Desmond Bagley - The Snow Tiger

‘Some of it, sir.’ Hatry paused. ‘It’s not a very good film, I’m afraid.’

‘But when you had it developed you realized its importance and you offered it to this Commission as evidence. Is that it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, then, I think the film will be the best evidence available. Please have the screen set up, Mr Reed.’

The hall buzzed with voices as the ushers set up the screen and projector. Curtains were drawn over the windows. In the semi-darkness Harrison said, ‘You may begin at any time.’

There was a click and a whirr, and the screen lit up with a series of rapidly flashing letters against a blurred white background. Suddenly a recognizable scene appeared — white mountains and a blue sky. It disappeared to be replaced by a shot of the ground. ‘That’s the valley,’ said Hatry. ‘You can see the mist.’ He stopped as though conscious of committing lèsemajesté. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘That’s all right, Mr Hatry. Make whatever comments you please.’

‘There’s not much during the first half,’ said Hatry. ‘Just mountains. Some good views towards Mount Cook.’

The film ran on. It could have been any amateur travelogue — hand held and unsteady. But the tension in the hall grew as the seconds went by and scene followed scene.

Presently Hatry said, ‘I think it’s coming along about now. I asked Lieutenant Storey to fly north along the Hukahoronui valley.’

‘How high were you flying?’ asked Rolandson.

‘A little over two thousand feet above the valley floor.’

‘So that the west slope of the valley actually stretched above you.’

‘Yes, sir. Afterwards I found the slope was six thousand feet from crest to valley. Here it is now.’

It was an upward shot showing a little blue sky at the top of the screen, then there were a few scattered rocks jutting up, and then the snow so white as to make the eyes ache which filled the rest of the screen. As an artistic composition it was terrible, but that did not matter.

The scene suddenly jogged and blurred, and then steadied again. ‘That’s it,’ said Hatry. ‘That’s when it started.’

A faint plume of grey had appeared, a shadow cast by rising snow, which grew larger as it moved down the slope. It disappeared sideways as though the camera had panned away. The next shot was of distant mountains and sky, very wobbly. ‘We had trouble in positioning the aircraft,’ said Harry apologetically. ‘I suppose we were excited.’

There came another shot of a boiling cloud of whiteness shadowed by grey which plunged down the mountainside, growing in extent continually. Ballard licked dry lips. He had once seen a big oil fire, and watching this growing cloud advancing down the slope reminded him of the billowing clouds of black smoke from that fire, but seen, as it were, on negative film.

Again the scene jerked off the screen and there came a dizzying view of the ground whirling in a spiral. ‘I asked Lieutenant Storey to bank,’ said Hatry, ‘so I could get a good view into the valley. He did it a bit too quickly.’

The camera steadied and it could be seen that the whole of the upper slope was in motion and the line of advance was incredibly fast, even when seen from a distance. Blurred and unsteady though the film was, the sight was impressive.

Suddenly there was a complete change of scene. The moving front of the avalanche was now much farther down the mountain, almost near the bottom, and approaching the bank of mist which covered the valley floor. Hatry said, ‘We were flying out of distance. We had to make a quick circuit and come back.’

Something surprising was happening to the mist. Long before the approaching front of snow was near it, the mist was driven back as though an invisible jet was playing on it. It cleared magically and buildings could be seen briefly. Then the snow swept over everything.

The screen flashed blindingly white and there was a flapping sound as the tail of the film was slapped around by the reel of the projector. ‘That’s when the film ran out,’ said Hatry.

‘Will someone draw the curtains?’ said Harrison. The curtains were drawn open and he waited until the hum of conversation ceased. ‘So you took the film. What did you do next?’

‘We radioed back, telling what we’d seen.’

‘And what was the result of that?’

‘They asked us if we could land. I checked with Lieutenant Storey and he said not. There was still some mist about, but that wasn’t it. You see, he didn’t know where to land after the snow had gone over everything. We were then ordered to return to Christchurch.’

‘Thank you, Mr Hatry. You may step down.’ Harrison looked towards McGill. ‘Have you any comments on what you have just seen, Dr McGill? You may answer from where you are sitting.’

‘It was most interesting from a professional point of view. If we know the number of frames per second of that film we can measure the speed of the avalanche very accurately and in detail. One of the most interesting features is that it showed something which we have always suspected and, in a sense, knew, but could not prove. Because of the mist we could see that there was an air blast in advance of the moving mass of snow. At a very rough estimate I would put that air blast as moving at something over two hundred miles an hour. Apart from the actual snow impact, such a blast could cause considerable damage. I think the film should be preserved and, indeed, duplicated. I wouldn’t mind having a copy of it myself for study.’

‘Thank you.’ Harrison looked at the clock. ‘The time has come for our adjournment. We meet here again at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’

His gavel tapped on the rostrum.

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.’