Читать книгу The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story - Goodwin Harold Leland - Страница 5

At breakfast the next morning Rick and Scotty were subjected to an amused scrutiny by Tony. He ticked off the items on his fingers.

"Rick has a slight mouse under one eye, and his left arm seems a little stiff. I noticed that he sat down gingerly, and that there is a very pronounced bruise on the side of his jaw. Hands would indicate that he has been playing with a rather rough cat, except that I happen to know he was scrambling around in some cadena de amor.

"Scotty is also wearing a mouse under one eye, perhaps a little more prominent than Rick's. And he has a long scratch behind the left ear, obviously caused by some sharp instrument."

The archaeologist grinned. "If you do that to each other, what would you do to an enemy?"

The boys grinned back. "Can't tell you until we catch an enemy," Rick replied. "Actually, most of my terrible wounds came from falling down."

"Same here," Scotty agreed. "And that sharp instrument you mentioned was the edge of a tin can."

Tony spooned succulent orange-colored papaya melon with appreciation. "Have either of you figured out what our Ifugao friend – let's assume that he was an Ifugao – wanted in my room last night?"

"The only answer I can think of is the obvious one," Rick answered. "He probably thought we have a map or something showing the location of the golden skull. He wanted it."

"I accept the hypothesis only because I haven't a better one," Tony said. "How about you, Scotty?"

Scotty shrugged. "Can't buy it. But on the other hand, I don't have any theory. Wish Sherlock Holmes were here."

"We could use him," Briotti admitted. "Well, what's the program for today?"

"Off to Baguio," Rick replied. "But first, we'll have to rent or buy a truck. The plane can't carry us plus our gear, and we'll need the truck to take our stuff into the mountains. Scotty and I can do that. What are your plans?"

"There's an American anthropologist here I'd like to see. He's internationally known. Name of J. Walter McGowan. I made a tentative appointment yesterday. I'm sure he will have some information on the Ifugaos that will be of interest. Probably Okola has included in his papers on the subject everything McGowan knows, but I'd like to talk with him just to get the feel of things, so to speak."

"Then why don't you do that this morning?" Rick suggested. "We'll get the truck, load the gear, and get ready to take off."

"Wonder where that Filipino Angel is?" Scotty asked. "Wasn't he supposed to be here this morning?"

"I don't think Okola specified a time," Tony replied. "And the morning is still pretty young."

That was true enough, Rick thought. Besides, he had the impression that the Filipinos, although they followed Western customs, had the Far Easterners' disregard of time.

"If the Angel doesn't arrive, one of us will have to drive the truck to Baguio," he said. "I had hoped he would take the truck, then we three could fly."

Scotty asked, with deceptive casualness, "Tony, what do you think of Dr. Okola?"

Tony answered promptly. "A first-rate scientist and a distinguished gentleman besides. Why?"

"Do you trust him?"

"Implicitly. We're not dealing with a stranger here, Scotty. Okola's name has been known to me since I first became interested in archaeology. We have many mutual friends, and he has been very helpful and courteous since this project was first proposed. Yes, I trust him."

"That's good," Scotty said, "since we're buying the services of this Angel purely on his say-so. We'll have to trust Angel. We have no choice."

"True. I'm prepared to trust him, simply because Okola said we could."

Rick nodded agreement. "I'll take him on faith, too." He had learned not to be overtrustful in far places among strangers, but he agreed with Tony's estimate of Okola. The man, he believed, was just what he seemed to be – a Filipino scientist and gentleman. He had liked Okola.

"All right," Scotty said. "I'll go along. Okola seemed like a real compadre. But how about Lazada? Do you trust him?"

Tony considered. He finished his papaya, then tackled a mango salad, an unusual but delicious breakfast dish. "I don't distrust him," he said finally. "That's negative, but the best I can do. He's not the type of individual who appeals to me very much, but without further evidence I'd hesitate to mark him untrustworthy."

"I have a hunch," Rick said. "My hunch says that Mr. Lazada is crooked as a helical coil. I wouldn't trust him anywhere, any time."

Scotty agreed. "I would have said he's no straighter than the cutting edge of a saw. And he's just about that sharp, too. Trouble with you is, Tony, you're too civilized. You always see the best in everything, including people."

"Don't you?" Tony asked mildly.

The boys chuckled. Of course they did, and Tony knew it. But on an expedition like this, their suspicions came to the fore and they automatically distrusted everyone. Lack of distrust had caused them much trouble on other expeditions, and had come close to costing them their lives.

The headwaiter approached. "There is a man to see Dr. Briotti. Shall I have him wait?"

"That must be Okola's man," Tony said. "No, please bring him here."

The three watched with interest as the headwaiter went to the door and returned leading a short, dark man.

Rick examined him with interest. At first glance the Filipino seemed quite short, as so many of his race are. Then Rick's discerning eyes saw the breadth of his shoulders. And he saw that the man wasn't really very short; he only seemed to be because of his extraordinary shoulder width.

The man was dressed simply but neatly in typical Filipino style with white trousers and a white shirt. The shirt had no tail, but was cut square at the bottom like a sport shirt. The collar was sport-shirt style, too, worn open, and disclosed a muscular throat.

The man bowed slightly. "Dr. Briotti?"

"I am Briotti." He indicated the boys. "Mr. Brant and Mr. Scott. And you?"

"I am Angel Manotok, at your service. Dr. Okola said that you needed a driver, guide, and general handyman. He said that he had recommended me."

"Yes. Please sit down. Will you have breakfast?"

"Some coffee, perhaps. I have already had breakfast."

Angel Manotok had a strong, square face. Rick thought that he looked very much like an American Indian. His hair was thick and very black, and freshly cut into a sort of crew cut.

"You will want to see my papers," Angel said.

He produced a wallet and extracted several documents. The Spindrifters examined them. There was a Philippine driver's license, a United States Army driver's license indicating that the bearer was qualified to drive military vehicles, an honorable discharge from the Philippine Scouts, which had been a part of the United States Army, and a certificate from the Philippine Public Health Service certifying that Angel Manotok, as of three weeks ago, had been X-rayed and found free of tuberculosis.

"So you were in the Philippine Scouts," Scotty remarked.

Angel grinned, showing strong white teeth. "I have been many things, including a scout. I have also been a lumberjack in Zambales Province, a gold miner in Baguio, and a farmer in Mindanao."

"You speak remarkably good English," Tony commented.

"Thank you, sir. You will notice from my discharge that I was a sergeant in the Philippine Scouts. I had the advantage of American military schools. I also attended college – the Ateneo de Manila, which has American Jesuit priests as teachers. I did not graduate, unfortunately, but I did learn your language rather better than most Filipinos."

Rick liked Angel at once. He nodded at Tony and Scotty, and they nodded back. Tony at once began discussing salary and general arrangements with Angel.

When they had reached an agreement, Angel grinned. "Now I can tell you. Since Dr. Okola was very anxious for me to go, I was prepared to work for you just for food. But a salary is much better."

"Much," Tony agreed. "We prefer it that way, too, although I appreciate your loyalty to Dr. Okola."

"Where is your baggage?" Rick asked.

"I left it outside at the desk. I haven't much to carry along. Just work clothes and a few tools."

"Where can we get a truck?" Scotty inquired.

"What kind would you like?"

Rick answered. "An Army six-by-six, if possible."

"That can be done. Rent or buy?"

"Which do you suggest?"

"Rent. Let me do it for you. I can bargain much better than you can."

"Fine," Rick agreed. "We'll go with you and watch."

Angel shook his head. "Better not. If the dealer knows the truck is for Americans, the price will go up. If he thinks it is for a Filipino, the price will be low. Let me get a truck – I'll be sure it's a good one – and meet you here."

Rick considered. "No, let's make another plan. I want to spend a little more time checking my plane. Suppose you get the truck, then meet us at Hangar 18 at the airport. We can come back here and load after lunch. Then we can fly to Baguio while you follow with the truck."

"Have you ever driven to Baguio?" Scotty asked.

"Many times. It takes between six and seven hours, depending on the traffic. Some parts of the road aren't very good, and traffic piles up."

"Then if you leave at noon, you should be in Baguio at dinnertime."

"Yes. Shall I go now? I will need a hundred pesos. That is for a deposit on the truck."

Tony opened his billfold. "Let's see. That's fifty dollars. Is American money all right?"

Angel smiled. "American money is always all right, everywhere. I will get a truck and then come to the airport. Yes?"

"Yes. And glad to have you with us," Rick said.