Desmond Bagley - The Snow Tiger / Night of Error

Frank hesitated. ‘Think again, Ian.’

Ian jerked his head. ‘Out!’

Frank walked forward. ‘You’ll regret it.’

‘How’s Uncle Steve?’

‘He’s not going to like the answer I take back to Sydney.’

‘He should have come himself and not sent a half-wit to do his dirty work. He’s too intelligent to think threats would have any effect – he’d have tried a bribe, if I know him. Tell him from me that that wouldn’t have worked, either. Maybe you’ll be able to keep a whole skin that way.’

Frank paused outside the door, and turned. ‘You’re finished, Ian. I hope you know that.’

Ian closed the door in his face.

As he drove Liz back to the hospital to pick up her car he said, ‘Sorry about the gloomy lunch, Liz. I have a few things on my mind.’

‘It was a bit glum,’ she agreed. ‘What’s the matter? Trouble with the family? You were all right until you saw your cousin.’

He did not answer immediately but pulled the car off the road and parked by the kerb. He turned to face her, and said, ‘We both seem to have trouble that way. When were you thinking of going to England, Liz?’

‘I haven’t thought that far ahead.’

‘I’ll be going as soon as the inquiry is over. Why don’t you come with me?’

‘My God!’ she said. ‘Charlie would have kittens. Is this by way of being a proposal, Ian?’ She smiled. ‘Or do I come as your mistress?’

‘That’s up to you. You can take it either way.’

Liz laughed. ‘Shakespeare didn’t write this script. I know we’re like the Montagues and Capulets, but Romeo never made an offer like that.’ She put her hand on his. ‘I like you, Ian, but I’m not sure I love you.’

‘That’s the problem,’ he said. ‘We haven’t known each other long enough. Just two or three days at Huka, rudely interrupted by a disaster, and a week here. Love doesn’t flourish under those conditions, especially when overlooked by brother Charlie.’

‘Don’t you believe in love at first sight?’

‘I do,’ said Ballard. ‘Evidently you don’t. It happened to me at the dance on the night everything started. Look, Liz: when I get on that plane I won’t be coming back to New Zealand. I’d hate it like hell if I never saw you again. Maybe you don’t love me, but it would be nice if you gave it a fighting chance.’

‘Propinquity!’ she said. ‘A lovely word. Do you think it works?’

‘What have you got to lose?’

She looked pensively through the windscreen, staring at nothing. Presently she said, ‘If I do go to England with you – and I’m not saying right now that I will – but if I do there’ll be no strings. I’m my own woman, Ian; a very private person. That’s something Charlie can never understand. So if I come it will be my choice, and if after a while I leave you, it will be my choice again. Do you understand?’

He nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘And let me tell you something else, just to clear up something which may have been on your mind. Eric is against the Ballards on principle – it’s not just you. But with Charlie it definitely is you. Now, I was only two when Alec died; I never knew him – not to remember. And you were twelve then, and now you’re thirty-five. A person at twelve and a person at thirty-five are two different people, not to be confused with each other as Charlie does. I don’t know the rights and wrongs of Alec’s death – and I don’t care. I’ll be going to England with a man, not a boy.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ballard. ‘Thanks, Liz.’

‘Not that I’ve said I’m going with you yet,’ she warned. ‘I’ll have to think about it. As to the question you asked – what have I got to lose?’ She patted his knee. ‘The answer, my dear Ian, is my virginity!’

Ballard dropped Liz at the hospital and went on to Deep Freeze Headquarters. He did not find McGill at the office but finally ran him down at the Officers’ Club where he was talking shop. Ballard said, ‘I thought I’d pick you up first. Old Stenning will have travelled a long way and he’ll be tired, so I thought I wouldn’t keep him waiting around.’

‘Sure,’ said McGill. ‘I’ll come right along. When is he due in?’

‘In fifteen minutes, if the plane’s on time.’

They drove to Harewood Airport, two minutes away, and stood chatting on the concourse while they waited. McGill said, ‘I’ve never met a millionaire’s lawyer. Will you recognize Stenning when you see him?’

Ballard nodded. ‘He’s a tall, thin chap with white hair. Looks a bit like Bertrand Russell.’

The aircraft was on time and, as the passengers streamed through the terminal, Ballard said, ‘There he is,’ and McGill saw a tall, old man with the face of an ascetic. Ballard stepped forward. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Stenning.’ They shook hands. ‘This is Mike McGill, a friend. He’s come to carry the suitcases. I don’t think they’ll be long in coming.’

Stenning smiled. ‘Are you the Dr McGill who has been giving evidence at the Inquiry?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘If you’re carrying suitcases you’ve come down in the world.’

‘The luggage is coming now,’ said Ballard. Stenning pointed out his cases, and Ballard said, ‘Let’s get this stuff out to the car, Mike.’ As they left the terminal he said to Stenning, ‘I’ve booked you a room at the hotel where I’m staying. It’s quite comfortable.’

‘Just point me towards a bed,’ said Stenning. ‘I find it difficult to sleep on aircraft. How is the Inquiry going?’

‘I’ve kept the newspapers for you. It’s getting good coverage in Christchurch.’

Stenning grunted. ‘Good! I’ve been in aircraft for two days so I’ve fallen behind with the news. I’m looking forward to discussing the disaster with you, Dr McGill.’

‘Any time I’m not in court, Mr Stenning.’

At the hotel McGill tactfully made himself scarce while Ballard showed Stenning his room. Stenning said, ‘I’m not as resilient as I used to be, Ian. I’m going to bed. Your grandfather would have said a thing or two about that, were he here. At my age he was an assiduous globe-trotter.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry he’s gone.’

‘Yes,’ said Ballard. ‘So am I.’

Stenning regarded him curiously. ‘Are you?’ he asked in a sceptical tone. ‘If you’d have said the other thing I wouldn’t have been surprised – or shocked. Your grandfather was a hard man to get on with. In my opinion he didn’t treat you very well.’

Ballard shrugged. ‘I’ll miss him all the same.’

‘So will I, Ian. So will I. Now, if you’ll excuse a tired old man …’

‘Have you eaten? I can get something sent in.’

‘No – I just want my bed.’

Ballard indicated a cupboard. ‘I laid in some drinks. There’s whisky, gin and brandy – with the trimmings.’

‘A kindly thought. A whisky before bed will go down very well. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ian.’

Ballard left him and found McGill having a beer by the pool. McGill raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

‘Nothing,’ said Ballard. ‘He didn’t say a damned thing.’

McGill frowned. ‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said. ‘He sure as hell didn’t fly thirteen thousand miles to discuss a disaster with Mike McGill.’

Stenning was absent from breakfast next morning. McGill buttered a slice of toast. ‘He doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. Just like a lawyer; they work to a different sort of time from the rest of us.’

‘I had a visit from one of my relatives yesterday,’ said Ballard. ‘My cousin Frank.’ He told McGill what had happened.

McGill whistled. ‘You Ballards play rough. Can he do what he threatened to do? Have you blackballed in the industry?’