The Snow Tiger / Night of Error. Desmond Bagley
dangerous.
That’s the position you’re in. You have a potential hazard here.’
‘Not an actual hazard?’ queried John Peterson.
‘I can tell you more after another series of tests. But I’ll tell you this – the hazard isn’t getting any less.’
Peterson said, ‘It seems pretty flimsy to me. From the line you’re shooting it seems to me that you want us to spend a lot of money because of something that may never happen.’
‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ said Houghton. ‘If there have been avalanches in the past, why weren’t the houses knocked down? My house was the second one built in the valley; my grandfather built it in 1850, two years after the Otago Settlement.’
Ballard said, ‘Let’s have a look at the map.’ He pushed the map across the table to Houghton. ‘Matt, I want you to cast your mind back, say, twenty years – before all the houses were built when the mine started. I want you to mark all the houses you can remember.’ He handed Houghton a pen.
‘Well, there’s my house there, and Turi Buck’s house – but we know why that’s still there. And there’s the Cunningham house, and the Pearman house …’
‘… and the Jackson place and the old Fisher house,’ said Mrs Samson.
Slowly Houghton marked them all and then leaned back. Ballard said, ‘Don’t forget the church and the school – and Peterson’s store.’
Houghton scratched more crosses on the map, and Ballard said, ‘Just look at it. All those buildings are well scattered and if you look at the terrain you’ll see that every one of them is protected against falls from the western slope to a greater or lesser degree.’ He picked up the pen. ‘But we do know there was another building – the Bailey house.’ He marked its position on the map. ‘That’s gone now.’
Mrs Samson said, ‘What are you getting at?’
‘When the settlers first came here, back in the middle of last century, they didn’t bother overmuch about keeping records, so we don’t know a lot about houses destroyed. We only know about the Bailey house because of Turi. My bet is that the houses Matt has just marked are the survivors.’
Phil Warrick said, ‘That makes sense. If a man had a house knocked down he wouldn’t rebuild in the same place. Not if he had any brains.’
‘Or if he survived,’ said McGill. ‘The Baileys didn’t.’ He put his hand flat on the map. ‘Those houses survived because the builders were lucky or knew what they were about. But now you’ve got a whole township here – not just a few scattered houses. That’s where the hazard comes in.’
‘So what are you asking us to do?’ asked John Peterson.
‘I want you to accept the fact that avalanche hazard exists – that’s the first step and all follows from that. So you’ll have to take the necessary precautions, first in the short term and, later, in the long term. You must notify the appropriate authority outside the valley that a hazard exists. Then you must be ready for it if it comes. You must have rescue gear stored in safe places where it can be got at in case of disaster. And you’ll have to have men trained to use that equipment. And you’ll have to have contingency planning in case it becomes necessary to evacuate the town. I can help in advising on a lot of that.’
Eric Peterson said, ‘My brother is right. It seems to me that you’re asking us to spend a lot of money guarding against something which might never happen. If we have to train men we have to pay them; if we have to have equipment we have to pay for it. Where do we get the money?’
Quentin laughed bitterly. ‘You haven’t heard anything yet. Wait until you hear about the long-term precautions.’ His finger stabbed out. ‘If this man has his way the mine will shut down.’
‘What the hell!’ John Peterson stared at Ballard. ‘What foolish talk is this?’
‘Ask McGill how much it will cost to protect the mine,’ said Quentin. ‘At the last meeting we had they were talking in millions of dollars – and we all know the company won’t stand for that.’
‘Not to protect the mine,’ snapped Ballard. ‘To protect the town. In a case like this you’ll get a government grant.’
Eric Peterson laughed shortly. ‘Everyone knows that government grants don’t cover everything – not by a long chalk. We learned that when we were extending the school. And you are talking in millions of dollars, not in thousands.’ He looked up at his brother. ‘Guess how much the town rates will be next year if this damn silly caper carries on.’
Ballard said, ‘How much is your life worth, Eric?’
‘That’s a hell of a question! But I’ll give you a short answer. My life is worth that of one of my brothers – that much and no more.’
‘There’s no call for that,’ said Houghton quickly.
‘Well, he brought it up,’ said Eric. ‘In any case, according to him, I’m safe.’ He tapped the map. ‘My place is one of the survivors.’
‘Not any more,’ said Ballard. ‘Not since the trees were cut down on the west slope. Did you do that, Eric?’
‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’
‘The only reason the store survived in 1943 was because of the trees. Now they’re gone there’s nothing between you and the snow. You made a bad bargain there.’
Eric stood up. ‘Too right I made a bad bargain, or rather, my old man did. You know damned well that when your mother sold him the property she cheated him of the mineral rights. Oh, she was bloody clever, wasn’t she? She even kept hold of that bit of land at the bottom where the mine is now – just enough land to put up the crushing mill to work the ore she gets out of our land.’
Ballard rubbed his eyes. ‘That’s not the way it was, Eric. It was my father who separated the mineral rights from the property. He did it in his will. Your father didn’t buy the land for five years after that. 1948, wasn’t it?’
‘The hell with it!’ said Eric. ‘She still gets the gold.’
‘No, she doesn’t,’ said Ballard. ‘She doesn’t hold the mineral rights.’
‘Pull the other one,’ scoffed Eric. ‘You’re all Ballards.’
Matt Houghton drummed his fingers on the table. ‘We seem to have left the subject.’ He glanced nervously at Eric.
‘Yes,’ said McGill. ‘I don’t know what this is all about but I don’t think it has anything to do with snow on a hillside. But those missing trees do; there’s nothing left to bind the snow.’
Eric shrugged and sat down again. ‘It’s a lousy piece of land, anyway. Too bloody steep for cattle, and I couldn’t even get in the hay crop this year.’
McGill’s head jerked up. ‘What hay crop?’ he said sharply.
‘What do you care?’
‘You’d better tell me. What happened to your hay crop?’
John Peterson rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘For God’s sake, Eric! Indulge his curiosity. Then perhaps we can get this meeting over. I’ve got things to do.’
Eric shrugged. ‘First it was the rain – the crop was sodden, so we couldn’t take it in. I thought we’d have a dry spell, but we didn’t – it rained right in to the winter, so I gave it up. It was rotting in the fields, anyway.’
‘And you just left it,’ said McGill. ‘And it’s still there uncut. Is that it?’
‘That’s right,’ said Eric, and added touchily, ‘But what’s it got to do with you I’m damned if I know.’
McGill speared him with a long