The Snow Tiger / Night of Error Read online

  McGill joined the throng leaving the hall. Ahead he saw the tall figure of Stenning walking next to Ballard. They were not talking to each other and, once through the doorway, they made off in different directions. He smiled and thought that neither of them was giving the Ballard family any grounds for suspicion.

  ‘Dr McGill!’ Someone caught his elbow and he turned to find the Peterson brothers just behind him, first Eric, and then the bulkier figure of Charlie behind. Eric said, ‘I’m glad you said what you did about Johnnie. I’d like to thank you for that.’

  ‘No need,’ said McGill. ‘Credit should be given where it’s due.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Eric a little awkwardly, ‘it was good of you to say so in public – especially when you’re on the other side, so to speak.’

  ‘Now hold on a minute,’ said McGill sharply. ‘I’m a neutral around here – I’m on no one’s side. Come to that, I didn’t know there were sides. This is an inquiry, not a court battle. Isn’t that what Harrison insists?’

  Charlie looked unimpressed. ‘You’re a neutral like I’m the fairy queen. Everybody knows that Ballard and you are in each other’s pockets.’

  ‘Shut up, Charlie!’ said Eric.

  ‘Why the hell should I? Harrison said he wants the truth to come out – but is it? Look at the evidence this morning. Not nearly enough was made of the fact that Ballard made a bad mistake. Why didn’t you prod Lyall into going for him?’

  ‘Oh, Charlie, enough is enough.’ Eric looked at McGill and shrugged expressively.

  ‘Not for me it isn’t,’ said Charlie. ‘All I know is that I used to have three brothers and now I’ve got one – and that bastard killed two of them. What do you want me to do? Stand still while he murders the whole Peterson family?’

  ‘Give it a rest, for Christ’s sake!’ said Eric exasperatedly.

  ‘Fat chance,’ said Charlie, and tapped McGill on the shoulder. ‘Now, Dr Neutral McGill – don’t tell me you won’t be seeing Ballard tonight.’

  ‘I’ll be seeing him,’ said McGill evenly.

  ‘Well, you tell him what I think. Eric made the suggestion of using the mine as a shelter but Ballard turned him down because the mine wasn’t safe. The safety of the mine was Ballard’s responsibility – he was in charge, wasn’t he? And the mine wasn’t safe. In my book that’s criminal irresponsibility and I’m going to see he gets nailed for it. You’re his friend – you tell him that.’ Charlie’s voice rose. ‘You tell him, if I can’t get him for murder I’ll get him for manslaughter.’

  Eric held his arm. ‘Keep your voice down. Don’t make one of your bloody scenes in here.’

  Charlie shook his arm free. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ He stared at McGill with hot eyes. ‘And tell that bloody murdering friend of yours to keep out of my way, because if I ever come across him I’ll tear him apart piece by piece.’

  McGill looked about him. Apart from the three of them the hall was now empty. He said, ‘Threats like that are very unwise. Threatening a witness in this Inquiry could get you into trouble.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Eric. ‘For God’s sake, keep your mouth shut. You talk too much – you always have.’

  ‘I’ll do more than talk before I’m through.’ Charlie’s forefinger bored into McGill’s chest. ‘Tell Ballard that if he so much as looks at Liz again I’ll kill the bastard.’

  ‘Take your goddamn hand off me,’ said McGill softly.

  Eric pulled Charlie away. ‘Don’t start a fight here, you damned fool.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Sorry about that, McGill.’

  ‘Don’t apologize for me,’ shouted Charlie. ‘Christ, Eric, you’re as chicken as everybody else. You go arse-creeping to McGill – the high and mighty Dr Know-it-all-McGill – and thank him kindly for putting in a nice word for the Petersons. What the hell is this? Damn it, you know that he and Ballard are running a cover-up operation that makes Watergate sound like a fairy story. What the hell’s got into you?’

  Eric took a deep breath. ‘Charlie, sometimes I think you’re going out of your mind. Now will you, for God’s sake, shut up? Let’s go and have a beer and cool down.’ He took Charlie by the arm and steered him towards the door.

  Charlie allowed himself to be led away, but twisted his head and shouted to McGill, ‘Don’t forget to tell Ballard. Tell that son of a bitch I’ll have him in jail for ten years.’

  At the hotel Stenning went to his room to clean up. The climate was hotter than he was used to and he felt uncomfortably sticky. His suit was too heavy for the New Zealand summer and he made a mental note to buy a lightweight suit since it seemed that the Inquiry would continue for some time to come.

  He felt better after he had bathed and he sat for a while in his dressing-gown while he made notes of the events of the day, amplifying the hasty scrawls he had made during the Inquiry. He shook his head over the evidence and thought that young Ballard was not in a favourable position; the business of the safety of the mine might go heavily against him should someone try to push the point. He thought about it and decided that Rickman would let it lie; he wouldn’t want to bring up anything that would reflect on the company. Gunn, the union lawyer had gone out of his way to be kind to Ballard while still sticking his knife into the company. Stenning was surprised that the Petersons’ lawyer, Lyall, had not made an issue of it. Perhaps that was to come.

  After a while he dressed and went outside to find Ballard sitting at a table near the pool with an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. As he approached, Ballard caught sight of him and stood up. ‘Miss Peterson, this is Mr Stenning, a visitor from England.’

  Stenning’s white eyebrows lifted as he heard the name, but he merely said, ‘Good evening, Miss Peterson.’

  ‘Have something cooling,’ suggested Ballard.

  Stenning sat down. ‘That would be most welcome. A gin and tonic, please.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Ballard strode away.

  ‘Didn’t I see you at the Huka Inquiry this afternoon?’ asked Liz.

  ‘I was there. I’m a lawyer, Miss Peterson. I’m very interested in your ideas of administrative justice here in New Zealand. Dr Harrison was kind enough to provide me with a place.’

  She fondled the ears of her dog which sat by her chair.

  ‘What’s your impression so far?’

  He smiled, and said with a lawyer’s caution, ‘It’s too early to say. I must read a transcript of the early part of the Inquiry. Tell me, are you related in any way to the Peterson family that is involved?’

  ‘Why, yes. Eric and Charlie are my brothers.’

  ‘Ah!’ Stenning tried to add things up and failed to find an answer, so he repeated his observation. ‘Ah!’

  Liz picked up her Cuba Libre and sipped it while regarding him over the rim of the glass. She said, ‘Have you known Ian Ballard long?’

  ‘We’re fellow guests in the hotel,’ he said, blandly avoiding the question. ‘Have you known him long?’

  ‘All my life – on and off,’ she said. ‘More off than on. There was a big gap in the middle.’ She had noted Stenning’s evasiveness and began to wonder just who he was. ‘That was when he left for England.’

  ‘Then you must have known him when he was a boy in Hukahoronui.’

  ‘I don’t think you need to read a transcript of the Inquiry,’ she said, a little tartly. ‘That wasn’t in evidence today.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I think I read it in a newspaper report.’

  Ballard came back and put a frosted glass in front of Stenning. Liz said, ‘Mr Stenning is being mysterious.’

  ‘Oh! What about?’

  ‘That’s what’s mysterious. I don’t know.’

  Ballard looked at Stenning and raised his eyebrows. Stenning said easily, ‘Miss Peterson is a remarkably sharp young lady, but perhaps she sees mysteries where none exist.’

  Liz smiled, and said, ‘How long have you known Mr Stenning, Ian?’

  ‘Twenty years – or a little under.’


  ‘And you’re just good friends,’ she suggested. ‘And fellow hotel guests, of course.’

  ‘Perhaps I prevaricated, Miss Peterson,’ said Stenning. ‘But I had my reasons. Perhaps you would be good enough not to mention my name in connection with Mr Ballard.’

  ‘Why should I mention you?’

  Stenning picked up his drink. ‘It happens. Casual conversations cover a lot of ground.’

  Liz turned to Ballard. ‘What is all this?’

  ‘It’s just that Mr Stenning and I have business which we’d prefer not to parade before other people at this time.’

  ‘Something to do with the Inquiry?’

  ‘Nothing to do with the Inquiry,’ he said flatly. He turned to Stenning. ‘Talking of the Inquiry, Rickman tried to pull a couple of fast ones this morning before the opening. He came over to me and …’

  He stopped as Stenning raised his hand and said, ‘Am I to take it that you don’t mind if Miss Peterson hears about this matter?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she hear it?’ asked Ballard in surprise.

  Stenning frowned. ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ he said perplexedly.

  ‘All right, then. First Rickman tried to bribe me, then to blackmail me.’ He retailed what Rickman had said.

  Stenning grimaced. ‘Was there a witness to this interesting conversation?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A pity. I’d take delight in having the man disbarred.’

  Liz laughed. ‘You have wonderful friends, Ian. Such nice people.’

  ‘Not nearly as wonderful as the Petersons.’ Ballard looked up. ‘Here’s Mike. What kept you?’

  McGill put a glass and a bottle of ‘DB’ beer on the table. ‘A run-in with Liz’s charming brothers. Hi, Liz. I won’t ask “How’s the family?” because I know. Did you enjoy the show, Mr Stenning? It was a nice movie.’

  ‘It had its moments of drama.’ Stenning sat back in his chair and watched Ballard and Liz Peterson with curious eyes.

  ‘What about my brothers?’ Liz asked.

  McGill filled his glass. ‘Eric’s all right,’ he said, intent on not letting the beer foam over. ‘But have you ever wondered about Charlie? If I were a psychiatrist I’d tend to diagnose paranoia.’

  ‘Did he make another of his big scenes?’

  ‘And how!’ McGill jerked his head at Ballard. ‘He threatened to dismember Ian from limb to limb if he ever meets him.’

  ‘Talk!’ said Liz scornfully. ‘That’s all he ever does.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said McGill. ‘Ian, if you and this wench are going to consort you’d better wear a blindfold. He said that if you so much as look at Liz he’ll kill you.’

  Stenning broke in. ‘And was there a witness to this conversation?’

  ‘Just me and Eric.’

  ‘And he used the word “kill”?’

  ‘The very word.’

  Stenning shook his head. Liz said, ‘I’ll have a talk with Master Charlie. He’s got to get it into his thick skull that my life is my own. This time it won’t be a plate of spaghetti that I’ll crown him with.’

  ‘Liz, be careful,’ warned McGill. ‘I’m getting the idea that he’s genuinely unbalanced. Even Eric thinks he’s losing his marbles. It took Eric all his time to hold him in.’

  ‘He’s just a big blow-hard,’ she said. ‘I’ll sort him out. But let’s not talk about the Petersons – let’s not talk at all. How’s your tennis, Ian?’

  ‘Not bad,’ said Ballard.

  She held up her glass. ‘Bet you another of these you can’t beat me.’

  ‘Done,’ he said promptly.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, and stood up.

  McGill turned his head and watched them as they walked towards the tennis courts with Victor trotting behind, then he turned back and grinned at Stenning. ‘Do you find our conversation stimulating, Mr Stenning?’

  ‘Interesting, to say the least. Miss Peterson is also interesting.’

  ‘An understatement typical of a lawyer.’ McGill topped up his glass. ‘Tell me – If Ian marries a Peterson, does that count in your Peterson Bashing Contest?’

  Stenning moved nothing except his eyes which he slanted at McGill. ‘So he told you about that. Your question is hard to answer. I doubt if it is what Ben had in mind.’

  ‘But circumstances alter cases.’

  Stenning said austerely, ‘That truism has no legal validity.’

  Avalanche

  TWENTY-FOUR

  High on the western slope and deep in the snow layer the processes of disaster were well advanced. Destructive metamorphism had long since ceased and constructive metamorphism was well under way. Air, slightly warmed from the ground, rose upwards through the snow laden with water vapour until it reached the impenetrable layer of hoar frost half way through the snow mass. Here it cooled giving up the vapour to create the tapered cup crystals.

  By now the cup crystals were large and well formed, some of them being over half an inch in length.

  The heavy snow-fall of the past two days had added an increased weight which, operating vertically through gravity against the cup crystals on the slope, had led to a delicately unstable position. A man may take an orange pip, hold it gently between forefinger and thumb, and squeeze ever so gently – and the orange pip will be propelled with considerable velocity. So it was on the western slope. A heavy-footed hawk alighting on the snow could provide that little extra pressure and set the cup crystals in motion.

  Something like that did occur and a small slippage started. It was not very much and could have been spanned by a man with outstretched arms. The new-fallen surface snow, very cold, dry and powdery, was lifted a little by the sudden movement and a small white plume arose like a puff of smoke. But underneath chaos had begun. The fragile ice plate of the hoar layer cracked, jostling the cup crystals beneath which began to roll. The delicate bonds which held the snow together sheared, and cracks spread wide, zig-zagging at high speed from the point of original breakage. It was a chain reaction; one event followed another in lightning succession and suddenly a whole section of the snow fifty feet across slumped forward and downward, adding its weight to the untouched snow farther down the slope.

  Again the inevitable action and reaction. Event followed on event even faster and presently the whole of the higher slope across a front of a hundred yards was in movement and plunging downwards.

  As yet it was not moving very quickly. Five seconds after the first slippage an agile man caught in the open two hundred yards down the slope could have avoided death by running aside not very quickly. The speed of the young avalanche at this time was not much more than ten miles an hour. But the motion and the air resistance caused the light, feathery surface snow to rise and, as the speed increased, more and more of the snow powder became airborne.

  The powder mixed turbulently with the air to form essentially a new substance – a gas with a density ten times that of air. This gas, tugged down the slope by the force of gravity, was not checked very much by friction against the ground, unlike the snow in the main avalanche. The gas cloud picked up speed and moved ahead of the main slide. Twenty seconds after the first slippage it was moving at fifty miles an hour, hammering gustily at the snow slope and smashing the delicate balance of forces that held the snow in place.

  This was a self-energizing process. More snow was whirled aloft to increase the gas cloud and the avalanche, no longer an infant but lustily growing, fed hungrily on the snow lower down the slope. Already the whole of the upper slope was boiling and seething across a front of four hundred yards, and clouds of snow rose like the thunderheads of a hot summer’s day, but incredibly faster.

  The avalanche cloud poured down the mountainside even more quickly. At seventy miles an hour it began to pull into itself the surrounding air, thus increasing its volume. Growing thus, it again increased its speed. At a hundred miles an hour the turbulence in its entrails was causing momentary blasts of two hundred miles an hour. At a hundred and thirty miles an ho
ur miniature tornadoes began to form along its edges where it entrained the ambient air; these whirlwinds had internal velocities of more than three hundred miles an hour.

  By this time the mature avalanche was encountering air resistance problems. It was moving so fast that the air in front did not have time to get out of the way. The air was compressed and this caused its temperature to rise sharply. Pushed by the heavy avalanche cloud, an air blast began to develop in front of the rapidly moving snow, a travelling shock wave which could destroy a building as effectively as a bomb.

  Now fully grown, the avalanche rumbled in its guts like a flatulent giant. A million tons of snow and a hundred thousand tons of air were on the move, plunging down towards the mists at the bottom of the valley. By the time the mist was reached the avalanche was moving at over two hundred miles an hour with much greater internal gusting. The air blast hit the mist and squirted it aside violently to reveal, only momentarily, a few buildings. A fraction of a second later the main body of the avalanche hit the valley bottom.

  The white death had come to Hukahoronui.

  I

  Dr Robert Scott regarded Harold Dobbs with a professionally clinical eye. Dobbs looked a mess. Apparently he had not shaved for a couple of days and the stubble was dirtily grey on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and he sullenly refused to meet Scott’s gaze. His fingers twitched jerkily in his lap as he sat in the armchair, his face averted.

  Scott noted the nearly empty gin bottle and the half full glass on the occasional table by the chair, and said, ‘That’s the only reason I’m here. Mr Ballard asked me to call in. He’s worried that you might be ill.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ said Dobbs. His voice was so low that Scott had to bend forward and strain his ears to catch the words.

  ‘Are you sure you’re the best judge of that? I’m the doctor, you know. What about me opening the little black bag and giving you a check over?’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ flared Dobbs in a momentary access of energy. The effort seemed to exhaust him and he relapsed into inanition. ‘Go away,’ he whispered.