The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

Rick had not realized that the bamboo floor was nothing more than a latticework of bamboo strips. He could look right up between them and see the occupants of the room!

There was Lazada, of course, and Nast. And with them were two Chinese.

Nast was talking, "Don't you worry about delivery. If I say I'll get the skull into Macao, I'll do it. You just worry about the price."

Rick recognized the name of Macao. It was the Portuguese colony on the Chinese coast just below Hong Kong. It had the reputation of being the gathering place for smugglers, gun-runners, Chinese river pirates, and equally unsavory folk.

One Chinese spoke in sibilant, accented English. "The price you ask is too much. The skull is worth its exact weight in gold, at fifty American dollars an ounce. What do we care if it is a very old native religious object? That has value only for an Ifugao, not a Chinese, and our customers are not Ifugaos."

Rick gasped. Lazada and Nast were intending to sell the skull just for the gold in it!

Lazada put his hand on a box that sat beside him on the floor. "The customers you have usually want bullion gold, true. But perhaps you have one very wealthy customer who could use a museum piece of great value."

"If we could have the skull legally, yes. But it is the only one of its kind. In a few days the press will have sent its description to every city in the world, because its loss is a good news story. No one in his right mind would buy such an object."

"I'm afraid he's right," Nast said. "We'll have to settle for its value in weight. But that's worth something."

Chahda pulled Rick's sleeve, then Scotty's. The boys followed him from under the house back to the edge of the clearing. He whispered, "See the box? I'm sure that is skull. Now, you feel brave?"

"What's your plan?" Scotty asked.

Chahda drew his bolo. "Bamboo cuts easy. Two swings and box falls into our hands. We run like wild men, they not catch."

Rick objected. "The skull is too heavy. We couldn't run with it easily. They'd catch whoever had it."

Scotty nodded. "And the box is too small for two people to get a good grip on it. We'd fall all over each other."

"Could be," Chahda agreed, but he was not convinced. He said that there must be some way to get the box.

Rick studied the house as though the sight of it might give him inspiration. The house didn't, but something else did. "The purloined letter!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Remember the story by Poe? No one found the letter because it was in the most obvious place – so obvious that no one looked." He whispered his daring plan.

Scotty chuckled. "I'll even forgive you for biting me in Baguio, for that one."

Chahda salaamed. "Mighty is the mind of Rick. I glad you on my side. Let's go."

They sneaked back to the house and made preparations for the audacious recovery of the box. Chahda tested the edge of his bolo, reached up with it, and measured the length of his stroke and where the blade would touch. It would work. He looked at the boys expectantly.

Rick knew that bamboo was remarkable stuff. It had great strength against nearly everything except a sharp blade applied across its grain. But it had to be cut cleanly. Also, Chahda would have to make two cuts before the box could drop through the floor. On the first cut, Lazada and Nast would be moving. They could make it down the stairs before the second cut was made.

He shook his head at Chahda. Not yet. He motioned to Scotty and together they examined the stairs, which ran down the outside of the framing. Scotty gestured toward the boxes stacked at one corner of the house. They examined them. The boxes were full of a special kind of sea shell used commercially in the Philippines. They were fairly heavy.

Working together, they piled a few boxes on the stairs. Anyone not watching his footing might fall over them.

Then Scotty motioned to a stack of bamboo poles just outside the house pilings. He whispered, "You help Chahda. I'll use one of these." He selected a long one about two inches in diameter and held it in both hands like a lance. With Scotty standing beside the stairs, the pole would reach almost through the door of the hut.

Scotty nodded. Rick stepped to a position beside Chahda and nodded.

Chahda flexed his muscles, wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle of his bolo, spread his feet and swung.

The steel blade hit the bamboo floor and sliced through, flying in a great arc.

There were yells from the men upstairs. Chahda swung again as running feet made the floor vibrate. Scotty gave a wild yell and charged like a knight attacking an enemy. The bamboo pole caught Nast in the stomach and drove him back into the hut.

The box containing the skull slid and caught.

Chahda swung again, in desperation, and the box dropped through! Rick caught it, and the weight would have driven him to the ground had not Chahda given a hand.

They rushed the box to its prearranged hiding place, then Rick gave a piercing whistle. They ran, all three of them, in three different directions.

Chahda headed for the jeep. He ran quietly. Scotty headed south, yelling as he went; Rick ran north, giving an occasional bellow. That was to draw the pursuit away from Chahda, so he could get to the jeep undisturbed.

The pursuit had organized, apparently, because both Nast and Lazada were barking orders. Rick kept yelling, but he was now in the brush. Scotty was yelling, too.

Rick pushed his way through the brush and emerged on the bank of a river or estuary of some kind. Beyond, on the opposite bank, were rows of wooden forms that marked the outline of salt pans. Water was let into the square pools in the early morning, and by nightfall it had evaporated, leaving its salt behind.

For a tense moment Rick waited. Perhaps he was not being followed. Perhaps they had followed Scotty. Then he heard the brush snapping and knew they were on his trail. He had to keep going. He stepped into the water and went right on until it was over his head. He spluttered, his eyes stinging from the salt. The water was brine, already partially evaporated and ready for the salt pans.

A few strokes took him to the opposite bank. He climbed out onto the salt pans, his clothes dripping and his shoes soggy. He ran.

He was almost across the field of salt pans when a shot whistled past. He bent low and ran faster, remembering that Nast carried a .38 in a shoulder holster.

The second shot was closer, but not close enough. He reached the field beyond the salt pans and headed for a coconut grove about three hundred feet ahead. The field was covered with a low-growing vine of some sort. He floundered and tripped, then got to his feet again, looking back over his shoulder. Apparently the pursuers were looking for a way across the water. He couldn't see them.

He reached the shadow of the coconut grove and stopped, glad of a chance to wring out his clothes. He did so, a garment at a time, watching his trail. In a few moments he saw two men emerge from a far corner of the salt pans and start across. For a moment he turned to run, then an idea struck him and he grinned.

There was pretty complete darkness. He could see and be seen in the open. But under the palms he would be invisible from a distance of twenty yards. He need not run; he could wait until the pursuit passed, then walk leisurely to the airport, get a cab, and go home. Chahda probably was already there. He thought he had heard the jeep engine start. Even if pursued, Chahda could get away all right. The jeep was faster than the limousine on rough roads.

Scotty's fate was less certain. If two men were after Rick, the other two probably were after Scotty. They had scattered just for the purpose of splitting the enemy forces, and to allow Chahda time to get the jeep underway.

As Rick watched, the two men reached the near edge of the salt pans. One produced a flashlight and they walked along the edge of the salt pans shining the light at the ground.

Rick wondered. Surely they weren't looking for foot-prints. Both the salt pans and the field were perfectly dry. He wasn't particularly afraid of the flashlight. He would wait until they were close to the palm grove, then move laterally away from them and lie flat on the ground. The light couldn't pick him out from any great distance.

The men walked slowly down the edge of the salt pans until they reached the place where Rick had left the pans and entered the field, then, as surely as blood-hounds, they followed the route he had taken.

He stared, amazed. How had they tracked him? Then, suddenly, he knew. Makahiya! The sensitive mimosa! The field was covered with it. And where he had walked, the mimosa's leaves were rolled up tightly!

Rick turned and ran through the grove, trying to be silent. He used a beacon from nearby Manila Airport as a guide, and in a moment he saw red lights on the other side of the grove. It was the field. They were boundary lights.

He saw instantly that he was in a bad spot. The only way to go was straight ahead, across the open airport. He would be seen instantly when his pursuers emerged from the grove, and from then on it would be a foot race. There was nothing else to do but go on. He climbed over the airport fence and started for the lights of the administration building a mile away.

To conserve his strength and wind he kept his pace to a dogtrot. He crossed one paved strip and cast a look behind in time to see the pursuers climb the fence. A yell told him he had been seen. He started to zigzag, anticipating a bullet. His spine tingled and there was a crawling sensation between his shoulder blades. But when the shot did come it was such a wide miss that he did not even give an instinctive duck.

Somewhere down the line a big plane was getting ready to take off, the pilot was checking his magnetos, revving up his engines. He searched for lights as he ran and saw them over a mile down the field. It was a Strato-cruiser, probably bound for America. Then he saw the runway ahead and realized that it would be a race to see whether or not he got across before the plane reached that point. The lights told him that the plane was already moving. He lengthened his stride.

He had a choice. He could stop and wait until the big plane passed, or he could run for it and hope to beat it. If he stopped, it would give his pursuers a chance to catch up.

He ran faster, still breathing easily. But there were signs that his wind was giving out. He cast anxious glances down the field. The big plane was rolling, its engines roaring. He tried to gauge the point where it would be air-borne, but it was too hard. It should be in the air by the time it reached him, but he couldn't be sure. The runway was only yards ahead now. He sprinted.

The plane roared down at him. Then he was on the runway, realizing that he would not be across in time. In sudden terror he threw himself flat, just as the big plane lifted. The wheels were only a few feet above him as it passed over.

Then he was on his feet, running again, weak from the certainty of a moment ago that he was done for. But the administration building was only a short distance away now, and he found the strength to keep going. He ran past astonished airport personnel, made his way through the crowd that had come to see the flight off, and leaped into a taxi just ahead of the Filipino gentleman who was about to enter.

"Get going!" he panted. "Hurry!" The driver responded with a burst of speed that snapped Rick back against the cushions. He turned and watched through the rear window, but he couldn't see his pursuers. He had made it!

CHAPTER XX

Surprise Package

Colonel Felix Rojas fingered the eagle on one shoulder. "It took me thirty years to become a colonel," he said. "If you are wrong, Colonel Rojas will be Private Rojas by morning. You know that?"

"If Lazada is at home," Rick repeated, "it will mean that he hasn't found the golden skull. If he is not at at home, and doesn't come home, it will mean that he has it."

"You need not worry, Sahib Colonel. Rick has plenty bright idea. Lazada will not find that skull, believe me," Chahda assured him.

Chahda and Scotty had beaten Rick to the hotel, and had found both Rojas and Tony Briotti waiting as a result of the messages the boys had left. Chahda had gotten away easily, and he had lingered in Parañaque, parked in shadow, until he saw Scotty go by. Then he had picked him up. When Rick did not appear, they went to the hotel to wait for word.

Scotty had ditched his pursuers easily by climbing a mango tree and waiting until they passed. He was more at home in the woods at night than any of them, including Chahda.

Tony Briotti asked, "Does your father know what kind of chances you take, Rick?"

Rick grinned. "He's been along on a few expeditions, remember. He knows we can take care of ourselves."

"So do I, now. Colonel, I have faith in the boys' theory. I think we had better go to Lazada's."

Rojas nodded. "Even if it means being broken, the chance is worth it to hang something on that man. Our republic is young. It cannot tolerate men like him in public office. Without proof we cannot touch him, but if the proof is there…"

"It will be," Rick said confidently.

Rojas picked up the phone and asked for a number. He got his connection, gave his name, and asked for Captain Lichauco. To the captain he gave orders. A platoon was to meet him at Lazada's in fifteen minutes. No earlier and no later. Then he phoned Dr. Okola and requested that he, also, be at Lazada's.

"Now," Colonel Rojas said to the Spindrift group, "let us go."

Ten minutes later they got out of the colonel's car in front of Lazada's house. A Sikh guard started to open the door for them, but Chahda stopped him and spoke rapidly in Hindi. The guard replied.

"He here, also car," Chahda said.

Colonel Rojas consulted his watch. "We'll wait here."

The minutes ticked by in silence until the headlights of a truck appeared. The truck pulled up and a young captain got out of the front seat. He saluted. Rojas gave his crisp orders in Tagolog, which the captain relayed to the men on the truck. They climbed down with a minimum of noise and went to surround the house.

"Now," Rojas said, "let us visit Mr. Lazada."

He pushed open the door and marched up the front stairs, the Spindrift group close behind. At the top of the stairs the constabulary colonel brushed aside a houseboy and strode into the living room where Lazada sat with Nast. The two leaped to their feet.

Lazada turned red. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Colonel Rojas bowed. "I regret to inform you that you are under arrest on charges of grand larceny, attempting to sell gold illegally, and conspiracy to smuggle gold out of the country."

Lazada snarled. "I'll have you broken for this, you fool! I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. These American gentlemen have told me quite a story."

"I'm sure of it. And whose word do you take? That of your countryman and senior official, or the word of these foreign adventurers?"

"Theirs," Rojas said. "I will accept from you the custody of a certain golden skull, stolen by you from the Ifugaos."

Lazada had recovered his composure. He chuckled. "I have no golden skull. You are free to search, even without a warrant, Colonel."

"Thank you. Please lead the way to your garage."

"Certainly, but you will find nothing there but my car."

Lazada led the way to the back of the house and down a flight of stairs to a garage. If the sight of constabulary troopers with ready carbines bothered him, he didn't show it. But Nast, obviously, was worried. He kept casting glances at the boys.

"Better give the colonel that shoulder gun you missed me with earlier tonight," Rick told him. "You might hurt yourself with it."

Colonel Rojas held out his hand. "Give."

Nast did.

In the garage was the limousine. Lazada waved at it. "As I told you, nothing here but my car."

"And a golden skull," Rick said. He opened the trunk and reached in for the box!

Lazada screamed with sudden fear and rage. He leaped for Rick. He met Scotty's fist and sat down, hard.

Colonel Rojas had been sweating profusely. Now, at the sight of the golden skull, he took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and smiled contentedly. "We'll need a new Assistant Secretary now," he said happily. "And we'll ship Mr. Nast back to America as an undesirable alien. The authorities there will take him into custody."

"Have you found it? Where is the skull?" someone called.

Dr. Okola came running up the driveway, and with him, in immaculate white linens, was Nangolat!

The group sat in Dr. Okola's office at the museum. Outside, constabulary troopers were on guard. Inside, a fabulous collection of golden and silver artifacts, dominated by the golden skull, received the admiring attention of the Spindrift group, Colonel Rojas, Angel Manotok, and Dr. Okola, with Nangolat as lecturer.

When he had finished describing the various objects and their uses, the Ifugao said, "And now, I must explain. I am here because I gave myself up to Dr. Okola. He, in turn, will hand me to the police. I asked only that I be permitted to examine the treasures."

Tony Briotti shook his head. "I don't understand. You're intelligent, well-educated, and well on the road to becoming a scientist. Why did you do it?"

Nangolat's broad face was sad but composed. "How can I explain? I almost killed my good friend Angel. I attacked innocent American scientists who had no evil intentions toward my people. I goaded the young men of Banaue into war against the wishes of their elders. It is only because my gods watched over me that I do not have your blood on my hands. But how can I explain?"

His dark eyes pleaded for understanding. "You cannot know what it is to an Ifugao or an Igorot. In America you respect your primitives – your Indians. But here, we are just aborigines – primitive animals, eaters of dog. We are sneered at and despised. To Americans we are curiosities. We wear breechcloths and funny hats that we use for pockets."

"Nangolat!" Dr. Okola exclaimed. "I never suspected that you felt like that. I thought we had always treated you as we did any other student."

"You were the ones who treated me as a man," Nangolat admitted. "You and Angel. But when I worked with you in tracing down the golden skull and what it meant to my people, something happened. The more we learned, the more I resented the attitudes of the others, those who despise the Ifugao as a dog-eating animal. I believed that in the golden skull we had the proof that the Ifugaos were better than any of you, that our civilization was older. I lost my civilization. I forgot my friends. I could only think that here was proof of the greatness of the Ifugao, and that the Americans were coming to take it away."

"But we said that the artifacts would remain here," Tony Briotti reminded him. "We told Dr. Okola that we would not ask permission to take them out of the country."

"Yes, but I was worried. I went to Lazada, to plead with him to forbid you to take them under any circumstances, and he told me that he was helpless, officially. He said that the American Government would insist on getting the treasures of my people, and that our own government would have to yield because we need American financial aid."

"Of all the rotten lies!" Rick exclaimed angrily.

"Yes. But he was an official of our government and I believed him. Then he goaded me. He said that only an Ifugao would allow such a thing to happen, because the Ifugaos were less than men. Men would protect their treasures. I was emotionally upset already. His goading drove me berserk. I was truly mad. So, I acted as I did."

"Tell them what happened at Banaue," Okola said gently.

"Dr. Briotti convinced me that he was not trying to steal our treasure. That is, he almost convinced me, and he did convince our priests. But Lazada came, and he said the American ambassador was already demanding custody of the treasure as soon as it was found. You know what happened then."

"We sure do," Scotty said.

"Then the jeep got away, and later the plane came. We did not keep attacking, because many of our young men had lost heart. They couldn't see the sense of rushing into the muzzles of your rifles over some treasure they knew nothing about. I had worked them up to the point of attacking once, but I could not do it again. Then the plane dropped the sack. We did not know what was in it, except that it must be part of the treasure. Lazada carried it to his car. I followed and demanded the bag. He said he had no bag, although it was in plain sight. He was smiling. He said the plane got all the bags; he didn't have any. I saw at once what he was doing. He was going to take the bag and pretend that he had never seen it, and it would be the word of a group of poor Ifugao natives against the word of a great official. I saw red. I reached for him, and Nast struck me with his gun."

Nangolat rubbed his head. "He knocked me out, and he knocked sense into me. I walked to Bontoc and took the bus south. Now I am ready to be punished."

Rick was deeply touched by Nangolat's recital. He remembered how favorably impressed they had been that first day, when they thought he was Angel. "Speaking for myself," he offered, "I am grateful to Nangolat for a warm reception at Banaue, and for an interesting visit to the rice terraces."

Scotty took the cue. "As for me, I haven't had so much fun in a fight since that free-for-all at Canton Charlie's in Hong Kong."

Chahda bowed. "I also represent ancient Asia people. Very grateful to Nangolat for fine demonstration of how Ifugaos fight. Very different from Hindu method."

The three boys looked at Tony. He had suffered the most at Nangolat's hands. Nangolat had tried to kill him, then had kidnaped him, and had intended to take his head.

Tony smiled. "And I am grateful to Nangolat for personally conducting me to Banaue and for putting on such an interesting series of rituals and dances."

Angel Manotok went to Nangolat and took his hand. "Can a Filipino be less of a friend than an American? It was too bad I fell on my head and almost fractured my skull. How nice it was of you, Nangolat, to pretend to be me so I would not lose face with the Americans by not appearing to work for them."

There were tears in the Ifugao's eyes. "What a magnificent group of storytellers you are!"

Colonel Rojas grinned. "Sounded like the truth to me, Nangolat. And if anyone wants to know what kind of men the Ifugaos are, send them to me. I led Mountain Province warriors against the Japanese. They attacked tanks barehanded. They fought like fiends. They made me proud to be a Filipino."

Tony Briotti picked up the golden skull. "We have a lot of work to do, Nangolat. We'll need your help. And all of us will have to testify against Lazada."

"Golly, that's right," Rick said. "What a nuisance that will be. We'll have to wait around for weeks."

"Not that long," Colonel Rojas promised. "This is one case that will be tried in a hurry. But you will have to stay a while. You will my guests. There's a lot of the Philippines you haven't seen. We might even be able to stir up a little excitement for you."

"No, thanks," Rick said.

"Sorry," Chahda said.

"Need peace and quiet," Scotty said.

Tony laughed. "Don't believe them. They may stay quiet until tomorrow, but I doubt it. What do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to take them to Mindoro Island, south of here, to hunt timarau. In case you don't know, those are water buffalo. They rate as the most dangerous game animal in Asia."

"Too exciting for me," Rick said.

But in later years when the Ifugao expedition was mentioned, Rick, Scotty, and Chahda always talked much more about the hunting on Mindoro than they did about their encounter with the Ifugaos. And they were prouder of the timarau heads in the study than of the Ifugao spears that had been thrown at them and brought back by Angel as souvenirs.