The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

The contact had been a brief one. Chahda had gone, promising to keep in touch with them as best he could. The Hindu boy was on the trail of James Nast, hoping that by keeping close watch he could anticipate, and perhaps prevent, any action Nast might try to take against the Spindrift party.

"Dog Meat," Rick said, grinning, as the two knocked on Tony Briotti's door. "It may be a fine old ceremonial name in this part of the world, but to me it's just a meal for Dismal."

Dismal was the Brant family pup. When Rick thought of the pagans eating dog, he always thought of Dismal served up as a roast, and the thought made him ill. He had decided that he might admire the fine qualities of the Igorot and Ifugao people, but the mental image of Dismal among the poor, beaten mongrels in the dog market would always keep him from being really fond of them.

Tony failed to answer the door. "Probably gone down to breakfast already," Scotty said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Chahda won't have much trouble finding Nast. Baguio isn't very big and there aren't very many Americans. Wonder what Nast will try to do?"

Rick shrugged. "How can we guess? There are so many things about this part of the world we don't know. He might have two dozen slick tricks up his sleeve. The best thing we can do is be on guard all the time. I'm glad we sent Angel out to guard the plane."

As they passed the hotel desk, the clerk hailed them. "Mr. Brant? A message for you."

"Probably from Chahda," Rick said. But he was wrong. The note was from Tony, and it made Rick's eyes widen. He read it aloud:

"'Dear boys. Woke up at dawn with something nagging at me. It broke through my thick skull while I was having coffee. The Ifugao No Palate must be Nangolat. It's the name Okola mentioned – his prize student. I know of no other Ifugao with even a less remote connection. Also, the shape of Angel's face bothers me. I am going to the airport on a hunch. Be back about eight, with Angel.'"

Scotty pointed to a wall clock. It was nearly nine o'clock. They had slept late.

The two boys, without a word, ran for the door. Outside the hotel a Filipino taxi waited. They jumped in and gasped in one voice: "Baguio Airport!"

"The chucklehead," Scotty groaned. "Why didn't he wake us up? Why did he have to go alone?"

"Relax," Rick said, but he didn't really mean it. "It was just an idea he had that this Ifugao might be tied up with Angel. After all, Okola recommended Angel." He recognized the fallacy in his argument as soon as the words were out, but Scotty was already pointing to it.

"Yes. Angel is Okola's boy, and so is this Nangolat. What's more likely than their being close friends? Angel could be giving Nangolat a helping hand."

The taxi climbed the winding streets of Baguio, passed the American military rest camp and the Baguio residence of the American ambassador, and finally entered the airport.

One quick look around the field showed them that the truck was missing. The Sky Wagon was waiting by itself. On Rick's quick instructions the taxi raced to the plane. They got out and took a quick look.

"No sign of damage," Scotty said. "Let's ask at the airport office."

The office was closed. It was operated by Philippine Air Lines, and was only kept open during the day, starting one hour before the day's first flight to Manila or from the big city. The first flight on this day was not until ten thirty.

A pair of workmen with shovels were scratching listlessly at the gravel on the opposite side of the field. The boys jumped into the taxi and told the driver to cross the field.

Rick leaned out. "Did you see a truck?"

The men smiled and nodded.

"How long ago?" Rick called.

The men smiled some more, then shrugged.

The Filipino cab driver spoke to them in Ilokano, the Christian dialect of the province. They answered briefly, smiled at the boys again, and went back to scratching at the gravel. Apparently they were supposed to be leveling the shoulders of the runway. If so, the shoulders would be stooped with age before they were finished.

The Filipino cab driver turned to the boys. "Sir, these men not see truck. They be here since maybe two hours. No truck."

"But they said they did!" Scotty exclaimed.

Rick interrupted, "Ask them if they saw an American, alone."

The driver exchanged quick syllables with the workmen. "They see American. He get in sedan which waiting for him, and go off."

"Who was in the sedan?"

Again the driver translated. "They not see. It on other side of field. Only know maybe three men, maybe American, maybe Filipino. They not know."

"Take us back to the hotel," Rick commanded. "And thanks for interpreting for us."

"They said they saw the truck," Scotty insisted.

Rick shook his head. "Remember what Tony once told us. Never ask a question that can be answered yes or no, or the answer will be yes whether that's the answer or not. That's as true in the Philippines as it is in China or anywhere else in the Orient. I don't think they saw the truck, but I'm sure they did see Tony go off in a sedan. I'm worried, Scotty."

"Same. Of course the men in the sedan could just have offered Tony a lift back to the hotel."

"What were they doing at the airport? The sign on the office door said the first flight from Manila was at ten thirty. No one uses the field but PAL, a few travelers like us, and maybe military planes."

"I don't believe he just got a lift. But it's a possibility."

"We'll soon know," Rick said. "Driver, please hurry."

The Filipino grinned. "Sor, would like to please customer. But hurry on these roads is break the necks, I think so."

"He's right," Scotty agreed. "We'll get there soon enough."

Within a few moments they were back at the hotel. Rick paid the driver and thanked him for the help, then they ran in and confronted the clerk. "Is Dr. Briotti back?"

"I haven't seen him, gentlemen. Just a moment please." The clerk looked in Tony's box. "His key is not here. Have you called his room?"

"Not yet. Would you have seen him if he came in?" Rick asked.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I've been doing some paper work, and unless he came to the desk, I might not notice him."

The boys nodded their thanks and hurried up the stairs to Tony's room. They tried the door, then knocked loudly. There was no answer. They knocked again, waited, then stared at each other bleakly.

"Now what?" Rick had a feeling that Tony was in danger. He didn't know why he felt that way when the only news they had was that he had gone off in a sedan with three men. The workmen hadn't said that he had fought, or that he had been pulled into the car. He voiced his thoughts as he followed Scotty to their room.

"That means nothing," Scotty pointed out. "He probably wouldn't argue with a gun pointing out the window at him. The workmen probably wouldn't have noticed a pistol barrel."

"You're right, as usual. Well, what now?"

"Call the cops?"

"What would we say? Tony hasn't been gone more than an hour or two, so far as we know. That's not reason enough to call the cops. We couldn't tell them about Chahda and what he said. They wouldn't believe any such stories about their Assistant Secretary of the Interior, and if they did, they'd probably be afraid to do much about it. If Tony doesn't show up in another hour or two, we probably ought to call the police. But not yet."

Scotty had worn a jacket because the morning was cool. But now the room was warm, and he went to the closet to hang it up.

"Hey, Tony must have taken the earth scanner with him."

Rick was in the act of sitting down on his bed. He bounced up like a rubber ball. "What? He couldn't have!"

"Well, it's gone. And who else would have taken it?"

"Tony didn't. He hasn't been in this room, except last night when Chahda was here, and he didn't take the scanner then."

Scotty snapped his fingers. "You gave Angel your key and told him to clean up!"

Rick slumped down on the bed again. That was it, of course. It had to be. No one else had had the chance to get the equipment, barring the possibility that the hotel personnel were dishonest, and there was no reason to suspect them.

"Then the equipment went with him last night. And we didn't notice until now. But we would have noticed if it had been gone, wouldn't we? I've been to the closet a dozen times and so have you."

"Means nothing. I don't know why I noticed just now that the stuff was gone. But there was nothing to call our attention to it last night or this morning. Anyway, it was behind my big suitcase – I know. I knocked the suitcase over when I closed the closet door this morning, and I didn't stop to pick it up. It's still on its side. That's why I noticed that the earth scanner wasn't there."

"If we needed any proof that Angel is a bad one, probably in cahoots with Nangolat, we have it. Scotty, what are we going to do?"

"Call the cops," Scotty said grimly. "Now we have a theft to report." He strode for the phone, but before he could pick it up there was a sharp ring. Scotty answered. "Yes?" He listened, hung up hastily, and turned to Rick.

"The clerk says there's a Filipino in the lobby who wants to see us. Says he knows us."

"Chahda! It must be. He's posing as a pagan of some kind, and we don't know any other Filipinos."

Rick's thoughts were expressed as he and Scotty ran down the hall, then took the stairs four at a time.

"That's not Chahda!" Scotty pointed to a big Filipino who was striding back and forth in front of the desk. The man was Scotty's size, and built in about the same proportions. Around his head was what at first glance appeared to be a kind of turban. At second glance the boys saw that it was a thick bandage.

The Filipino saw them and came toward them with quick strides. His face probably was pleasant most of the time, but now it was grim, his mouth creased in lines of pain.

"Mr. Brant and Mr. Scott?"

"Yes," Rick said. "And you…"

"I am Angel Manotok!" the Filipino said.

CHAPTER VIII

The Bontoc Road

"Dr. Okola instructed me in what I was to do," the real Angel Manotok said. "Nangolat was present. He was very helpful. He even gave me the name of an Ifugao priest who would help us. A man by the name of Poison."

Angel didn't seem to think the name was odd, so Rick said nothing.

"I live alone," Angel continued. "I went home that evening to pack my stuff, so I would be ready to go to the hotel to meet you early in the morning. Nangolat was waiting, and he had a gun. He made me turn around, then he said, 'Angel, I am sorry. I only do this for the good of my people, not for myself.' There was a great blow on the back of my head and I knew nothing more. I woke up in the St. Luke Hospital. They said I had a fractured skull, at first. But they were wrong."

"Thank heavens," Rick said. "You were lucky."

"So lucky," Angel agreed. "What I can never know is why Nangolat did not take my head. Before, I thought he was very civilized and intelligent. But when I saw him in my nipa hut, he was crazy. He did not talk crazy, but he was. It was in his eyes. When I saw him and the gun in his hand, and then I saw his eyes, I knew I was dead. But I did not know why, because he was my friend."

"Do you know why now?" Scotty asked.

"No. It does not matter. It only matters that he was my friend and he gave me no chance. He did not fight me, although we are evenly matched. He struck me from behind. I will go with you now to the Ifugao country, and perhaps we will find this Nangolat. When I find him I will know what to do."

Angel's tone was not angry, nor did he sound as though he were threatening. It was as though he had said that tomorrow it would rain. But Rick and Scotty decided that they would not like to be in Nangolat's shoes.

"Did you tell Dr. Okola?" Scotty asked.

For the first time, Angel's eyes fell. "No. I was ashamed to him."

Rick recognized the odd phrase as a literal translation of a Spanish idiom. He also understood why Angel had not told Okola. The Filipino archaeologist had entrusted the Americans to Angel's care, and Nangolat had taken his place. It didn't matter that Angel couldn't help it. He had lost face. He would not return to Okola until he had made amends.

"If your head was so badly hurt that the doctors thought your skull was fractured, I'm surprised that they let you out of the hospital," Rick said.

"They did not let me. I walked out. Then I caught rides until I got into Baguio a few minutes ago. If you had not been here, then I would have followed you to Bontoc."

Scotty asked, "Angel, what do you know of Mr. Irineo Lazada?"

Angel spat. "He has power. He has many friends. All his friends are thieves. Some are mighty thieves, but he is the greatest one of all. The Secretary, who is his boss, is a fine man, and he will believe no evil of this Lazada. No one will speak against him so the Secretary and President can hear, because if such words are spoken, the body of the speaker will be found floating down the Pasig next morning. This is understood by all, and those who have proof are afraid. I have no proof, or I would speak myself. To know is one thing. But to prove is another."

"Do you know an American named Nast?"

"Yes. He is a smuggler. Again, there is no proof. Sometimes the ones who smuggle for him are caught, but he is not, because he does no smuggling himself."

"What does he smuggle?" Rick asked. He was searching for some clue that might be useful.

"Anything. Chinese who cannot get visas to enter the Philippines. He brings many of them up from Borneo. Crude rubber. Gems from Siam. He used to run guns, but the supply ran out. They were American war surplus guns, stolen by the truckload after the war and sold to smugglers like Nast. Now there are no more."

"What's Lazada's tie-up with Nast?"

Angel shrugged. "This is gossip. Lazada has a yacht. Who would search the private yacht of the great Assistant Secretary? Even though it was well known that the yacht had been to Macao or Hong Kong and was loaded with contraband?"

Rick swiftly outlined the events of the morning to Angel. "We must find Dr. Briotti," he concluded. "What do you suggest?"

Angel thought it over, now and then raising a hand gingerly to his bandaged head. "Everything Nast wants is in the Ifugao country, no? He can only want the gold, and it is there. When Dr. Okola told me of this golden skull you seek, I was afraid, for there are still many bad men in the Philippines who want gold. Now Nast is after it. Maybe others. I do not think Nangolat wants gold, but he is an Ifugao. Also, his interest is in the Ifugao country. It can be nowhere else."

Angel's English sometimes had a queer, rather formal phrasing, but it was clear. And so, apparently, were his thoughts. Rick accepted his idea about everything pointing to the Ifugao country.

"Then we should go to Ifugao."

"You have a plane. We should fly over the road to Bontoc and look for the truck and the sedan with Dr. Briotti. If we see them, we can come back to Baguio and telephone. The road to Bontoc is one way only. Only one car at a time can travel."

"One way?" Scotty inquired. "You can't mean that. How would people get back and forth?"

"I am not clear," Angel apologized. "What I mean is the road is too narrow for cars going both ways. So the road has been divided in parts by gates. Maybe a car is going to Bontoc. It arrives at Gate One. The gatekeeper lets it through, then he calls Gate Two and says he has let a car come north. Maybe another car is going from Bontoc to Baguio. He reaches Gate Two, and the gatekeeper makes him wait until the car from Gate One reaches him. Then he lets the car to Baguio go through and calls the gatekeeper at Gate One and says a car is coming. Then he lets the car going to Bontoc go through his gate and he calls Gate Three and says that a car is coming."

"I see," Scotty nodded. "One gate at a time. A car might be able to go through three or four gates, and then have to wait for a car coming the other way."

"That is it. There are many gates. I forget exactly how many. Also, to get from Bontoc to Banaue there is a road with gates."

Banaue was in the Ifugao country, in the heart of the rice terraces. It was their destination.

"Let's go," Rick said.

He had worked out a plan. The plane could scout the road quickly and easily. By air it was only a short distance to Bontoc, but by road it was several hours of driving because of the twists and turns. If they could spot the truck or a sedan with four men in it, they could return to Baguio and phone, and the vehicles could be held up at one of the many gates.

Scotty's thoughts were apparently the same, because Rick knew exactly what he meant when he said, "The sedan will give us trouble. We'll just have to hope that we can fly low when we see one, and try to catch a look at the people in it."

"That won't be very satisfactory," Rick said. "When we get to the airport, we'll have Angel pump those workmen some more. If they're still there. Like a pair of real meatheads, we forgot to ask for details, such as what color the sedan was."

They were fortunate. The workmen were still pecking away at the runway shoulders. And they did recall the color of the sedan. It was dark green. But they didn't know enough about cars to know the make, and they had noticed no special details.

"Have you flown before?" Rick asked Angel.

"Yes. But not in such a little plane. Only the big PAL planes."

The air-lines office was open now. Rick got his keys, arranged for gasoline, and they moved the Sky Wagon into position. There was plenty of gas for a short trip, but he was taking no chances. He wanted a full tank.

It took time to recheck the plane carefully, to make sure Nangolat had not sabotaged it. Then, finally, they were on their way. Scotty had a map spread across his knees and Angel had another. Scotty's map showed topographical details like the height of mountains and their contours. Angel had an excellent road map distributed by one of the American gasoline companies that maintained service stations in many parts of the islands.

Angel watched the roads and Scotty the mountains, and they got on the Bontoc Road with no trouble. Rick climbed until they could see for miles. It was the only way to follow the tortuous route of the road as it wound between mountains, hugged the side of high peaks, and dipped into forested valleys.

Now and then they could see an Igorot village far below, but this was mostly uninhabited country. On Scotty's map, not so far away, were great white patches marked with a single word: UNEXPLORED. It seemed incredible that after nearly fifty years of American Government and a few years of independence, the island of Luzon, seat of the capital, had unexplored areas. But it was true.

Rick knew that he need not watch the road carefully for a little while, except to follow it. If the truck and sedan were headed for Bontoc and Banaue they had a good start. He doubted that they were traveling together.

"You know," he said, "we're not so smart."

"I've always known it," Scotty replied. "But what have we done that's especially stupid?"

"We could have phoned the first gate and asked if the truck and sedan had passed through."

Scotty groaned. "You are so right!"

Angel spoke from the rear seat. "True, true! It is my fault. I am ashamed to you that I did not think of it."

Rick suspected that it hurt Angel to be so humble and admit that he was ashamed. He looked like a proud man, one used to holding his head high.

"We liked Nangolat," he said. "We thought he was Angel Manotok. He had all your papers. We didn't doubt him because he looked like a fine man. We were taken in, all right."

Angel seemed to cheer up a little. "Yes? Then perhaps you understand how it was easy for him to catch me and try to kill me when I also liked him and thought he was my friend."

"That's easy to understand," Scotty told the Filipino. "No one could blame you, Angel."

"You are good to say it," Angel replied. He seemed relieved.

Rick knew that they had made a friend by expressing their understanding. Before, Angel would have done his best because of Okola. Now, he thought, Angel would do his best because he knew they were friendly and understood how a man's pride can be hurt even when it is not his fault.

"We'd better start keeping an eye peeled," Scotty advised.

They flew in silence, inspecting the road below. There was almost no traffic. Since leaving Trinidad Valley they had seen only the Bontoc bus, a brilliant orange speck on the road below, and two jeeps. They had identified the gates easily. Once they passed a gate where a south-bound panel truck waited. Rick knew that the truck driver couldn't know what kind of vehicle he waited for, but from the air it could be seen that the Bontoc bus was the only moving thing between the two gates.

The Sky Wagon was just above the tops of a series of mountain peaks and steep ridges. The road clung to the sides of the peaks like a dusty brown ribbon. Rick turned up the heater a little because it was cold at eight thousand feet.

Then he lost the road. So did Angel and Scotty. Astonished, Rick circled. He picked up the road again, followed it, lost it once more.

"Where does it go?" he wondered.

"Let's go see," Scotty suggested.

Rick examined the terrain. Their quarry might be on the lost section of the road. He had the choice of going down for a look, or finding where the road emerged and circle for a while. He elected to go down.

The Sky Wagon lost altitude in a long slip toward the valley floor. Rick and the others kept an eye on the point where the road vanished, and in a few moments the mystery was solved. The road reached a cliff approximately a mile long and a half mile high. The road was about two thirds of the way up. To get past the cliff it had been necessary to cut a shelf into the cliff itself.

"Wow! Notching that cliff must have been some job!" Scotty exclaimed. "No wonder we couldn't see the road from the air."

Rick flew parallel to the cliff until he had to climb to get over a ridge. Below, the road emerged from the overhang and was clearly visible again. He gained altitude.

"Just had a happy thought," he said. "Wouldn't it be nice if the weather closed in? Here we are flying visual contact through some of the trickiest mountains I've ever seen. I'm going to keep an eye on the compass. You two concentrate on the road. If we do get weather, I want to be able to fly a reasonable course back to Baguio."

"Didn't you get a weather briefing at the airport?" Scotty asked.

"Yes. Such as it was. Mostly it was local Baguio conditions and a brief report on Manila."

"Something ahead," Angel called.

"I see it," Scotty answered. "A truck of some kind. Take a look, Rick."

Rick surveyed the landscape ahead, saw that he would not get into difficulty by losing altitude, and went down for a look. He couldn't get closer than a thousand feet, but that was ample. It was a load of lumber, although the truck was much like theirs.

"What color is it?" Scotty asked.

"Hard to tell. Ours was gray. This one looks brown."

"Could be dust," Angel offered. "Dirt road below, plenty dusty. But there are lumber mills up in this part of the province. Perhaps that is just one of their trucks. You had no lumber, did you?"

"No. Our truck had only two crates on it. Besides, Angel – I mean Nangolat – must be far beyond this point. He left last night early."

"How do you know?" Angel asked curiously.

"Yeah," Scotty echoed. "You sound sure."

"He got the scanner, didn't he? There was a risk that we might find out that it was gone. He wouldn't hang around the airport knowing that we might find out about the theft, would he?"

"Good point," Scotty agreed.

"I heard of this earth scanner," Angel said. "Dr. Okola told me. It takes pictures of what is inside the ground, no?"

"Not exactly pictures," Scotty said. "It shows a kind of wave pattern. You'll see how it works."

Rick snorted. "Optimist. What makes you so sure?"

"We'll get it back," Scotty said calmly. "No smart Ifugao is going to do us in the eye, chum. Not without a fight. We'll find Tony and we'll find the scanner. Then we'll clobber pal Nangolat – or let Angel do it – and get to work."