"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 a.s.sistant 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.