The Snow Tiger / Night of Error. Desmond Bagley
said, ‘Could you point out on the map the place where my father was killed?’
Turi stretched out his hand. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Just where the mine office is now.’
‘How do you know it was there?’
‘Because you showed me three days after it happened. You had seen it happen.’
‘And how old was I then, Mr Buck?’
Turi considered. ‘Maybe four years.’
‘Mr Buck, you have given us a lot of information. Was the same information given to the councillors at the meeting?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Thank you, Mr Buck.’
Ballard leaned back and glanced sideways at Lyall who already had his hand up. ‘I would like to ask Mr Buck one or two questions.’
Harrison nodded. ‘Very well.’
‘Was the avalanche of 1943 a very large one?’
Turi thought about it, then nodded his head vigorously. “Very large – bigger than the one in 1912.’
Lyall looked pleased. ‘I see. Could you say, perhaps by indicating on the map, just how far down the slope it came?’
‘Just to the bottom. Mr Ballard’s father was killed here. It didn’t go much farther than that’
‘It didn’t go as far as the Peterson Supermarket?’
‘It didn’t go anywhere near the Peterson store.’
‘Remarkable. Now tell me, Mr Buck: if the Peterson Supermarket was not destroyed by a very big avalanche in 1943, why then was it destroyed this year?’
Turi looked blank, then said, ‘The trees, of course.’
Ballard let out a long sigh and let Lyall dig his own pit. Lyall said, ‘The trees! Oh, you mean that timbered area marked on the west slope?’
Turi turned to look at the map. He examined it for a moment, then said, ‘But this is all wrong.’
Ballard put up his hand. ‘Mr Chairman – on a point of evidence. I would like to have Mr Wheeler recalled briefly. It would seem that his map is not the best evidence.’
Harrison looked startled, then raised his eyebrows. ‘Mr Lyall?’
Lyall frowned, but said, ‘No objection.’
Wheeler was brought back and Ballard said, ‘Look at the map, Mr Wheeler. Do you see that forested area on the western slope of the valley?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I can bring five hundred witnesses to swear that that area was not forested before the avalanche struck. What do you say to that?’
Wheeler did not know what to say to it. He twitched nervously for a while, then said, ‘The information I put into that map comes from the latest sources available.’
‘But not late enough, it would seem. In respect of a vital piece of evidence – the lack of timber on the western slope – this map is untrue. Is that correct?’
Wheeler shrugged. ‘If you say so. I have never been to Hukahoronui myself.’
‘It is not for me to say,’ said Ballard. ‘But let us ask Mr Buck. When were the trees cut?’
‘They started cutting when the mine opened. The timber went into the mine and for building houses.’
‘That was four years ago?’
‘Yes. The cutting went on for two years. By that time the slope was just about stripped.’
Rolandson stirred, and said, ‘Mr Ballard, are we to understand that you regard the cutting of that timber as a contributory factor which led to the avalanche?’
Ballard hesitated. ‘I am not an expert on avalanches, sir. I would prefer you to direct that question to Dr McGill.’
‘I will,’ growled Rolandson, and conferred for a few moments with Harrison. They both looked at Wheeler who shuffled his feet nervously. ‘You have not been to Hukahoronui and yet you present this map as evidence,’ said Harrison unbelievingly. ‘That is what you said, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Wheeler unhappily.
He was even more unhappy when Harrison had finished with him and sent him off. When Lyall was asked if he had further questions he warily said that he had none. Ballard raised his hand. ‘I would like to ask Mr Buck one more question.’
‘Very well.’
‘Mr Buck, what was the immediate reaction of the councillors towards your revelations about the incidence of avalanches in Hukahoronui?’
Turi Buck froze. In a low voice he said, ‘I would rather not say.’
‘Mr Buck – I must ask you the question.’
Turi shook his head. ‘I will not say.’
‘You must answer the question, Mr Buck,’ said Harrison, but Turi shook his head dumbly.
Harrison looked at Ballard blankly for a moment and Ballard shrugged. The hall was very quiet when someone said, ‘I can answer that question.’
Harrison’s head jerked. ‘Dr McGill, this is most unseemly.’
McGill stepped forward. ‘Mr Chairman, there are only four people who can answer the question. Mr Buck refuses for reasons I can understand. Mr Eric Peterson will not answer, again for reasons I can understand. In all propriety Mr Ballard cannot, because he is interrogating Mr Buck – he cannot be questioner and witness simultaneously. I am the only one left who was present at the meeting.’
Harrison sighed. ‘Very well, you will answer the question. What was it, Mr Ballard?’
‘What was the immediate reaction of the councillors to Mr Buck’s evidence?’
McGill unzipped his satchel and drew forth a flat notebook. ‘As is my habit, I took notes immediately after the meeting. I can read here exactly what was said.’ He selected a page and stared at Eric Peterson where he sat next to Lyall. ‘Mr Eric Peterson’s exact words were, “Turi Buck is an ignorant old black man. He knows nothing – he never has and he never will”.’
There was pandemonium in the Press gallery.
The hall errupted in a babble of noise and Harrison hammered in vain on the rostrum but the crash of his gavel was lost in the uproar. When, at last, he could make himself heard, he said in anger, ‘This hearing is adjourned until further notice and until those present can control themselves.’
‘Turi Buck is an ignorant old black man. He knows nothing – he never has and he never will.’
The words hung heavily in an embarrassed silence in the residents’ lounge of the Hotel D’Archiac which did duty as a council chamber. At last Matthew Houghton coughed nervously, and said, ‘There’s no call for that sort of talk, Eric’
Ballard was angry. ‘I should bloody well think not.’
John Peterson, who was standing, put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Eric, if you can’t talk sense you’d better keep your big mouth shut. You’re starting to behave like Charlie.’ He looked at Turi. ‘My apologies.’
‘Maybe you’d better let Eric make his own apologies,’ said Ballard tightly.
Eric went red in the face but said nothing. John Peterson ignored Ballard and addressed himself to McGill. ‘So you’ve come up with past avalanches, and now you say there’s going to be another.’
‘I