When Ballard came into the house he looked tired and depressed. When he saw McGill he winced as recollection came back. Oh hell! I forgot to tell Mrs Evans we were coming back. Theres no grub ready.
Relax, said McGill. Theres something in the oven McGills Antarctic Burgoo, as served in all the best restaurants south of latitude sixty. Well eat well.
Ballard sighed in relief. I thought wed have to eat in the hotel. Im not too popular there.
McGill let that pass. Theres just one thing I cant find your booze.
Ballard grinned. Come on.
They went into the living-room, and McGill said, I used your phone. I hope you dont mind.
Be my guest. Ballard opened a cupboard and took out a bottle and two glasses.
You get your supplies from Christchurch. I know youre tight for space but is there a chance of getting a parcel in for me?
How big? McGill made sketching motions with his hands, and Ballard said, Is that all? We can do that. He checked his watch. That truck Cameron had trouble with is leaving Christchurch with a load. I might be able to catch it before it leaves.
He crossed the room and picked up the telephone. Hello, Maureen. Ian Ballard here. Can you get me the Christchurch office?
I had a look round town, said McGill. It looks mostly new.
It is. When I lived here it was a tenth of the size.
Nicely laid out, too. Is most of it mine property?
A lot of it. Houses for the married couples and single quarters and a club house for the bachelors. This is a mine house. My predecessor lived in one of the old houses but I prefer this one. I like to be on the spot.
How many mine employees?
At the last count it was a hundred and four including office staff.
And the total population?
A bit over eight hundred, Id say. The mine brought a fair amount of prosperity.
Thats about what I figured, said McGill.
An electronic voice crackled in Ballards ear, and he said, This is Ballard at the mine. Has Sam Jeffries left yet? Put him on will you? There was a pause. Sam, Dr McGill wants to talk to you hold on.
McGill took the telephone. McGill here. Do you know where Advanced Headquarters for Operation Deep Freeze is? Yes... near Harewood Airport. Go to the Headquarters Building and find Chief Petty Officer Finney... yes, finney as in fish... ask him to give you the parcel for me... McGill. Right.
What was all that about? asked Ballard.
McGill took the drink which Ballard offered. I just thought Id keep myself occupied while Im here. He changed the subject. Whats with your Mr Dobbs? He looks as though hes swallowed a lemon.
Ballard smiled wearily and sat down. He has a chip on his shoulder. He reckons he should have been put on the board of directors and have my job, instead of which he got me. To make it worse, my name is Ballard.
Whats that got to do with anything?
Ballard smiled wearily and sat down. He has a chip on his shoulder. He reckons he should have been put on the board of directors and have my job, instead of which he got me. To make it worse, my name is Ballard.
Whats that got to do with anything?
Dont you know? If you trace things back far enough the whole mine is owned by the Ballard family.
McGill spluttered into his drink. Well, Ill be goddamned! Ive been hobnobbing with the plutocratic capitalists and never knew it. Theres a name for that kind of thing nepotism. No wonder Dobbs is acid.
If its nepotism it isnt doing me any good, said Ballard. There was a touch of savagery in his voice. I dont have a penny except my directors fees.
No shares in the company?
No shares in this or any other Ballard company but tell that to Dobbs and he wouldnt believe you. I havent even tried.
McGills voice was soft. Whats 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 whos an egotistical old monster and I had a father who wouldnt co-operate. Dad told the old boy to go to hell and hes never forgotten it.
The sins of the fathers are visited on the children, said McGill thoughtfully. And yet youre employed by a Ballard company. There must be something there somewhere.
They dont pay me any more than Im worth they get value for money. Ballard sighed. But God, I could run the company better than its run now. He waved his glass. I dont 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. Theyre only interested in loot and between them theyre running the show into the ground. Theyre 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 cant sign a cheque for more than a thousand dollars without his say-so. And Im supposed to be in charge.
He breathed heavily. When I came here I went underground and that night I prayed we wouldnt 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 cant make decisions and wants his hand held all the time, and I have a mine engineer who is past it. Oh, Camerons all right, I suppose, but hes old and hes running scared.
Youve got yourself a packet of trouble, said McGill.
Ballard snorted. You dont know the half of it. I havent 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 dont 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 Ballards evident depression and tiredness and decided to change the subject. Lets eat, and Ill 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.
Im 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 hell 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. Whats that?
The tools of my trade, said McGill. Mrs Evans called, and he added, Lets eat; Im 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 theres no time like the present. Hows your leg?
Ballard shook his head. The leg is all right, but sorry, Mike not today. Im a working man.
Youd better come. Something in McGills tone made Ballard look at him sharply. McGills face was serious. Youd better come and see what Im 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. Im serious, Ian. You know what my job is. Im going to make a professional investigation. Youre the boss man of the mine and you couldnt make a better witness. Youve got authority.
For Gods sake! said Ballard. Authority to do what?
To close down the mine if need be, but that depends on what I find, and I wont know that until I look, will I? As Ballards jaw dropped McGill said, I couldnt believe my eyes at what I saw yesterday. It looked like a recipe for instant disaster, and I spent a damned uneasy night. I wont 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 long curve, blinding white in the sunlight. You think... His voice tailed away.
I think nothing until I get evidence one way or the other, said McGill sharply. Im a scientist, not a soothsayer. He shook his head warningly as Mrs Evans came in with a fresh plate of bacon and eggs. Finish your breakfast.
As they sat down he said, I suppose you can find me a pair of skis.
Ballard nodded, his mind busy with the implications of what McGill had said or had not said. McGill dug into his second plateful of breakfast. Then we go skiing, he said lightly.
Two hours later they were nearly three thousand feet above the mine and half way up the slope. They had not talked much and when Ballard had tried McGill advised him to save his breath for climbing. But now they stopped and McGill unslung the backpack, dropping one of the straps over a ski-stick rammed firmly into the snow.
He took off his skis and stuck them vertically into the snow up-slope of where he was standing. Another safety measure, he said conversationally. If theres a slide then the skis will tell someone that weve been swept away. And thats why you dont take off your Oertel cord.
Ballard leaned on his sticks. The last time you talked about avalanches I was in one.