Desmond Bagley - The Snow Tiger / Night of Error

He went back to the snow wall and took out a handful of snow and examined it. ‘Not too dry but dry enough.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Peterson.

‘Nothing. Just being technical.’ He thrust his hand under Peterson’s nose, palm upwards. With the forefinger of his left hand he stirred the snow around. ‘Soft, harmless stuff, isn’t it? Just like lamb’s wool.’ His fingers closed on the snow, making a fist. ‘There was a man in my line of business called Zdarsky,’ he said conversationally. ‘He was a pioneer working before the First World War. Zdarsky said, “Snow is not a wolf in sheep’s clothing – it is a tiger in lamb’s clothing.”’

He opened his fist. ‘Look at that, Mr Peterson. What is it?’

In the palm of his gloved hand lay a lump of hard ice.

‘So that was the first avalanche,’ said Harrison.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And it meant that no vehicles could leave or enter the valley?’

‘That is correct.’

‘So what happened next?’

McGill said, ‘It had been my intention to persuade the town council that the best course of action was to evacuate the population of the valley until the danger had receded. This was now impossible.’

‘You say impossible. Surely the obstacle could be climbed.’

‘It could be climbed by the fit and active, of course; but what of the elderly, the handicapped and the children? But at least one member of the town council was now convinced that avalanches were something to be reckoned with in Hukahoronui. He was now ready to go back to town and throw his full weight into implementing any action I recommended. Mr John Peterson had been the first mayor and his words and actions would count for a lot. We went back to the town to get some action going.’

Harrison nodded and made a note. ‘What was the name of the man you quoted to Mr Peterson? How do you spell it?’

‘Z-D-A-R-S-K-Y, Matthias Zdarsky. He was an Austrian and an early pioneer in snow studies.’ McGill hesitated. ‘I have an anecdote which may have some bearing on what I quoted to Mr Peterson.’

‘Proceed,’ said Harrison. ‘As long at it does not take us too far from our purpose here.’

‘I don’t think it does. A couple of years ago I was in Western Canada as a technical adviser on avalanche protection. There was a cartographic draughtsman who had been given the job of drawing a map of the area showing all the sites of avalanche hazard. It was a long job but he had nearly finished when, one day when he got back from lunch he found that some joker had written in medieval lettering on each avalanche site the words “Here be Tygers”, just as on an old map.’

He smiled slightly. ‘The draughtsman didn’t think much of it as a joke, but the boss of his department took the map, had it framed, and hung it on the wall of his office as a reminder to everyone about avalanche hazard. You see, everyone in the game knows about Matthias Zdarsky and what happened to him.’

‘An interesting anecdote,’ said Harrison. ‘And perfectly relevant. At the risk of wasting more time I would like to know what did happen to Zdarsky.’

‘He was in the Austrian army during the First World War. At that time both sides – Austrians and Italians – were using avalanches as weapons in the Dolomites and the Tyrol. It’s said that eighty thousand men died in avalanches during the war. In 1916 Zdarsky was going to the rescue of twenty-five Austrian soldiers who had been caught in an avalanche when he himself was caught in one. He was lucky enough to be rescued alive but that’s about all you can say. He had eighty broken bones and dislocations, and it was eleven years before he could ski again.’

The hall was hushed. Presently Harrison said, ‘Thank you, Dr McGill.’ He looked up at the clock. ‘I think we will now adjourn for the weekend. This hearing will recommence at ten in the morning on Monday.’ He tapped lightly with the gavel ‘The hearing is now adjourned.’

Next morning Ballard went to the hospital to visit Cameron. He tried to do this as often as possible to keep the old man company and cheer him up. It was a fact that Cameron now was an old man; his experience in the avalanche had almost killed both spirit and body. McGill said, ‘I’ll go to see him tomorrow. I have things to do at Deep Freeze Headquarters.’

‘I’ll be out that way this afternoon,’ said Ballard. ‘I’m picking up Stenning at Harewood. Want a lift back?’

‘Thanks,’ said McGill. ‘Ask for me in the office.’

Ballard found Cameron out of bed but in a wheelchair with a blanket tucked around him in spite of the fact that it was a hot day. He was talking to Liz Peterson when Ballard walked into the room. ‘Hi!’ said Liz. ‘I’ve just been telling Joe how Mike tried to freeze our blood when he gave evidence yesterday.’

‘Yes, I think he made Harrison shiver a bit.’ Privately he thought it tactless to describe the sufferings of an avalanche victim such as Zdarsky to one who had himself been caught in an avalanche, and he wondered how much Liz had said. ‘How are you feeling, Joe?’

‘A bit better this morning. I could have stayed yesterday afternoon in spite of my damn fool doctor.’

‘You do as he says,’ Ballard advised. ‘What do you think, Liz?’

‘I think Joe should do as he likes. Doctor doesn’t always know best.’

Cameron laughed. ‘Oh, it’s good to have a pretty girl here – especially when she’s on my side. But you really shouldn’t be here, Liz.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘You should be out there, enjoying the sunshine. On a tennis court, maybe.’

‘I’ve got plenty of time for tennis, Joe,’ she said. ‘The rest of my life. Are they looking after you well here?’

‘Okay, I guess – but it’s just like any other hospital. The food is terrible – they have too many dieticians and too few cooks.’

‘We’ll have something sent in,’ said Ballard. ‘Won’t we Liz?’

She smiled. ‘I’m not bad at home cooking.’

They stayed until Cameron sent them off, saying that young people must have something better to do than to sit around in hospitals. Outside, in the sunshine, Ballard said, ‘Doing anything in particular, Liz?’

‘Not really.’

‘What about having lunch with me?’

She hesitated fractionally, but said, ‘I’d like that.’

‘We’ll go in my car. I’ll bring you back on my way to the airport this afternoon. I’m meeting someone.’

‘It’ll cost you lunch for two. I’ll have to bring Victor. I can’t leave him in my car.’

‘Sure.’

She laughed. ‘Love me – love my dog.’

As Ballard started the engine of his car, he said, ‘Did you mean what you said yesterday – about leaving New Zealand?’

‘I’ve been thinking about it.’

‘Where would you go?’

‘England, I suppose – at first anyway. Then perhaps America. You’ve travelled around a bit, haven’t you? I’ve always wanted to travel – to see things.’

He drove out of the hospital grounds. ‘Yes, I’ve been places, but they’ve always been working trips. I’ll tell you one thing – I certainly never expected to come back to New Zealand.’

‘Then why did you?’

Ballard sighed. ‘My grandfather wanted me to. He was a forceful old bird.’

‘He was ! I didn’t know he was dead.’

‘He died a few days ago.’

‘Oh, Ian! I am sorry.’

‘So am I, in a way. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’ll miss him. Now that he’s gone I won’t be staying with the Ballard group. In fact, I’ve just about made that impossible.’

‘It’s like Mike says – neither of us get on with our relatives.’ Liz laughed. ‘I had a row with Charlie last night. Someone saw us in the restaurant yesterday and split to Charlie.’