‘And yet you have a managing directorship in your gift?’
Ben offered his sharklike grin. ‘Your uncles are not the only ones who can pull strings from time to time. Mind you, I can’t do it too often.’
Ian thought about it. ‘Where is the mine?’
‘South Island.’ Ben’s voice was studiedly casual. ‘Place called Hukahoronui.’
‘No!’ It was torn from Ian involuntarily.
‘What’s the matter? Scared to go back?’ Ben’s upper lip drew back showing his teeth. ‘If you are then you’re no good blood of mine.’
Ian took a deep breath. ‘Do you know what it means? To go back? You know how I loathe the place.’
‘So you were unhappy there – that was a long time ago.’ Ben leaned forward, bearing down heavily on the stick. ‘If you turn down this offer you’ll never be happy again – I can guarantee it. And it won’t be because of anything I’ll do, for there’ll be no recriminations on my part. It’s what you’ll have to live with inside yourself that’ll do the trick. For the rest of your life you’ll wonder about it.’
Ian stared at him. ‘You’re an old devil.’
The old man chuckled deep in his throat. ‘That’s as may be. Young Ian, now listen you to me. I had four sons and three of them aren’t worth the powder to blow ‘em to hell. They’re conniving, they’re unscrupulous and they’re crooked, and they’re making Ballard Holdings into a stink in the City of London.’ Ben drew himself up. ‘God knows I was no angel in my time. I was rough and tough, I drove a hard bargain and maybe I cut a corner when it was needed, but that was in the nature of the times. But nobody ever accused Ben Ballard of being dishonest and nobody ever knew me to go back on my word. With me it was a word and a handshake, and that was recognized in the City as an iron-clad contract. But nobody will take your uncles’ words – not any more. Anyone dealing with them must hire a regiment of lawyers to scrutinize the fine print.’
He shrugged. ‘But there it is. They run Ballard Holdings now. I’m an old man and they’ve taken over. It’s in the nature of things, Ian.’ His voice became milder. ‘But I had a fourth son and I hoped for a lot from him, but he was ruined by a woman, just as she damned near ruined you before I had the wit to jerk you out of that valley in New Zealand.’
Ian’s voice was tight. ‘Let’s leave my mother out of this.’
Ben held up his hand placatingly. ‘I like your loyalty, Ian, even though I think it’s misplaced. You’re not a bad son of your father just as he wasn’t a bad son of mine – not really. The trouble was I handled the matter badly at the time.’ He looked blindly into the past, then shook his head irritably. ‘But that’s gone by. It’s enough that I got you out of Hukahoronui. Did I do right there?’
Ian’s voice was low. ‘I’ve never thanked you for that. I’ve never thanked you for that or for anything else.’
‘Oh, you got your degree and you went to the Johannesburg School of Mines and from there to Colorado; and after that the Harvard Business School. You have a good brain and I didn’t like to see it wasted.’ He chuckled. ‘Bread cast on the waters, boy; bread cast on the waters.’ He leaned forward. ‘You see, lad; I’ve come for repayment.’
Ian felt his throat constrict. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll please an old man by taking this job in Hukahoronui. Mind, you don’t have to take it – you’re a free agent. But I’d be pleased if you did.’
‘Do I have to make up my mind now?’
Ben’s voice was sardonic. ‘Do you want to talk it over with your mother?’
‘You’ve never liked her, have you?’
‘She was a whining, puling schoolmarm, afraid of the world, who dragged a good man down to her crawling level. Now she’s a whining, puling woman, old before her time because she’s always been afraid of the world and of living, and she’s trying to do the same to another man.’ Ben was harsh. ‘Why do you think I call you “boy” and “lad” when you’re a grown man of thirty-five? Because that’s all you are yet. For Christ’s sake, make a decision of your own for once in your life.’
Ian was silent. At last he said, ‘All right, I’ll go to Hukahoronui.’
‘Alone – without her?’
‘Alone.’
Ben did not appear to be elated; he merely nodded his head gravely. He said, ‘There’s quite a town there now. I doubt if you’d recognize it, it’s grown so much. I was there a couple of years ago before my damned doctor said I shouldn’t travel any more. The place even has a mayor. The first mayor’s name was John Peterson. Quite a power in the community the Petersons are.’
‘Oh Jesus!’ said Ian. ‘Are they still there?’
‘What would you expect? Of course they’re still there. John, Eric and Charles – they’re still there.’
‘But not Alec.’ Ian appeared to be addressing the back of his hands.
‘No – not Alec,’ Ben agreed.
Ian looked up. ‘You’re really asking for something, aren’t you? What the hell do you expect of me? You know damned well that putting a Ballard into Huka is like putting a detonator into a stick of dynamite.’
Ben’s eyebrows rose. ‘The Petersons being the dynamite, I presume.’ He leaned forward. ‘I’ll tell you what I want. I want you to run that bloody mine better than it’s been run up to now. It’s a tough job I’ve handed you. That old fool, Fisher, couldn’t keep control – that’s one thing. For another, Dobbs, the mine manager, is a chronic fence-sitter – and, for number three – Cameron, the engineer, is a worn-out American has-been who is holding on with his fingertips because he knows it’s the last job he’ll ever have and he’s scared witless that he’ll lose it. You have to put some backbone into that lot.’
Ben leaned back in his chair. ‘Of course,’ he said musingly, ‘the Petersons won’t welcome you with open arms. It’s not likely, is it, when it’s a family tradition of theirs that they were robbed of the mine? A lot of poppycock, of course, but that’s what they believe – and, Ian, always remember that men are not governed by facts but by what they believe.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, I can see you might have trouble with the Petersons.’
‘You can stop needling,’ said Ian Ballard. ‘I said I’d go.’
The old man made as if to rise, then paused. ‘There is one thing. If anything serious should happen – to Ballard Holdings or to me – get in touch with Bill Stenning.’ He thought awhile. ‘On second thoughts, don’t bother. Bill will get in touch with you fast enough.’
‘What’s this about?’
Don’t worry; it may never happen.’ Ben got slowly to his feet and made his way to the door. He stopped halfway across the room and held up his blackthorn. ‘I doubt if I’ll want this any more. I’ll send it to you tomorrow. You’ll need it. When you’ve finished with it don’t send it back – throw it away.’
He paused outside the door and raised his voice. ‘You can come in now, Harriet. No need to listen at the keyhole.’
THE HEARING
First Day
ONE
The great hall was unexpectedly and floridly magnificent. Built in the mid-nineteenth century at the height of the Gothic Revival and designed by an architect who was, equally unexpectedly, a direct descendant of Simon de Montfort, it brought medieval England to the Southern Hemisphere and to that more-than-English city, Christchurch. Lofty, with an arched ceiling, painted and carved, it abounded in corbels, pillars, lancets and wood panelling, and every surface that could possibly be carved was carved to a fare-thee-well. There was also a lot of stained glass.
Dan Edwards, doyen of the Press of Christchurch, was blind to the incongruity of the scene; he had seen it too often before. He was more concerned about the floor which creaked abominably as the ushers walked beneath the Press gallery setting out note-pads and pencils. ‘The acoustics are lousy,’ he said. ‘And that bloody kauri floor doesn’t make things better.’
‘Can’t they oil it or something?’ asked Dalwood, who was from Auckland.
‘T
hey’ve tried everything but nothing seems to work. I’ll tell you what – let’s do a pool. If I miss anything I’ll take it from you – and vice versa.’
Dalwood shrugged. ‘Okay.’ He looked over the edge of the Press gallery to the dais immediately beneath. Three high-backed chairs were set behind the rostrum, and before each chair was a new foolscap note-pad with two ball-point pens to the left and three newly sharpened pencils to the right. Together with the water carafes and the glasses, the whole looked remarkably like place settings at a dining table.
Edwards followed his glance and then nodded towards the public gallery, already full, at the north end of the hall. ‘They’re going to make a meal of this.’
Dalwood nudged him and indicated the door beneath the public gallery. ‘There’s young Ballard. He’s brought a legal army with him.’
Edwards studied the young man who walked at the head of a phalanx of older, soberly dressed men. He pursed his lips. ‘The question is whether they’re representing him or the company. If I were Ballard I’d be keeping a tight sphincter.’
‘A sacrificial lamb?’
‘A lamb to the slaughter,’ agreed Edwards. He looked down at the rostrum. ‘Things are happening.’
The hum of conversation died as three men took their places at the chairs behind the rostrum. One of the two stenographers looked up and held his hands poised expectantly over the keys of his machine. There was a rustle as everyone arose.
The three men sat down and a fourth came forward and sat at the desk in front of the rostrum. He laid a sheaf of papers before him and consulted the uppermost document. The man above him, in the centre of the rostrum, was elderly with a shock of white hair and deeply lined face. He looked down at the virgin pad in front of him and pushed it away. When he spoke he spoke quietly and in an even voice.
‘In the winter of the year, on the eighteenth of July, a disaster occurred in the township of Hukahoronui on the South Island of New Zealand in which fifty-four people lost their lives. The New Zealand Government has appointed a Commission of Inquiry, of which I am Chairman. My name is Arthur Harrison and I am Rector of Canterbury University.’
He moved his hands apart. ‘With me are two assessors, both well qualified by their knowledge and experience to sit on this Commission. On my left we have Professor J. W. Rolandson of the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research.’ Harrison paused. ‘In the interests of brevity his department will, in future, be referred to as the DSIR.’
Rolandson smiled and nodded.
‘On my right sits Mr F. G. French of the New Zealand Mines Department. The gentleman immediately below me is Mr John Reed, barrister-at-law; he is Secretary to the Commission.’ Harrison surveyed the tables in the hall. ‘There are several interested parties present. Perhaps they would identify themselves, beginning from the right.’
The well-fed, middle-aged man seated next to Ballard rose to his feet. ‘John Rickman, barrister, representing the Hukahoronui Mining Company, Proprietary, Limited.’
There was a long pause before the man at the next table got to his feet, and Edwards whispered, ‘Ballard has no personal representation.’
‘Michael Gunn, barrister, representing the General Miners’ Union of New Zealand and the relatives of its members who lost their lives in the disaster.’
‘Alfred Smithers, barrister, representing the Ministry of Civil Defence.’
‘Peter Lyall, barrister, representing Charles Stewart Peterson and Eric Parnell Peterson.’
There was a sound of surprise in the room, a compound of sudden involuntary movement and indrawn breath. Edwards looked up from his notes. ‘Why should they think they need legal help? This sounds promising.’
Harrison waited until the stir died away. ‘I see we are greatly endowed with legal aid. I must therefore warn the legal gentlemen present that this is not a Court of Law. It is a Commission of Inquiry which is empowered to make its own rules of procedure. Evidence will be heard here which would not necessarily be admissible before a Court of Law. The object of this Commission is to find the truth of what happened during the events which led up to the avalanche at Hukahoronui, during the avalanche itself, and what happened afterwards.’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘Adversary tactics, such as are common in law courts, will be frowned upon here. We wish to find the truth unimpeded by legal technicalities, and the reason we wish to find the truth is to make certain that such a disaster does not happen again. The force of this consideration is so great that the Commission hereby rules that any evidence given here may not be used in any future legal action other than criminal which may eventuate as a result of the avalanche at Hukahoronui. The protection of lives in the future is of more importance than the punishment of those who may be felt to be guilty of acts of omission or commission arising out of the disaster. The Commission is legally empowered to make such a ruling and I hereby do so.’
Gunn hastily rose to his feet. ‘Mr Chairman; do you not think that is an arbitrary decision? There will be matters of compensation arising. If interested parties are denied the use of evidence in a future legal action, surely an injustice will be done.’
‘Mr Gunn, I have no doubt that the government will appoint an arbitrator who will study the findings of this Commission and make the necessary dispositions. Does that satisfy you?’
Gunn bobbed his head, a pleased expression on his face. ‘Indeed it does, Mr Chairman.’
Dalwood murmured to Edwards, ‘No wonder he’s pleased. It’s all going to happen here – a bloody drumhead courtmartial with no holds barred.’
Edwards grunted. ‘He’ll not get much past old Harrison.’
‘And now we come to the question of witnesses. Some citizens have come forward voluntarily to give evidence here, others have been subpoena’d by one or more of the interested parties.’ Harrison frowned. ‘I, and my fellow members on the Commission, have been much exercised as to how the evidence should be taken, and we have decided that it shall be taken in chronological order, insofar as that is possible. Because of this, any person giving evidence may be asked to step down before his evidence is wholly completed if we find it necessary to do some filling in. It follows, then, that all witnesses should hold themselves in readiness at all times during the sitting of the Commission.’
‘Mr Chairman!’
Rickman was on his feet. Harrison said, ‘Yes, Mr Rickman?’
‘Such a condition is likely to be onerous on certain of the witnesses. Some of them are busy men with duties which lie outside this room. This is likely to be a long inquiry and I do not feel that such a condition is entirely fair.’
‘When you refer to certain of the witnesses can I take it that you refer to Mr Ballard?’ asked Harrison drily.
‘Mr Ballard is one such witness,’ conceded Rickman. ‘Out of consideration for him it would be better if he could give his evidence and retire.’
‘Is Mr Ballard a citizen of New Zealand?’
‘No, Mr Chairman; he is a United Kingdom subject.’
‘And would his retirement from this hall be as far away as England?’
Rickman bent down and spoke quietly to Ballard who replied in equally low tones. Rickman straightened. ‘It is true that there are certain matters in the United Kingdom which urgently require Mr Ballard’s attention.’
Harrison’s voice was cold. ‘If I thought it was Mr Ballard’s intention to leave New Zealand during the sitting of this Commission I would ask the relevant authority to relieve him of his passport. This inquiry is a serious matter, Mr Rickman.’
‘I am sure it is not Mr Ballard’s intention to flout the authority of the Commissioners,’ said Rickman hastily. He bent down again and spoke to Ballard, then he rose and said, ‘Mr Ballard has no intention of leaving New Zealand at the present time.’
‘I would prefer to hear that from Mr Ballard.’ Harrison leaned forward. ‘Is that correct, Mr Ballard?’
Ballard stood, and said in a low voice. ‘That is correct, sir. My
time is at the disposal of the Commissioners.’
‘In that case you will have no objection to attending this inquiry with the rest of the witnesses. Thank you.’
In the Press gallery Edwards said, ‘My God! Whoever Rickman is representing, he’s not representing Ballard. He set him up just to knock him down.’
Harrison said, ‘This inquiry will not have the formality of a law court, but neither will it be a free-for-all. Representatives of the interested parties may address the witnesses at the discretion of the Chairman. It will not be necessary to disturb the sacro-iliac by standing each time – a mere raising of the hand will suffice. The assessors may question the witnesses in their respective fields of expertise.’
He put his hands together. ‘Since we are gathering information in chronological order it becomes necessary to decide at which point of time to begin. From depositions laid before the Commission I gather that it was the appearance of Mr Ballard in Hukahoronui which led to a series of events which may – or may not – have relevance to the disaster which took place some weeks later. That is for this inquiry to decide. Be that as it may, I think the first witness should be Mr Ballard.’
Reed, the secretary, said, ‘Will you come forward, Mr Ballard, and sit down there?’ He indicated an ornately carved chair a little to the right of the rostrum. He waited until Ballard was seated, then said, ‘Your name is Ian Dacre Ballard?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you are managing director of the Hukahoronui Mining Company, Proprietary, Limited?’
‘No, sir.’
A hum as of a disturbed hive of bees filled the air. Harrison waited until it had died away, then said quietly, ‘All present will be silent during the questioning of witnesses.’ He leaned forward. ‘Thank you, Mr Reed; I’ll take it from here. Mr Ballard, at the time of the avalanche were you managing director of the company?’
The Snow Tiger / Night of Error Page 2