The Snow Tiger / Night of Error. Desmond Bagley
music. ‘Of course I’m serious. I don’t joke about things like this. I want you to get on to the Ministry of Civil Defence to let them know about it. We may need help fast.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ said Crowell faintly.
‘You don’t have to understand,’ snapped Ballard. ‘Just tell them that the township of Hukahoronui is in danger of being blotted out.’
McGill’s finger marked a line in the telephone book. He looked up as someone ran past and saw Charlie Peterson heading for Ballard at a dead run. He dropped the book and jumped after him.
Charlie grabbed Ballard by the shoulder, and Ballard shouted, ‘What the hell …?’
‘I’m going to break you in half,’ said Charlie.
Lost in the uproar was a soft rumble of distant thunder. Ballard punched at Charlie, hampered by the telephone he held. From the wildly waving earpiece came the quacking sound of Crowell in Auckland. McGill laid hands on Charlie and hauled him away bodily.
Ballard, breathing heavily, put the telephone to his ear. Crowell said, ‘… going on there? Are you there, Ballard? What’s …?’
The line went dead.
McGill spun Charlie around and laid him cold with a right cross to the jaw just as all the lights went out.
‘After the lights went out things got pretty confused,’ said Cameron. He half turned in his chair and spoke to the nurse in a low voice. The nurse got up and poured him a glass of water, and when Cameron took it, his hand was shaking.
Harrison watched him carefully. ‘You’ve been giving evidence for quite a long time, Mr Cameron, and I think you should stand down for the moment. Since we are taking evidence chronologically the next witness should naturally be Mr Crowell. Thank you, Mr Cameron.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Cameron got to his feet painfully, assisted by the male nurse, and hobbled slowly across the hall.
Reed said, ‘Will Mr Crowell come forward?’
A short, stout man got to his feet and walked up to the rostrum with some reluctance. As he sat down he turned his head sideways to look at Rickman, who nodded reassuringly. Reed said, ‘What is your full name?’
Crowell licked his lips nervously, and coughed, ‘Henry James Crowell.’
‘And your occupation, Mr Crowell?’
‘I’m the chairman of several companies, including the Hukahoronui Mining Company.’
Harrison said, ‘Do you own shares in that company?’
‘I have a minority holding, yes.’
‘Mr Ballard was the managing director of that company, was he not?’
‘Yes.’
‘What were his responsibilities?’
Crowell frowned. ‘I don’t understand the question.’
‘Come, Mr Crowell. Surely Mr Ballard had duties which were defined.’
‘Of course, sir. He had the normal duties of a managing director – to see to the total interests of the company under the guidance of the board of directors.’
‘Which was headed by yourself.’
‘That is correct.’
‘You have been listening to evidence relating to a telephone call which you made to Mr Ballard. Did you, in fact, make that call?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I had been away from home and arrived back late on the Saturday night. My secretary had left a list of messages from Mr Ballard to the effect that I should contact him. From the number and tenor of these messages I judged the matter to be urgent, so I telephoned him immediately.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He said something about an avalanche. I didn’t quite understand – he was very indistinct.’
‘Didn’t you ask him to explain further?’
‘Yes.’ Crowell’s hands twitched. ‘There was a lot of noise going on at his end – music and so forth. He wasn’t very coherent.’
Harrison regarded him thoughtfully, and then moved his eyes sideways. ‘Yes, Mr Smithers?’
‘Can the witness state whether or not Mr Ballard asked him to contact the Ministry of Civil Defence to warn them of impending danger at Hukahoronui?’
Harrison’s eyes returned to Crowell who wriggled in his seat. ‘He did say something along those lines, but there was a lot of noise on the line. A lot of shouting and screaming.’ He paused. ‘Then I was cut off.’
‘What did you do then?’ asked Harrison.
‘I talked it over with my wife.’
A ripple of amusement passed over the hall. Harrison knocked sharply with his gavel. ‘Did you contact the Ministry of Civil Defence?’
Crowell hesitated. ‘No, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘I thought it was some sort of practical joke. With that music and uproar on the line … well, I thought …’ His voice tailed away.
‘You thought Mr Ballard was joking?’ queried Harrison.
Both Lyall and Rickman had their hands up. Harrison picked Rickman and nodded. ‘Did you think Mr Ballard was drunk?’ asked Rickman. Lyall grinned and hauled down his hand.
‘I did.’
‘When you said that Mr Ballard was incoherent that was what you meant, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Crowell. He smiled gratefully at Rickman.
‘You must not lead the witness,’ said Harrison mildly.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Chairman.’ Rickman smiled encouragingly at Crowell. ‘Who appointed Mr Ballard as managing director?’
‘The instruction came from London – from a majority shareholder.’
‘You had nothing to do with his appointment, then. Could we say that Mr Ballard was foisted upon you?’
‘As a minority shareholder I didn’t have much say in the matter.’
‘If you had had a say in the matter whom would you have picked as managing director?’
‘Mr Dobbs, who was mine manager.’
‘And who is now dead.’
Crowell bowed his head and said nothing.
‘That is all,’ said Rickman.
‘What did you think of Mr Ballard when you first met him?’ asked Harrison.
Crowell shrugged. ‘I thought he was a personable enough young man – perhaps a little too young for the job.’
‘Did you suspect him of any proclivities towards drunkenness or practical joking?’
‘They did not present themselves – then.’
‘But they did eventually? When?’
‘On that evening, Mr Chairman.’
Harrison sighed, exasperated at Crowell’s woolly-mindedness. ‘But we have heard evidence that Mr Ballard was neither drunk nor playing a practical joke. Why should you not believe what he said on that occasion?’
Crowell shook his head unhappily and looked