked what he saw. Now consider – what could Ben do a few years ago when he contemplated what was likely to happen to his personal fortune? He wouldn’t give it to his family whom he didn’t like, would he?’

  ‘Not on the face of it.’

  ‘No,’ said Stenning. ‘Anyway, as Ben saw it they already had enough. In all honesty, could he give it to you? How old were you then?’

  ‘Seven years ago? Twenty-eight.’

  Stenning leaned back. ‘I rather think that when Ben and I first talked about setting this thing up you were twenty-six. Just a fledgling, Ian. Ben couldn’t see himself putting so much money and power – and money is power – into the hands of one so young. Besides, he wasn’t too sure of you. He thought you were immature for your years. He also thought your mother had something to do with that.’

  ‘I know. He was scathing about her at our last meeting.’

  ‘So he set up the Ballard Foundation. And he had to do two things: he had to make sure that he retained essential control – and he had to live for seven years. He did both. And he watched you like a hawk because he wanted to see how you turned out.’

  Ballard grimaced. ‘Did I come up to expectations?’

  ‘He never found out,’ said Stenning. ‘He died before the Hukahoronui experiment was completed.’

  Ballard stared at him. ‘Experiment! What experiment?’

  ‘You were being tested,’ said Stenning. ‘And this is how it went. You were now thirty-five; you were more than competent at any job you’d been given, and you knew how to handle men. But Ben had a feeling that you have a soft centre and he discovered a way to find out if this was indeed so.’ He paused. ‘I gather that you and the Peterson family have never got on too well together.’

  ‘An understatement,’ said Ballard.

  Stenning’s face was firm. ‘Ben told me that the Petersons had walked all over you when you were a boy. He sent you to Hukahoronui to see if the same thing would happen.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ Ballard was suddenly angry. ‘I knew he had a power complex, but who the hell did he think he was? God? And what the devil was it all for?’

  ‘You can’t be as naive as that,’ said Stenning. ‘Look at the composition of the Board of Trustees.’

  ‘All right; I’m looking. Two Ballards, yourself and two others. What about it?’

  ‘This about it. Old Brockhurst, Billy Bendell and I are all old friends of Ben. We had to have two of the family on the board so they wouldn’t smell a rat. If they had suspected what Ben was up to they’d have found a way to shove their oar in and wreck Ben’s plan. Any half-way criminal lawyer could have found a way of torpedoing the Foundation before Ben died. But for seven years the three of us have been playing the Ballards on a length of line so the boat wouldn’t be rocked. We’ve been playing along with the two Ballards on the board, only forcing our hand in things which didn’t matter too much to them. They think it’s going to continue in this way – but it’s not.’

  ‘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 b
y 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.

  THE HEARING

  FOURTH DAY

  EIGHTEEN

  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 li
ps 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.’