Читать книгу The Snow Tiger / Night of Error - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 22

The Press gallery was jammed as Harrison led Eric Peterson through his evidence. Dan Edwards had shamelessly bought space for himself by bringing in two cub reporters and then sending them away when the proceedings began. But it was to no avail; protests from other reporters soon led to the seats being occupied, and Edwards was compelled to scrawl his shorthand in as cramped conditions as anyone else.

Harrison made a note on his pad, and raised his eyes. ‘So we arrive at the point when Dr McGill left, having delivered his bad news. What happened then, Mr Peterson?’

Eric Peterson shrugged. ‘Well, the meeting went on for a long time. In all honesty I have to say that some of us were not convinced of the gravity of the situation. You must remember that this whole thing had been jumped on us suddenly – had taken us by surprise, if you like. After all, if someone steps up to you and says, “The end of the world is at hand!” you’re going to need a lot of proof before you believe him.’

‘I appreciate your position,’ said Harrison. ‘Can you give some specific examples of the views of members of the council?’

‘Well, my brother argued that, even if McGill was anywhere near right, we didn’t want to start a panic. I agreed with that and so did Matt Houghton, the mayor. Phil Warrick didn’t seem to have any views at all. He just blew along with the wind and agreed with everybody. Mrs Samson wanted to go all out with preparations for evacuation right there and then.’

‘What position did the mine management take?’

‘Mr Ballard agreed with Mrs Samson. Mr Quentin said he didn’t think there was any danger – he said it was all a lot of hot air. Mr Cameron tended to go along with Mr Ballard.’ Peterson clasped his hands before him. ‘You must realize that any decision concerning the town had to be made by the council. It wasn’t up to the mine management to tell the town what to do. Dr McGill had told us there was no immediate hazard from the west slope, and to some of us there seemed to be no reason for going off half-cocked on a project that might cost the town a lot of money and wasted time.’

‘And lose votes if nothing happened,’ remarked Edwards cynically.

‘Well, as I said, there was a lot of talk and we went round in circles for some time. Eventually Matt Houghton came up with an idea. He said that maybe there was something in what McGill had said, but he’d like a second opinion. He said he’d telephone Christchurch and get some advice.’

‘To whom was he going to speak?’

‘That was the rub. He didn’t know and neither did anyone else. Mr Cameron suggested he talk to someone in the Forestry Department – he said they’d probably know about avalanche conditions. Someone else, I forget who, suggested the Department of Civil Defence. It was decided he’d try both. Mrs Samson said the police should be notified and that was agreed to.’

‘Did the mine management make any concrete suggestions?’

‘We had the offer of transport – trucks and suchlike. Also bulldozers.’

‘Who made that offer?’

Peterson glanced sideways at Ballard. He hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t remember. It may have been Mr Cameron.’

Ballard smiled thinly.

‘And what happened then?’

‘The meeting broke up and it was decided we’d meet at eleven the next morning, even though it was Sunday.’

‘I see.’ Harrison looked around. ‘Has anyone any further questions to ask Mr Peterson?’

Smithers raised his hand. ‘I represent the Ministry of Civil Defence. Was a telephone call in fact made to the Civil Defence authorities?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘Why not?’

‘I talked with Matt Houghton after the meeting. He was a bit wavery about things. He said he’d do what he always did before making a decision. He said he’d sleep on it.’

‘And the police – were they notified?’

‘That was a bit difficult. Arthur Pye was away; he was up at the head of the valley investigating a case of sheep worrying.’

‘Who is Arthur Pye?’

‘Our policeman. Hukahoronui is only a small place – we just had the one policeman.’

‘Do you mean to tell me that when you discussed notifying the police it was your intention to tell Constable Pye?’ said Smithers incredulously.

‘Well, he’d know what to do about telling his superiors,’ said Peterson defensively.

‘So nobody outside Hukahoronui knew of the situation?’

‘I suppose that is correct.’

‘And in Hukahoronui the knowledge was confined to a handful of people.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Smithers consulted his note-pad. ‘You say that when it was decided to get a second opinion on Dr McGill’s diagnosis of the situation nobody knew whom to consult.’ He lifted his head and looked at Peterson with an air of disbelief. ‘Did no one on the council read the directives which were sent out by my Ministry?’

‘We get a lot of stuff from the Government.’ Peterson shrugged. ‘I didn’t read it all myself.’

‘Apparently no one on the council read it.’ Smithers took a deep breath. ‘Mr Peterson, you were a councillor and a responsible official. Would you not agree that preparations for a crisis in your community were conspicuous by their absence? I am not speaking of avalanches only – we do live in an earthquake prone country, a major reason for the existence of the Ministry of Civil Defence.’

‘May I object?’ said Lyall quickly.

Harrison looked up from his notes. ‘What is your objection?’

‘I would like to point out that the township of Hukahoronui was relatively new and the population was largely composed of recent immigrants to the valley. In such a situation the degree of community spirit would naturally be less than in a longer established community.’

‘Mr Lyall, is that your objection? You seem to be answering for the witness.’

‘It is not my objection, Mr Chairman. My objection is that it is improper for Mr Smithers to ask such a loaded question of Mr Peterson. He is usurping the function of this Commission, which is to decide whether the state of affairs implicit in his question was actually the case.’

‘A thin point, but valid nevertheless,’ conceded Harrison. ‘But it would have come better with the accompanying speech of extenuation. Mr Smithers, your last question was out of order. Have you any further questions?’

‘None that I would care to ask this witness,’ said Smithers curtly.

‘Then you may step down, Mr Peterson, on the understanding that you may be recalled.’

Peterson left the witness chair with an air of relief, and Harrison bent forward to have a word with Reed. He then sat back in his chair, and said, ‘Mr Cameron, the engineer of the Hukahoronui Mining Company, has been hospitalized for many months due to the injuries he received in the disaster. However, he has notified the Commission that he feels well enough to give evidence at this time and he is now present. Will you come forward, Mr Cameron?’

There was a low murmur as Cameron limped across the hall leaning heavily on the arm of a male nurse. He had lost a lot of weight and was now almost emaciated; his cheeks were sunken and his hair, pepper and salt at the time of the avalanche, was now quite white. He looked an old man.

He sat in the witness chair and the male nurse drew up another chair behind him. Reed said, ‘What is your full name?’

‘Joseph McNeil Cameron.’

‘And your occupation, Mr Cameron?’

‘I was a mining engineer,’ said Cameron flatly. ‘Specifically for the Hukahoronui Mining Company at the material times under investigation by this Commission.’ His voice was strong if slow.

‘Mr Cameron,’ said Harrison, ‘if at any time you feel unable to continue, please do not hesitate to say so.’

‘Thank you, Mr Chairman.’

‘I understand that you have evidence to give about the events of the evening of the day you had the meeting with the council. That would be the Saturday evening, would it not?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Cameron. ‘There was a dinner-dance at the Hotel D’Archiac that night. I had invited Mr Ballard and Dr McGill to be my guests. My daughter, Stacey, was also present – she was on vacation from the States at that time and was due to go back the following week. There was a certain amount of table-hopping during the dinner and it was then I learned that the mayor had not made the telephone calls. That, combined with a new and most disturbing report from Dr McGill, worried all of us very much.’

‘Could you go into that in more detail?’ said Harrison.

‘Why, yes. We were just starting dinner …’

McGill inspected the menu. ‘Colonial goose,’ he said. ‘That sounds good.’

Ballard chuckled. ‘Don’t expect poultry.’

‘I was going to order that,’ said Stacey Cameron. She was a tall, dark girl with typical American svelte good looks. McGill had measured her with a knowledgeable eye and classed her as a long-stemmed American beauty, Californian variety. She said, ‘What is it if it isn’t a bird?’

‘A Texas nightingale isn’t a bird, either, honey,’ said Cameron. ‘It’s a donkey. This is a similar New Zealand joke.’

Stacey was horrified. ‘You mean it’s horse meat?’

‘No,’ said Ballard. ‘It’s hogget and stuffing.’

‘Now you’ve lost me,’ complained McGill. ‘What’s hogget?’

‘Midway between lamb and mutton. There are millions of sheep in New Zealand and just about as many ways of cooking the animal. Colonial goose is a colonial joke, but it’s not bad.’

‘A trap for the unwary tourist,’ commented McGill. ‘Talking of that, when are you going back to the States, Stacey?’

‘Just ten days left,’ she said with a sigh.

‘I’ve been trying to talk her into staying,’ said Cameron.

‘Why don’t you?’ Ballard asked her.

‘I’d like to,’ she said regretfully. ‘If only to look after this crazy man.’ She leaned over and patted her father’s hand. ‘But I have a boss back in San Francisco who’s depending on me – I wouldn’t want to let him down.’

Cameron said, ‘No one is indispensable. How long would it take you to cut free?’

She thought about it. ‘Maybe six months.’

‘Then what about it?’

‘I’ll consider it,’ she said. ‘Really I will.’

Over dinner Cameron yarned about some of the practical difficulties they had run into when getting the mine going. ‘The trouble was mainly with the people. The folks around here weren’t very enthusiastic at first. They’d got pretty set in their ways and didn’t like change. All except old man Peterson, of course, who saw the possibilities.’

‘That reminds me,’ said McGill. ‘What’s with the Petersons? And how many of them are there, for God’s sake?’

‘Three brothers,’ said Ballard. ‘John, Eric and Charlie. The old man died last year.’

Cameron said, ‘John has the brains, Eric has the drive, and Charlie has the muscle and precious little else. If Charlie-boy had twice the brains he has now he’d be a half-wit. The Petersons own the Supermarket and the filling station, they have a half share in this hotel, run a couple of farms – things like that. Charlie wants to develop Huka as a ski resort but he’s finding it tough sledding; his brothers don’t think the time is ripe for it. Old Peterson saw the possibilities and his boys are carrying on where he left off.’

‘You forgot Liz,’ said Stacey. ‘She’s over there – fourth table along.’

Ballard turned his head. He had not seen Liz Peterson since his return to the valley and his image was still of a freckled, gawky girl with pigtails and skinned knees. What he saw was something quite different and he drew in his breath.

Liz Peterson was a rarity – a really beautiful girl whose loveliness did not depend on the adventitious aid of cosmetics. Her beauty lay deeper than the surface of her skin – in the bone structure of her skull, in the sheen of good health and youth, in the smooth and controlled movements of her body. She was beautiful in the way a healthy young animal is beautiful and she had the unconscious arrogance that can be seen in a thoroughbred racehorse or a fine hunting dog.

‘By God!’ he said. ‘She’s grown up.’

Cameron chuckled. ‘It tends to happen.’

‘Why haven’t I seen her around?’

‘She’s been visiting in North Island; just got back this week,’ said Cameron. ‘She had dinner with us on Monday. Stacey was quite impressed, and it really takes something to impress my girl.’

‘I like Liz,’ said Stacey. ‘She has a mind of her own.’

Ballard looked studiously at his plate. ‘Any of the Petersons married yet?’

‘John is – and Eric’s engaged.’

‘Charlie?’

‘No – he hasn’t had to – not yet; but it’s been a close call once or twice from what I hear. As for Liz, she should have been married long ago but Charlie has a way of scaring the young men. He looks after his sister like a hen with one chick.’

McGill said, ‘The Petersons don’t like you, Ian. What was all that about this morning?’

‘An old quarrel,’ said Ballard shortly. He glanced at Cameron. ‘Know about it, Joe?’

‘I’ve heard,’ said Cameron. ‘Something about the Ballards cheating the Petersons out of the mine.’

‘That’s the way the Petersons tell it,’ agreed Ballard. ‘Not John – he’s too sensible; but Eric tends to drive it into the ground a bit. What happened was that my father had a row with my grandfather and emigrated to New Zealand. Although he’d left the family, he was still enough of a Ballard to be interested in gold when he found it on his land. He knew there wasn’t enough sign to start a serious operation, the price of gold being what it was, but when he made his will before he joined the army he left the land to my mother, but the mineral rights he left to my grandfather.’

‘In spite of the fact that they’d quarrelled?’ asked McGill.

‘He was a Ballard. What would my mother do with mineral rights? Anyway, after he died my mother had to sell the land – she couldn’t farm it herself. She sold most of it – that’s the west slope – to old Peterson, who neglected to check if he had the mineral rights. I don’t know if he cared about that one way or the other, but when my grandfather bought the rest of the land from my mother – the bit at the bottom of the slope – and started to exploit the mineral rights under Peterson land then all hell broke loose. Accusations of bad faith were tossed around like confetti. The Petersons have always been convinced it was a deep-laid plot on the part of the Ballards. Actually, of course, it was nothing of the kind, but because my name is Ballard I’m stuck with it.’

‘When you put it that way it doesn’t sound too bad,’ said Cameron. ‘All the same, I’m not surprised that the Petersons are riled.’

‘I don’t see why they should be,’ said Ballard. ‘The only people making a profit out of the mine are the Petersons; the mine brought prosperity to this valley and the Petersons are creaming it off. The Ballards certainly aren’t making a profit. You’ve seen the operating figures, Joe, and you know the company is just breaking even.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen if we have to put in extensive avalanche protection. I’ve been trying to get hold of Crowell all day but he’s not available.’

‘Who is he?’ asked McGill.

‘Chairman of the company. He lives in Auckland.’

‘I’ve been thinking of avalanche protection,’ said McGill meditatively. ‘I’ve got some figures for you, Joe. When you design the avalanche gallery over the mine portal allow for an impact pressure of ten tons a square foot.’

Cameron flinched. ‘That much?’ he asked incredulously.

‘I’ve been talking to people who witnessed the 1943 slide. From all accounts it was an airborne powder avalanche, and so was the 1912 slide, according to Turi Buck. The next may not be any different.’

‘Airborne powder! What’s that?’

‘This is no time for a lecture on avalanche dynamics. All you need to know is that it’s fast and it packs a hell of a wallop.’

Ballard said, ‘The 1943 avalanche turned a hundred acres of big trees into firewood.’

Cameron put down his fork. ‘Now I know why you’re worried about the town.’

‘I wish to hell the council was as worried as I am,’ said McGill bleakly.

Cameron looked up. ‘Here comes Matt Houghton. If you tell him what you’ve just told me maybe he’ll become as scared as I am.’ As Houghton came up, his bald head gleaming, Cameron pulled out a chair. ‘Sit down, Matt. What did the Civil Defence people have to say?’

Houghton sat down heavily. ‘I haven’t had time to talk to them yet. We’ll be posting signs on the slope; Bobby Fawcett’s scouts are making them and they’ll be putting them up tomorrow. Got any stakes we can use, Joe?’

‘Sure,’ said Cameron, but his voice was abstracted. He was looking at McGill.

Ballard leaned forward. ‘What do you mean, Matt – you didn’t have time? I thought it was agreed …’

Houghton flapped his hands. ‘It’s Saturday, Ian,’ he said plaintively, and shrugged. ‘And tomorrow is Sunday. We probably won’t be able to get through to them until Monday.’

Ballard looked baffled. ‘Matt, do you really think that Civil Defence Headquarters closes down at weekends? All you have to do is to lift the bloody telephone.’

‘Take it easy, Ian. I have enough trouble with the Petersons. Charlie takes the line that no one can prevent him from walking – or skiing – on his own land.’

‘For Christ’s sake! Is he out of his mind?’

Houghton sighed. ‘You know Charlie. It’s that old feud getting in the way.’

‘What the hell did I have to do with buying and selling mineral rights? I was only a kid at the time.’

‘It’s not that; it’s the other thing. Charlie was Alec’s twin, you know.’

‘But that was nearly twenty-five years ago.’

‘Long memories, Ian; long memories.’ Houghton rubbed his jaw. ‘That stuff you told us about your training – you know, Johannesburg and Harvard. Eric was inclined to disbelieve you.’

‘So he thinks I’m a liar as well as a coward,’ said Ballard sourly. ‘What does he think it takes to be in charge of a company like this?’

‘He did mention a rich grandfather,’ said Houghton wryly.

He dropped his eyes under Ballard’s steady stare. Ballard said, ‘I’m expecting a call from old Crowell. You can talk to him if you like. He’ll tell you my qualifications.’ His voice was chilly.

‘Take it easy – I believe you. You’ve made a success of your life, and that’s all that matters.’

‘No, it isn’t, Matt. What matters is that bloody snow on the slope above this town, and I don’t want any ancient history getting in the way. I’m going to make sure the right thing is done, and if the Petersons get in my way I won’t go around them – I’ll go through them. I’ll smash them.’

Houghton gave him a startled look. ‘My God, but you’ve changed!’

‘Turi Buck said it first – I’ve grown up,’ said Ballard tiredly.

There was an embarrassed silence at the table. McGill, who had been quietly watchful, said, ‘I don’t know what that was all about, Mr Houghton, but I can tell you this. The situation is now more serious than that I outlined at our meeting this morning. I’ve taken more samples from the slope and the stability is deteriorating. I’ve also been talking to people about previous avalanches, with the result that I’ve just notified Mr Cameron to prepare for something hitting the mine very hard indeed. I have to tell you that also applies to the town.’

Houghton was affronted. ‘Why the hell didn’t you talk like that this morning instead of pussyfooting around with scientific quibbles? This morning you said the hazard was potential.’

McGill was exasperated. ‘I sometimes wonder if we talk the same language,’ he snapped. ‘The hazard still is potential and it will be until something happens and then it’ll be actual hazard and too goddam late to do anything about it. What do you want me to do? Go up on the slope and trigger it just to prove to you that it can happen?’

Ballard said, ‘Go back to your council and tell them to stop playing politics. And tell the Petersons from me that no one votes for dead men.’ His voice was like iron. ‘You can also tell them that if they don’t do something constructive by midday tomorrow I’ll go over their heads – I’ll call a public meeting and put it to the people direct.’

‘And telephone Civil Defence as soon as you can,’ added McGill.

Houghton took a deep breath and stood up. His face was red and shiny with sweat. ‘I’ll do the best I can,’ he said, and walked away.

Ballard stared after him. ‘I wonder if this is a good time to get drunk?’