Desmond Bagley - The Snow Tiger

‘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.’