Desmond Bagley - The Snow Tiger

Immediately inside was the loadmaster whose helmet had saved him from being knocked totally unconscious. He was shaking his head groggily as Pye grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out bodily. Pye then climbed inside with Quentin just behind him.

Two children were strapped into a seat, their bodies lolling forward and supported only by the straps. Pye did not know whether they were living or dead as he fumbled at the straps, and he had no time to find out. He freed the first and passed her back to Quentin, and then tackled the second, a boy. From far away he heard a bellow from the ground controller — ‘You guys in there had better be quick. She might go up.’

He freed the boy who was passed out to fall into waiting hands, then he said to Quentin, ‘I’ll have to go back there to get behind the stretcher. You take this end.’

There were two stretchers and when Pye looked at one of them he saw there was no use in doing anything about that one. The man lying in it had his head at a totally impossible angle and Pye judged, in that hasty glance, that his neck was broken. He turned to the other stretcher and heard Mrs Haslam say, ‘Is that you, Jack?’ Her eyes stared at him unwinkingly.

‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve come to take you home.’ His finger nails tore and his fingers bled as he worked frantically at the straps which secured the stretcher. He got one loose and turned to find that Quentin had released the other. ‘Right. Take it gently.’ He bent forward and said to Mrs Haslam reassuringly, ‘We’ll soon have you out of here.’

It was at that moment the petrol ignited. He saw a white flash and felt searing heat, and when he inhaled his next breath he drew flaming petrol vapour into his lungs. He felt no pain and was dead before he knew it, and so was Bill Quentin, Mrs Haslam, Harry Baker and his co-pilot, whom nobody had seen on the ground in Hukahoronui.

There was no sound in the inquiry room other than the creaking of the old kauri floor. Harrison said into the silence, ‘A public inquiry has already been held into the reasons for this air crash. It was held by the inspector of Air Accidents as was his statutory duty. Its findings will be incorporated into the findings of this inquiry. However I propose to say a few words on the subject now.’

His voice was even and his demeanour grave. ‘Lieutenant-Commander Rusch has already given evidence that the dead helicopter pilot had complained of the hazardous nature of the flying conditions and the reasons for the hazards. Even at the moment of the crash Lieutenant-Commander Rusch was talking to the authorities at Harewood Airport and you have heard, from his evidence and that of others, that he was most forthright, and indeed, aggressive in reinforcing the strictures of his fellow officer.

‘At the time of the crash it was assumed that the aircraft which was the cause of this accident bad been chartered by a newspaper. In actual fact, it turned out to be an official flight made by a junior minister of the Government who was intent on finding the extent of the disaster area at Hukahoronui. Regardless of whether the flight was official or unofficial, it is evident that there was a grave breakdown of communication between the Ministry of Civil Defence and the civil and military air authorities, leading to what might be construed as criminal negligence.’

He looked up at the Press gallery with cold eyes, and Dan Edwards twitched in his seat. ‘I might add that the Press acted most irresponsibly in their flights over the disaster area. While a reporter may think he has a duty to get at the facts, he has a higher duty to the community than to the newspaper which employs him. While I understand that certain civil air pilots have been reprimanded and suitably punished by the withdrawal of their flying licences, I regret that a similar punishment cannot legally be meted out to those who so irresponsibly chartered the aircraft and gave the orders.’

He switched his attention to Smithers. ‘And I hope the Ministry of Civil Defence is reviewing its procedures immediately and not waiting for the findings of this Commission to be published. There could be a similar disaster tomorrow, Mr Smithers.’

He did not wait to hear anything Smithers might have to say, but tapped with his gavel. ‘We stand adjourned until ten a.m. tomorrow.’

As Ballard left the hall he saw McGill talking to a bespectacled, middle-aged man whom he had previously noticed in the front rank of the Press gallery. When he approached he heard McGill say, ‘I’d be much obliged if you could get them for me.’

Dan Edwards scratched the side of his jaw. ‘Tit for tat,’ he said. ‘If there’s a story in it I want an exclusive.’ He smiled. ‘It’s all right for old Harrison to act pontifical, but I’m still a newspaperman.’

‘If there’s a story you’ll have it first,’ promised McGill. ‘Even Harrison would agree that this is in the public interest.’

‘When do you want them?’

‘Yesterday — but today will have to do. Can I meet you in your office in half an hour?’

Edwards grimaced. ‘I was looking forward to a beer, but I suppose that can wait.’

‘If I find what I’m looking for I’ll buy you a case of beer.’

Edwards said, ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ and went away.

Ballard said, ‘What’s all that about, Mike?’

‘Just checking on something — professional stuff. Seen Liz yet?’

‘No. I’m meeting her later.’

‘Don’t waste time,’ advised McGill. ‘The balloon goes up tomorrow. If Harrison knew I was sitting on this he’d ream me out for sure.’ He looked past Ballard. ‘Ah, there’s the guy I want to see.’ He walked away with Flying Officer Hatry, talking fast and making gestures with his hands. Ballard looked after him curiously, then shrugged and went to get his car.

He had missed Liz at lunch-time — she had left quickly with Eric and Charlie — and she had not appeared for the afternoon session. During the mid-afternoon recess he had telephoned her at her hotel and asked to see her. ‘You’d better not come here,’ she had said. ‘Charlie wouldn’t like it. I’ll come to your hotel after dinner. What about nine o’clock?’

At the hotel he avoided Stenning by the simple expedient of staying in his room. In view of what had happened the previous night he had no wish for further conversation with Stenning. He whiled away the time by reading a novel which bored him, and his thoughts went skittering away from the narrative which should have held his attention.

He wondered where McGill was and what he was doing. He thought of how he was going to break the news to Liz — that was going to be damned difficult. How do you tell the woman you love that her brother is — to all intents and purposes — a multiple murderer?

He had dinner in his room. At nine-fifteen he was pacing the floor and, at nine-thirty, when Liz still had not shown up, he contemplated telephoning her again. At nine-forty the telephone rang and he grabbed it.

‘Ballard.’

‘A guest for you, Mr Ballard.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

He went to the reception desk where the clerk said, ‘In the lounge, Mr Ballard.’

Ballard walked into the hotel lounge and looked about. In a corner he saw Stenning reading a newspaper but there was no sign of Liz. From behind him a voice said, ‘I’ll bet you didn’t expect me , Ballard.’

He turned and saw Charlie Peterson. ‘Where’s Liz?’ he demanded.

Charlie swayed slightly on his feet. His face was reddened and covered with a film of sweat, and a tic worked convulsively under his left eye. ‘She won’t be here,’ he said. ‘I’ve made sure of that. I’ve told you before — stay away from my sister, you bastard.’