The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

"What do we do with Nast?"

"We get nasty with Nast."

Rick groaned. "That pun, pal, is strictly cornball."

"I've always wanted to be a pun pal," Scotty said.

Far ahead, green shelves gave a regular pattern to the base of one mountain. Rick pointed them out to Angel. "What's that?"

"Igorot rice terraces."

"Igorot? I thought the rice terraces were Ifugao."

"The Igorots have them, too. They are not so – I don't have the word for it. Big, make one open the eyes in wonder, very fine. The kind of thing that makes you feel surprise here." Angel put his hand on his stomach.

"Breath-taking?" Scotty suggested. "Spectacular?"

"Yes. Both. These Igorot terraces are nothing. Wait until you see the terraces at Banaue."

Three pairs of eyes scanned the road ahead. It was deserted.

"Tell us about rice," Rick asked. "There was rice below when we flew to Baguio, too."

"Yes. A great deal of rice. You passed over Pampanga Province, which is called the rice bowl of the Philippines. That rice is grown in paddies, which are fields with little earth walls around them called dikes. The paddies can be flooded. Rice needs much water. Down there, though, the land is flat."

Scotty pointed to a razorback ridge. "This land sure isn't flat."

"No, but the Igorot and Ifugao workers make it flat by building terraces. Each terrace is like a little paddy. It can be flooded, just as the lowland paddies are. The water comes from the mountains in pipes made of bamboo."

"It must be quite a water system," Rick observed.

"Yes. There are miles of bamboo pipes, but no water is wasted. The water is put into the upper terraces, then it runs by itself through openings down to the lower terraces."

"Is the rice the same?"

"Nearly. There is another kind called highland rice that is planted like wheat. We have a little wheat, too, but not enough to feed many people. The highland rice is not very good. Paddy rice is better."

Rick was interested. He continued his questioning. "Are the paddies flooded all the time?"

"Oh, no. They are flooded before the rice is planted. You know we do not plant seed in the paddies? We plant baby rice plants which are grown in special places. The little plants are pushed into the mud after the paddy is flooded. Then the water is left for a while. But if we left it all the time, the plants would rot. So after a while we let the water out and only let in enough to keep the rice growing."

They were over the terraces now. Beyond them, Rick saw brown houses that looked like beehives. It was an Igorot village.

"We'll reach Bontoc soon," Angel said.

"No truck and no sedan," Scotty added unhappily. "They couldn't have reached Bontoc, could they?"

"The truck could have, easily, if Nangolat drove during the night."

"Then we'll have to keep hunting past Bontoc right into Banaue."

Angel tapped Rick on the shoulder and pointed ahead. "There is Bontoc."

Nestled in the mountains on the bank of a river was the town of Bontoc, a small cluster of wooden and grass houses. Rick saw that the dirt road had changed to a black top.

"I'm going to look for a place to land."

Scotty nodded. "Good idea."

Rick waited until the town was directly below, then he sized up the terrain and began to lose altitude in a tight spiral. It was in situations like this that the Sky Wagon's flaps came in handy. He pulled the control down and the movable sections on the trailing edges of the wings moved down in response. He began to lose speed.

When he was five hundred feet over the town he flew parallel with the road, searching for wires and other hazards. There were wires, but they entered the town from the south, then branched west, toward Banaue. To the north there were no wires, nor any other hazards he could see. And the road looked level. He picked a stretch at the edge of the little town where the houses were far apart. They were primitive little dwellings made of straw tied together in bundles. He hoped his prop wash wouldn't blow them apart.

"Hang on," he said. "Here we go."

The movement of rice stalks in a paddy near the road gave him wind direction. He should land from the north. He circled, got into position, and started in. Scotty leaned forward, eyes peeled for obstructions.

There was excitement in the town below. People in Western clothes and in scant breechcloths or tight skirts of Igorots were running into the open to see what was making the racket. Rick hurried the landing a little, afraid the people would clutter up the strip of road he had chosen. He put the Sky Wagon down with no sign of a bump and braked to a stop. Then, because children were getting near, outstripping their elders in haste to see the plane, Rick cut the engine.

Two Igorot boys, perhaps fourteen years old, were the first to reach the plane as the three climbed out. The Igorots had the chopped-off bowl haircut, and they wore breechcloths and nothing else. They stared at the plane, wide-eyed, then one said something to his friend in guttural Igorot.

Angel Manotok grinned. Rick asked, "Did you understand?"

"Yes. I speak Igorot."

Scotty said, "They probably were talking about the great sky bird. That right, Angel?"

Angel's grin broadened. "Not exactly. The English equivalent would be slang. What he said corresponded to 'Hey, bud, get a load of the real snazzy four-place job. And dig that retractable landing gear!'"

The boy who had spoken looked at Angel with suspicion. "You no Igorot," he accused.

Angel chuckled. "You no Englishman, but you speak English."

The boy laughed. "Okay, Mac. My name Pilipil. I learn plenty plane stuff at Clark. Dig holes there for pay. See many plane."

Rick and Scotty got over their amazement. It was obvious that the boys were more than fourteen years old. Their short stature and unlined faces were deceptive.

"How old are you, Pilipil?" Rick asked.

"Eighteen."

Rick wanted to know more about the boy who had worked as a laborer at the American Air Force Base at Clark Field, but there was no time because the rest of the crowd had arrived. The boys found themselves surrounded by Filipinos and Igorots, all chattering with obvious excitement and interest.

A Filipino who was obviously someone of importance pushed his way through the crowd. He was dressed in a business suit, complete with starched shirt and tie, an odd rig for such a primitive village as Bontoc, Rick thought. The man was smoking a cigar with one hand and carrying a cane with the other. He hung the cane over the wrist on the cigar hand and held out the other.

"I am the district road commission. Leocadio de los Santos, at your service. Mr. Lazada informed me by letter that I was to place my entire resources at your disposal. You are Mr. Brant, Mr. Scott, and Dr. Briotti?"

"Dr. Briotti is not with us," Rick replied. "This is Mr. Manotok."

"Ah. Delighted. Please come to my office so we may talk quietly."

Rick looked doubtful. "We shouldn't leave the plane."

"Do not fear. It will be perfectly safe."

Santos switched to the native language, speaking briefly and with authority. The crowd obediently fell back a few paces, leaving a cleared area around the plane. The road commissioner had the situation under control, all right.

Nevertheless, Angel Manotok said, "I will wait here."

Rick nodded. That was best. He and Scotty followed Santos to the office, a few hundred feet down the street. The office was on the second floor of a frame building. The first floor was a work area filled with tools, including a bulldozer and a road scraper.

Before discussing business, Santos insisted on refreshment. He clapped his hands and a dungaree-clad Filipino workman appeared. Santos spoke. In a few moments the workman reappeared. Both boys were surprised when he offered them their favorite American beverage. It seemed strange to be sipping coke in a place inhabited by primitive people clad in breechcloths, some of them armed with short spears.

Rick got down to business. "Can you find out if a truck and a green sedan have passed through Bontoc?"

"What kind of truck, please?"

Rick described it. "We don't have the make of the sedan. It may have had five men in it." He couldn't believe that the sedan had reached Bontoc, however.

Santos picked up his phone, reached down, and whirled a crank. The phone rang. He spoke Ilokano into it, then received a reply from the other end. He spoke again, then hung up. "That was the gateman at the edge of town. No truck and no sedan passed through here today."

CHAPTER IX

Ifugao Country

There was only one difficulty, but it was a major one. Rick didn't know whether or not the district road commissioner could be believed. Santos was Lazada's man.

The boys finished their cokes before Rick decided on a course of action. If Santos was lying, they would find out soon enough. So, for the present, they would assume that he was telling the truth, and that he could be trusted.

"Is the province peaceful up this way?" Rick asked.

"Oh, yes." Santos replied. "It is usually very peaceful. Sometimes on the road south there is a holdup, but the Igorots in Bontoc and the Ifugaos at Banaue cause no trouble."

"Glad to hear it," Scotty said. "When we start digging, some of the Ifugaos may get upset. I'm glad to hear that they're not often riled up."

"What are your plans?" Santos asked.

Rick shrugged. "It is hard to know where to begin. Before we plan our campaign to locate the place where we dig, we must survey the terraces. Is there any sort of field where I could land at Banaue?"

"No," Santos replied with great positiveness. "Once you see the terraces you will see for yourself that there is no place."

Rick stood up and Scotty followed suit. "I think perhaps we had better fly over to Banaue and see the terraces. Then we will have a better understanding of our problems. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. De los Santos."

"It is nothing. But tell me. Isn't there another in your party? Another American?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Oh, the Assistant Secretary of the Interior phoned personally. He described all of you, and said to do everything possible to make your visit interesting and successful."

"That was very good of him," Rick said. "We will be back again, perhaps tomorrow. Will you be here?"

"I believe so. If I am not, it will be because I am inspecting a road section. Never am I gone long."

Santos lingered to give instructions in the native language to one of his men, and Rick took advantage of the few seconds to whisper to Scotty:

"I'll stall him. Get back to the plane. Have Angel make a deal with those Igorot boys to keep an eye on the road. I want another spy in Bontoc besides someone we know is Lazada's man. You know what's needed."

Scotty did. He hurried off to do what was necessary. Rick waited for Santos, then asked the commissioner to point out the road to Banaue. "I plan to follow the road in my plane. Do you think that is all right?"

Santos did. "You may lose the road in the clouds as you cross the top of the mountain range that divides the Igorot tribe from the Ifugaos, but you should then be able to see Banaue. Will you come back here after you have seen the terraces?"

"Not today. We probably will be back tomorrow in a jeep. The plane is handy, but we can't land at Banaue, you say."

"You will see. And I will see you tomorrow. Then you can tell me how the terraces look from the air."

"Better still," Rick promised. "Next time I have the plane here, I'll take you to see for yourself."

Scotty winked as Santos and Rick approached the plane, and Rick knew that Scotty and Angel had been able to make a deal with Pilipil, the Igorot boy, and his friend. The party shook hands with Santos, then climbed into the plane. The crowd of natives moved away from the road as Rick started the engine, then turned the plane and taxied down the road to the take-off point he had selected. He was a little nervous, for fear a child might dart into the road while he was picking up flying speed, but the crowd was well-disciplined and held steady as the Sky Wagon roared past and climbed.

"We now have Pilipil and his pal working for us," Scotty said when they were air-borne.

"They're smart boys," Angel added. "They'll be able to report on every car and every person passing through Bontoc from now until we get back."

Rick nodded. "Good. But I'm still worried. We've done everything we could think of, but there's no pay-off. We still haven't found Tony. We were sure whoever kidnaped him would head for the Ifugao country, but there were no sedans on the road today. How do we know Tony isn't hidden somewhere near Baguio? How do we know he's still alive?"

Scotty put a hand on his shoulder. "Why wouldn't he be alive? Who would gain anything by his death? We have to remember that the gimmick in this whole business is a golden skull. Nast wants it, Nangolat wants it, Lazada wants it, and we want it. No one has it."

Rick gained altitude steadily, keeping an eye on the twisting road below. "All right. I'll go along with your reasoning. Whoever wants the golden skull has to go to Banaue to find it. It can't be found – unless by a lucky accident – without the earth scanner. And who has the scanner?"

"Nangolat."

"Can he use it?"

"No."

Rick shrugged. "Tony can use the scanner, though. We suspect that Nast has Tony. The question is what is the relationship between Nangolat and Nast?"

Below the Sky Wagon the high green mountains marched in a series of ridges from horizon to horizon. This was the divide between Igorot and Ifugao country. Rick let the conversation lag as he searched below and ahead for a landmark. There was a little cloud cover around him, as Santos had predicted.

Then the cloud was past and the three looked down into the great valley of Banaue.

Rick and Scotty gasped. It was incredible! As far as they could see, the mountains on either side of the valley were sculptured into irregular green steps, or terraces. The smallest terrace was perhaps only a few feet square, while the larger ones were the size of a football field. They rose in an irregular triangle right to the base of the clouds. There was no particular pattern. The Ifugao farmers had simply used every possible inch of space to make terraces for the growing of rice. In some places the step from one terrace to the next was only a foot or two. In other places the step up to the terrace above was forty feet.

The retaining walls of the terraces were native stone, irregular pieces laid together by expert Ifugao masons without benefit of mortar or concrete. The same method had been used to make the great wall of China.

Rick found his voice. "I've seen pictures, but they didn't tell even part of the story. This is fantastic!"

"It's the most wonderful job of engineering I've ever seen," Scotty agreed. "And when you think that the engineers are primitive people, with only hand tools, that makes it even more wonderful."

Angel Manotok had seen the terraces before, he said, but added, "I'm glad to see them from the air. You can understand now why Santos said there was no place to land."

Rick certainly could understand. The only level places in the entire valley were the flat surfaces of the terraces, and no terrace was large enough to land on. In fact, most terraces were too small even for a carabao, the native water buffalo, to drag a plow across them. The Ifugao rice planters had to farm their terraces by hand.

There was no use looking for a landing place in the immediate vicinity of Banaue.

"We'd better take a swing down the valley, just to get a good look, then head back for Baguio," Rick said.

"Good idea," Scotty agreed. "We need to lay some plans and then get busy. Can you fly fairly low?"

"Yes. There's room enough in the valley to make turns, so we won't get trapped. Let's go down and look."

The town of Banaue was easy to find. A double row of stores was situated on a single unpaved street atop a slight plateau in the valley bottom. The Sky Wagon sped over it, bringing the storekeepers and their few customers running out to look.

"The Ifugaos live in villages around the valley," Angel said. He pointed to one or two of them, clinging to the mountainside between terraces. The huts were of straw bundles, discolored by smoke and dust. "The stores have kerosene, thread, matches, tobacco, salt, oil, perhaps a little cloth. The Ifugaos do not need much – or, if they need it, they do not know that they do."

Rick thought that one over as he climbed out of the valley and set a compass course south to Baguio. The course would intersect the Bontoc Road, which he would then follow into town.

"What's our next step?" he asked.

"We've got to find Tony, of course. I have a hunch that we weren't thorough enough in looking over the Bontoc Road. Nangolat had to be on it. Where else could he go? Or where else would he go?"

"That lumber could have been camouflage," Angel offered.

Rick's first reaction was to ask what lumber, then he remembered that an Army truck like theirs, but loaded with lumber, had been on the Bontoc Road.

"Of course! Who would suspect a load of lumber, especially since this is lumber country?"

Scotty nodded. "It's possible. Tomorrow we'll go back to Bontoc, and if Nangolat was driving that lumber truck, Pilipil and company will know it. Tonight we'll cover Baguio again to make sure our enemies aren't still around. Perhaps we can find Chahda."

"If we haven't found Dr. Briotti by tomorrow night," Angel said, "we should go to the police."

"There's someone else we'll visit first," Rick said grimly. "And that's Mr. Irineo Lazada!"

CHAPTER X

Ambush

The hotel had received no word of Tony Briotti. Rick and Scotty hadn't really expected any word. They were certain that he had been kidnaped by Nast. Even the reason for the kidnaping was no longer important. What was important was to rescue Tony.

Angel Manotok left before the boys were ready for dinner. He hoped to pick up some information at various places he knew around town. Perhaps gossip which might be useful. Perhaps someone had seen something unusual which could have a bearing on the young archaeologist's disappearance. Angel promised to report back later. He would spend the night in Tony's room.

Rick and Scotty decided to have dinner, and then talk with some of the local Americans about the best place to buy a jeep. If possible, they wanted to pick one up after dinner, get it ready to travel, and have it standing by the next morning early.

They did not talk much at dinner. They were more worried about Tony than either of them would admit, and Rick was feeling a little ill at ease because they hadn't notified the police. He had talked it over with Angel, but the Filipino guide had said, "We'll have to notify them sooner or later, but it will do no good."

"Perhaps we should notify the American ambassador at Manila," Rick said aloud.

"We should have notified him long before this," Scotty agreed. "But we always try to do everything ourselves. I guess we'll never learn."

Angel Manotok appeared in the dining room, eyes searching for the boys. Rick saw him and waved. Angel came over and slid into a seat. Apparently he had seen a doctor, because the bandage around his head was a new one.

"Friend of yours coming this way," he said. "Probably will have dinner here. Lazada."

Scotty's lips tightened. "I'll be glad to see him," he assured Angel. "I want to ask him about his pal Nast."

Rick's eyes opened wide. "No need," he said. "Look at the door."

There, just entering were Lazada and Nast, arm in arm!

The boys waited until they were seated, then walked over to join them.

"Good evening," Rick said. "I hope you gentlemen are well."

Lazada and Nast smiled. The Assistant Secretary nodded. "Both quite well, thank you. And how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Rick said. "But my friend is giving me a little trouble." He pulled a chair out from Lazada's table and sat down. Scotty followed suit. Rick was close to Lazada, while Scotty's chair was nearer to Nast.

"Your friend is giving you trouble?" Lazada asked. "Which friend?"

"This one," Rick said, motioning to Scotty. "He wants to kill Mr. Nast. I don't think we should kill Mr. Nast, do you?"

Lazada smiled. "Ask him."

Rick turned to Nast. "Do you have an opinion, Mr. Nast?"

Nast was a little pale, but his voice was steady enough. "I certainly do. I agree with you, Mr. Brant."

Rick grinned mirthlessly. "You do? I'm glad. Instead of killing you, I suggested to Scotty that we cripple you. Perhaps a few compound fractures of the arms and legs."

Rick could see that neither Lazada nor Nast were as composed as they seemed. The calm, unearthly discussion was too bizarre. Threats were something they understood, but not threats like this.

Scotty spoke for the first time. He addressed Nast. "Because you're a fellow American I thought the decent thing to do would be just to kill you outright."

Nast shuddered visibly. "You're both joking, of course. But it isn't a very funny joke, I assure you."

Rick smiled. "No, it isn't very funny. But neither is Dr. Briotti's disappearance. You'd better tell us where he is."

"What makes you think Mr. Nast knows?" Lazada asked.

Rick considered. They had no proof. No one had seen Nast in the sedan that had taken Tony from the airport. The boys saw movement at the entrance to the dining room and realized that two Filipinos were watching them like hawks, and that the hands in their pockets certainly held pistols.

Rick shifted tactics. "Do you have much faith in your bodyguards?"

Lazada raised his eyebrows. "Faith? Of course. They are loyal to me. If anyone tries to get close to me without my permission, they step in and remove that person. Or, if anyone should try violence…"

Rick smiled. "How good do you think they would be against a sniper with a rifle five hundred yards away?"

"Obviously, they would be ineffective."

"Just the point I wanted to make," Rick agreed. "You realize, of course, that there is no protection against assassination, except to take refuge in a fortress of some kind and stay there. That's impossible for a public figure like yourself."

"True. Your point, then, is what?"

"That Dr. Briotti has friends with rifles. It would distress us to find that he had been harmed."

"It would distress me," Lazada assured them. "I was very much impressed by Dr. Briotti's knowledge and enthusiasm. I assume that you think I have some knowledge about his disappearance. I do not."

"Me either," Nast added hastily.

Lazada's round face glistened with perspiration. "I will control my anger, Mr. Brant. I take your age into account. Allow me to remind you, however, that I am an official of the Philippine Government and that you are an alien. You are here on sufferance, and you have only such rights as you can persuade us to give you. Oh, I know there are agreements. But let us be realistic. Do not force me to lose my temper and do something for which I would be sorry."

"All right." Rick rose. "I'm not as enthusiastic about this expedition as I used to be, but we're going through with it, anyway, starting tomorrow. The sooner we finish, the better for everybody." He looked at Nast. "Except you. I can only promise you that your pal Lazada will never be able to give you the golden skull to smuggle into China."

The boys walked back to their own table and left Nast and Lazada staring after them. That would give them something to chew over, Rick thought.

"I'm not sure that we were smart," Scotty said when they were seated once more. "I'm sure Nast had something to do with Tony's disappearance, but I can't tell you why I'm sure. Was it wise to throw it up to them?"

Rick shrugged. "Maybe not. But it's done now."

The boys slept with locked windows and doors, but they slept soundly. Down the hall, Angel also regained strength and optimism while he slept, so that the three awoke the next morning with a determination to make some real progress. They had followed their plans and obtained a jeep the night before. But they would need blankets and warmer clothing, unless their supplies could be recovered.

Over breakfast, Scotty estimated their chances. "Suppose we find out that the truck is somewhere in the Ifugao country. Would that guarantee our getting it back? No, it would not. So, we'd better write off the stuff in the truck as lost."