The Snow Tiger / Night of Error. Desmond Bagley

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      ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

      ‘Don’t you know? If you trace things back far enough the whole mine is owned by the Ballard family.’

      McGill spluttered into his drink. ‘Well, I’ll be goddamned! I’ve been hobnobbing with the plutocratic capitalists and never knew it. There’s a name for that kind of thing – nepotism. No wonder Dobbs is acid.’

      ‘If it’s nepotism it isn’t doing me any good,’ said Ballard. There was a touch of savagery in his voice. ‘I don’t have a penny except my director’s fees.’

      ‘No shares in the company?’

      ‘No shares in this or any other Ballard company – but tell that to Dobbs and he wouldn’t believe you. I haven’t even tried.’

      McGill’s voice was soft. ‘What’s the matter, Ian? Come from the wrong side of the family?’

      ‘Not really.’ Ballard got up to pour himself another drink. ‘I have a grandfather who’s an egotistical old monster and I had a father who wouldn’t co-operate. Dad told the old boy to go to hell and he’s never forgotten it.’

      ‘The sins of the fathers are visited on the children,’ said McGill thoughtfully. ‘And yet you’re employed by a Ballard company. There must be something there somewhere.’

      ‘They don’t pay me any more than I’m worth – they get value for money.’ Ballard sighed. ‘But God, I could run the company better than it’s run now.’ He waved his glass. ‘I don’t mean this mine, this is a piddling little affair.’

      ‘You call a two million pound company a piddling affair!’ said McGill in wonder.

      ‘I once worked it out. The Ballards control companies with a capital value of two hundred and twenty million pounds. The Ballards’ own shareholdings are about forty-two million pounds. That was a few years ago, though.’

      ‘Jesus!’ said McGill involuntarily.

      ‘I have three rapacious old vultures who call themselves my uncles and half a dozen cousins who follow the breed. They’re only interested in loot and between them they’re running the show into the ground. They’re great ones for merging and asset-stripping, and they squeeze every penny until it hurts. Take this mine. Up in Auckland I have a Comptroller of Accounts who reports to London, and I can’t sign a cheque for more than a thousand dollars without his say-so. And I’m supposed to be in charge.’

      He breathed heavily. ‘When I came here I went underground and that night I prayed we wouldn’t have a visit from the Inspector of Mines before I had time to straighten things out.’

      ‘Had someone been cutting corners?’

      Ballard shrugged. ‘Fisher, the last managing director, was an old fool and not up to the job. I doubt any criminal intent, but negligence combined with parsimony has led to a situation in which the company could find itself in serious trouble. I have a mine manager who can’t make decisions and wants his hand held all the time, and I have a mine engineer who is past it. Oh, Cameron’s all right, I suppose, but he’s old and he’s running scared.’

      ‘You’ve got yourself a packet of trouble,’ said McGill.

      Ballard snorted. ‘You don’t know the half of it. I haven’t said anything about the unions yet, not to mention the attitude of some of the town people.’

      ‘You sound as though you earn your pay. But why the hell stick to a Ballard company if you feel like this?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know – some remnants of family loyalty, I suppose,’ said Ballard tiredly. ‘After all, my grandfather did pay for my education, and quite extensive it was. I suppose I owe him something for that.’

      McGill noted Ballard’s evident depression and tiredness and decided to change the subject. ‘Let’s eat, and I’ll tell you about the ice worms in Alaska.’ He plunged into an improbable story.

       FOUR

      The next morning was bright and sunny and the snow, which had been falling all night, had stopped, leaving the world freshly minted. When Ballard got up, heavy-eyed and unrested, he found Mrs Evans in the kitchen cooking breakfast. She scolded him. ‘You should have let me know when you were coming back. I only learned by chance from Betty Hargreaves last night.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I forgot. Are you cooking for three?’ Mrs Evans usually ate breakfast with him; it was a democratic society.

      ‘I am. Your friend has gone out already, but he’ll be back for a late breakfast.’

      Ballard consulted his watch to discover that he had overslept by more than an hour. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

      When he had showered and dressed he felt better and found McGill in the living-room unwrapping a large parcel. ‘It came,’ said McGill. ‘Your truck got through.’

      Ballard looked at what was revealed; it was a backpack which appeared to contain nothing but sections of aluminium tubing each nestling in an individual canvas pocket. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘The tools of my trade,’ said McGill. Mrs Evans called, and he added, ‘Let’s eat; I’m hungry.’

      Ballard toyed with his breakfast while McGill wolfed down a plateful of bacon and eggs, and pleased Mrs Evans by asking for more. While she was out of the room he said, ‘You asked me here for the skiing, and there’s no time like the present. How’s your leg?’

      Ballard shook his head. ‘The leg is all right, but sorry, Mike – not today. I’m a working man.’

      ‘You’d better come.’ Something in McGill’s tone made Ballard look at him sharply. McGill’s face was serious. ‘You’d better come and see what I’m doing. I want an independent witness.’

      ‘A witness to what?’

      ‘To whatever it is I find.’

      ‘And what will that be?’

      ‘How do I know until I find it?’ He stared at Ballard. ‘I’m serious, Ian. You know what my job is. I’m going to make a professional investigation. You’re the boss man of the mine and you couldn’t make a better witness. You’ve got authority.’

      ‘For God’s sake!’ said Ballard. ‘Authority to do what?’

      ‘To close down the mine if need be, but that depends on what I find, and I won’t know that until I look, will I?’ As Ballard’s jaw dropped McGill said, ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes at what I saw yesterday. It looked like a recipe for instant disaster, and I spent a damned uneasy night. I won’t be happy until I take a look.’

      ‘Where?’

      McGill got to his feet and walked to the window. ‘Come here.’ He pointed at the steep slope above the mine. ‘Up there.’

      Ballard looked at the СКАЧАТЬ