The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

by Harold L. Goodwin

  CHAPTER IV

  Inside the Walls

  "The fire escape!" Scotty yelled.

  Rick was with him on the instant. They ran to the end of the corridor,threw open the door, and dashed down the fire escape. No word passedbetween them as they crossed Dewey Boulevard. At a time like this theirteamwork was automatic.

  They reached the walls of Intramuros, and Scotty went left, Rick right.Somewhere along the walls, or within the city, was the intruder. Thequestion was, Had the intruder kept right on going across the walledcity, or was he in hiding, waiting to see whether or not he was beingpursued? If the former, their chances of catching up with him werealmost zero.

  Rick rounded the corner of the wall and had a clear view all the waydown to the Department of Commerce building nearly a half mile away.There were sufficient street lights to show him that the quarry was notin sight.

  He saw a breach in the wall a few yards away and hurried toward it.There was almost no light within the walled city, he suspected, but hewould have to look. The breach turned out to be a pile of rubble. Hewould have to go over the wall unless he wanted to search for anentrance. There wasn't time for that. He climbed up the pile of rubble,careful about his footholds, and gained the top of the wall. For amoment he was silhouetted at his full height.

  And in that instant a rifle cracked. He saw the muzzle flame, and in thenext instant he heard the soft smacking sound of the slug as it wentpast his ear. There was only one thing to do. He jumped.

  The wall was high, and he had no way of knowing what was below, but itwas better to risk unknown rubble than another shot from the sniper'sgun.

  He landed with knees flexed, struck level ground, but fell forward withthe momentum of the fall. Thorns dug into his hands and he smothered agrunt of pain. He lay where he was, not moving, waiting for some movefrom the sniper and for his eyes to adjust themselves to the denseblackness within the walls.

  He wondered whether the sniper and intruder were the same man. Theintruder had carried no rifle when he went out the hotel window. But itwas possible that he had cached one somewhere under the wall.

  What could the man have been after? Rick rejected the idea that this wascommon thievery. It was possible, but not probable. Especially after theattack on Tony Briotti aboard the boat. And after finding that Chahdahad gone underground and was posing as a Sikh.

  He was sure something was cooking that boded ill for the expedition. Nordid he have to rack his brains to find the cause. A golden skull wasreason enough. Mass murder had been committed for less gold many timesbefore this.

  His eyes searched the darkness, and his ears strained for the slightestsound, but no movement or noise followed. Yet, unless the sniper werethe world's most silent walker, he could not have slipped away.

  And where was Scotty?

  Again he pondered the mystery of Chahda. The Hindu boy had beenregistered at the Manila Hotel, waiting for the Spindrift party. Then,three days before their arrival, he had checked out and gotten a job asa guard at Lazada's. The disguise didn't cause Rick much wonderment.Sikhs, after all, are Indians, and Chahda had once worked for a Sikhofficer in the Bengal Lancers. Rick remembered that from an incidentduring the Tibet expedition. It was probable that Chahda had simply goneto the chief Sikh in Manila--there was always such a leader--andenlisted his aid.

  But why?

  Rick tensed, sensing a presence near him. He raised on one elbow andthought he discerned a figure nearby. The figure was close to the wall.He had a hunch that it was Scotty, but he couldn't be sure. He made nofurther movement, waiting to see.

  The figure became clearer, passed close in front of him, and from hislow vantage point the man was silhouetted against the sky, which had apink glow from the myriad neon lights of downtown Manila. No doubt ofit, the figure was Scotty's. Rick got to his feet, and staying close tothe wall, moved in the same direction Scotty had taken.

  The inner ground of the walled city was fairly clear, but close to thewalls there was considerable debris. Rick proceeded carefully, tryingnot to make a noise. He picked his way through tangles of weeds andwire, loose stone, and piles of junk that had been accumulating sincethe days of the Spanish conquistadors.

  He was tense, and his face was wet with sweat. There was a possibilitythat the sniper was gone, but if not, a noise could bring a lethal slug.Rick thought grimly that the ancient walled city probably had seen manya murder in the more than three hundred years since the wall had beenbuilt. He had no desire to be the most recent victim.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, his foot struck the edge of atwisted sheet of steel. The sheet, all that remained of a Japanesearmored car, rang dully.

  Instantly the rifle flamed. The slug smacked into the stone wall a footfrom Rick's shoulder. He didn't wait for the next shot. He hit theground, scuttled a few feet, and stopped in a thorny patch. He grimacedand risked wiping the sweat off his brow. At least one question wasanswered. The sniper had not left.

  Rick knew that the mysterious rifleman could have gotten away beforethis. The fact that he was still lying in wait could mean only onething. He had known he was being pursued by the Spindrifters, and he hadwaited in the hope of picking off one or two of them.

  Fingers of ice laid themselves across Rick's spine. It was no fun beingthe object of deadly intentions. He lay very still.

  His hand brushed something soft among the thorns, and he thought he knewwhat it was. He was lying in a patch of the tiny pink flowers known as_cadena de amor_--chain of love. He had seen them everywhere during theday. They grew like weeds anywhere they were allowed to flourish.

  The humor of it touched him. How romantic his sister Barbara would thinkit--to be trailing a desperado through an ancient Spanish city, and tobe flat on one's stomach in a patch of chain of love. If he got out ofthis with a whole skin, he would write her about it, omitting suchunpleasant facts as rifle bullets striking too close and thorns amongthe flowers.

  But unless he did something about it, he probably would still be lyingthere at dawn. He rose to his knees, then to his feet, holding hisbreath until lack of response from the rifleman told him he had not beenobserved. Then he resumed his slow march in the direction Scotty hadtaken.

  All guidebooks to the Philippines mentioned the walled city as a"must-see" item for tourists, and Rick had intended to take a daytimetour. This was not a suitable substitute. He would still have to returnby day. He moved on, with extreme caution. He could see nothing but theupper edge of the wall and the silhouette of the ancient cathedral a fewhundred yards away. But movement of air, a slight thinning of thedarkness, told him when he passed openings in the thick wall.

  Suddenly he stopped, all senses alert. He had heard something. As hewaited, muscles rigid with the strain of listening, he heard a whisperno louder than the rustle of a moth's wing.

  "Rick?"

  "Yes," he breathed.

  Even though he was expecting it, he gave an involuntary jump whenScotty's hand touched his sleeve. Scotty's lips touched his ear and thehusky ex-marine whispered almost inaudibly:

  "Gate to the street. Ten paces ahead. I have an empty gasoline drum.Going to throw it. If he fires and is close enough, rush him. If not,make for the gate. Can't stay here all night."

  Rick found Scotty's shoulder and squeezed it to indicate agreement, thenhe crouched low, ready to move like a plunging fullback in anydirection.

  Scotty moved away. In a moment Rick heard the faint scrape of metal onstone. He filled his lungs with air, then held his breath, waiting.

  He sensed rather than saw Scotty lift the gas drum over his head. Evenwhen empty, gas drums weigh quite a bit, but Scotty launched it like amedicine ball. Rick saw it briefly, a cylindrical shadow against thesky, then it landed with an appalling clatter, struck sparks from astone, and rolled noisily away.

  The rifle flamed one, twice. It was perhaps twenty paces away, and theshooting was toward the drum. Rick rushed forward, arms outstretched. Heheard a slap like a baseball hitting a glove, then a
cry of pain. Therifle blasted again, muzzle skyward.

  Rick thought he heard a siren wail, but there wasn't time to wonder. Hesprang headlong toward the rifleman. His shoulder struck flesh whichyielded. Then warm metal touched his hand and he grabbed for it. Therifle barrel! He leaned on it, keeping it vertical, and put his weightinto the job of driving its owner back off balance.

  A blow caught him under the eye and he saw stars. For a moment herelaxed his grip, then he released the rifle and reached until he foundcloth. He pulled, letting himself go backward as the wearer of the clothwas pulled off balance. He landed on his back, and a knee in the chestdrove the air out of him. He rolled sideways, fists driving out. Oneconnected and the shock of hitting bone ran through his knuckles and uphis arm.

  A heavy weight landed on his stomach and he grunted, trying to roll outfrom under. Again his fist lashed out and connected. He drew it back foranother punch.

  Brilliant light illuminated the scene. Rick blinked in the glare and sawScotty's grim face above him. Scotty had his fist cocked back for apunch that would have knocked him colder than a raspberry popsickle.

  "Hold it," Rick grunted. Scotty was forcing the air out of him by sheerweight.

  Running feet pounded the earth and hands jerked both of them to theirfeet. Scotty held the sniper's rifle, but the sniper was gone.

  A Filipino policeman looked at them over the sights of a .45 caliberColt automatic. Even in the reflected lights of the prowl car's headlamps, the muzzle looked only slightly smaller than the entrance toMammoth Cave.

  Rick's hair lifted. "Put that thing down!" he gulped.

  "Officer," Tony said crisply, "these are the two boys from my party.They were chasing the burglar." He added, "Apparently they succeededonly in catching each other. What in the name of an Igorot icebox wereyou two trying to do?"

  The boys looked embarrassed. "We had the sniper," Rick explained. "Butwe must have got tangled up. I thought the man with the rifle was theburglar, but it was Scotty."

  "He threw the rifle at me," Scotty said. "I reached for him, swung onhim and connected, then the rifle knocked me down."

  The policeman's running mate came back from a search of the darkness. Hespoke to his companion in Tagalog.

  "No use," the first policeman said. "He is gone. We would need help tofind him, since the walled city is big and has many hiding places. Canyou give a description? By the time help came he could be miles fromhere. Perhaps we can get him later."

  Rick knew how hopeless that was.

  "Unless the boys got a better look," Tony Briotti said, "the only thingI can say is that he was either an Igorot or an Ifugao. Short andmuscular. I saw his haircut--couldn't very well miss it. But not hisface."

  Rick and Scotty hadn't even seen that much. An Igorot or Ifugao?Probably the latter, since their expedition was connected with theIfugaos and not the Igorots. Rick remembered the incident on thefreighter. There was a pattern to this....

  "I will be the one to take the rifle," the policeman said.

  Rick wondered at the strange flavor of the phrase. But he was to hear itmany times while in the Philippines. "I will be the one...." It was aliteral translation from the Spanish.

  "I will be the one to take the names," the second policeman said,opening his notebook. "You will have to make charges."

  "No use," Tony replied. "Let's forget the whole thing. We'll never catchup with the man, whoever he was."

  Nevertheless, the police insisted on names and histories, and it was tenminutes before the Spindrifters made their way back to the hotel. In themain dining room they talked over cups of hot chocolate, ignoring thecurious stares of late supper guests who obviously wondered about Rickand Scotty's disheveled condition.

  Since the boys had not wanted to discuss their personal business infront of Lazada's chauffeur there had been no chance to tell Tony aboutChahda. Now they did so, and Rick ticked off points on his fingers.

  "Item One: The man on the boat who tried to chop you. Either an Igorotor Ifugao. Item Two: Chahda checks out of the hotel and appears as aSikh guard at Lazada's."

  "You forgot Item Three," Scotty added. "Colonel Felix Rojas. Asked uswhat good is hay to a dead horse, and knew we were having dinner atLazada's." He described the incident to Tony.

  "Item Four," Rick continued. "We find a prowler in your room. He had arifle cached in the walled city and waited around to use it on us. Hewas either an Igorot or Ifugao." He spread his hands. "Do we needanything more? Something is in the wind. But what?"

  "A golden skull," Scotty said.

  "Yes. But we don't have it. Does it make sense for anyone to try toknock us off before we have it? Shucks, we don't even know where it is,except that it's somewhere among the rice terraces."

  "Which is like saying that somewhere in the Mohave Desert is a buriedtreasure," Scotty added.

  Tony Briotti sighed. "I had heard a great deal about the penchant youtwo have for mysteries and excitement. Now I believe everything I'veheard and more. I can't imagine any reason for all these happenings.They simply don't make sense."

  "They do to someone," Rick said, and Scotty nodded agreement.

  Their waiter approached, an envelope in his hand. "Meester Brant? Thiscome while you outside. You take?"

  Rick took. "Must have arrived while Scotty and I were battling for theboxing championship of the walled city." He tore it open.

  "Item Five," he said. "From Chahda. 'Can't come now. Meet you in Baguio.Watch yourselves. Big danger from Ifugao no palate.'"

  Scotty held his head with both hands. "Great! How do we know whether ornot an Ifugao has no palate?"

  "Look down the throats of every one we see," Rick said wearily. "Ormaybe if an Ifugao has no palate he wears a sign to say so."

  Tony Briotti rose. "That message makes no sense, either. And I make nosense to myself. It's late. Come on to bed. Maybe everything will clearup in the morning."

  "Go to bed or go nuts," Rick added. "The choice is easy. But let's barthe windows. Just to keep the night air out."

  "Amen," Scotty said. "I think I'll break out my rifle and keep it by thebed. Just in case some of that dangerous night air gets in."