Rick Brant 10 The Golden Skull

by John Blaine

  ‘ Tedestriansare nothing but the raw material for accidents,” Rick agreed. “Look at that!”

  Among the busses, the cars, and the jeeps that ranged the boulevard trotted a half-dozen two-wheeled carriages drawn by tiny horses. These were the calesas of bygone days, still competing withManila ’s countless taxis for passengers.

  “We should hire two and have a chariot race,” Scotty suggested.

  They had a sandwich and a cold drink made with calamansi , the pungent small Philippine limes, then walked across the boulevard to where the great wall of the old cityrose high in the air. The wall was of huge stone blocks, rising about four times the boys’ height into the air. It was perhaps twenty feet thick at the base.

  Within the walls there had once been a city of a hundred thousand people, but it was there that in World War II the Japanese had chosen to make their last stand. Most of the people of the city had been wiped out, along with their Japanese captors, and of the ancient buildings only a cathedral remained. The area had been bulldozed flat in most places, and Quonset-type warehouses, called bodegas, had replaced the ruined Spanish buildings.

  “Rick, look at this!” Scotty called, pointing to a fern-like plant that grew near the wall.“Watch.” He touched it and the leaves rolled into tight tubes.“How about that?”

  A Filipino gentleman, immaculate in a white nylon suit, watched them for a moment,then joined them.

  ‘The plant is strange to Americans, I think. It is a sensitive mimosa. You have the mimosa inAmerica , but not this variety.”

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  “It’s good of you to explain, sir,” Rick said.

  “Not at all.In Tagalog, the plant is called makdhiya . It means, literally, I am ashamed when you touch me.’”

  “It’s ashamed, so it closes up,” Rick said. “That’s charming. Tagalog must be a picturesque language.”

  The Filipino nodded. “It has a certain flavor. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Felix Rojas of the Philippine constabulary.”

  Rick took his first good look at the Filipino and immediately recognized the soldierly bearing and lean fitness of the professional soldier. He introduced himself and Scotty.

  Colonel Rojas smiled.“The young men who are going to dine with the esteemed Assistant Secretary tonight, eh? Welcome to our country.” He bowed and walked away, leaving them openmouthed. Then, as an afterthought, he turned. “Surprised? Don’t be. We are interested in strangers until their intentions are known. Yours are above reproach.” His smile faded. “However, you may be interested in another bit of Tagalog.” He spoke briefly a phrase that seemed to be mostly vowels.

  “What does it mean?” Scotty asked.

  The colonel’s eyes searched theirs. “What good is hay to a dead horse,” he said and walked away.

  The boys stared at each other.

  “A very good question,” Rick said at last. The colonel had vanished into the Manila Hotel. “Scotty, what good is hay to a dead horse?”

  “The deceased equine has little use for hay,” Scotty said.“Obviously. Was that a warning?”

  “I don’t know what it was,” Rick said. The phrase could have been a warning, but of what? And how had the colonel known where they were dining? He put the question aloud.

  Scotty shrugged. “Doesn’t the constabulary come under the Department of the Interior? Maybe Lazada told him. A colonel would be pretty high rank in the constabulary; he could even be the commander.”

  The Philippine constabulary had a long and distinguished history. It was similar to a police force, but was a military organization. It was, Rick thought, something like a cross between the American state militia, the Texas Rangers, and any good state police force.

  “I’m snowed,” Rick said at last. “The only thing I’m sure of is that he wasn’t looking for information when he asked what good is hay to a dead horse. Come on. Let’s start for Lazada’s.”

  The way led across busyTaft Avenue , named for the American president, across theAyalaBridge which spanned the PasigRiver , and pastMalaccanPalace . The palace was the equivalent of our White House.

  In its time Spanish, American, and Japanese conquerors of thePhilippines had lived there. Now it housed the president of the Republic of thePhilippines .

  It was very dark by the time they passed the palace. They left the street-lighted area and entered an area of old Spanish houses. The PasigRiver was very close. They could smell the water hyacinth which floated Page 8

  endlessly down to the sea.

  The air was heavy with unshed rain. The boys had long since shed their jackets and were carrying them.

  Now the heat seemed to push down on them, muffling even the sound of their leather soles on the cobbles. They passed a solitary street light and Rick read the sign. They were on the right track. The hotel clerk’s directions, obtained before they ate, had been very good.

  “Almost there,” Rick whispered,then wondered why he hadn’t spoken aloud.

  Apparently Scotty was feeling the same physical oppression because he didn’t comment on the whisper.

  The houses were two-story, old Spanish style, with much wrought-iron fancy work. Few lights showed.

  Such houses presented only blank faces to the street. The life inside them found its open air in secluded patios in the rear.

  “We must be getting close,” Scotty said. His voice was very low.

  Rick unsnapped his key ring. It had a pencil flashlight attached. He shot the light over the house fronts, searching for a number. A cream-colored lizard darted frantically out of the circle of light into protecting darkness.

  “Two more numbers,” Rick said.“Must be the house after the next one.” He flashed the tiny light ahead and froze as he saw the shape of a man. Beside him, he felt Scotty tense.

  It was silly to stand frozen. Rick moved ahead, slowly, and the shape took form.Turban, flowing tunic with sash.Fiercely whiskered face.A Sikh guard.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Sikhs-Indians-were noted for their bravery and fighting ability, and they could be found in most cities of theFar East , usually employed as private guards or police.

  The Sikh came to attention and Rick noted that he was rather small for his race. Most Sikhs were big men.

  He had kept the light on the bearded face, noting that the beard was neatly tied in the Sikh fashion.

  Brown eyes stared unblinkingly. A hoarse voice said, “This ees house of Meester Secretary Lazada.

  Please to enter.”

  Suddenly the voice changed and Rick nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Go right on up the stairs, meatheads. Scotty must be hungry. He always is.”

  Rick choked.

  “Chahda!”

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  CHAPTER III

  The Gods of Banaue

  Scotty reached out for the Hindu boy, but Chahda stepped nimbly aside. “Not time for horseplay now,”

  he said. “Or talk either. Houseboy will hear. It important I stay under cover. You go up and eat. Later, if I can, I will come to Manila Hotel. If I cannot, I will meet you inBaguio .”

  The boys knew better than to argue. They each punched Chahda affectionately as they passed him, then Rick knocked on the door, which was instantly opened by a Filipino houseboy.

  The houseboy led them up a steep flight of stairs into a huge living room, sparsely furnished after the tropical fashion, but with exquisite and expensive Chinese furniture of rosewood and teak. Tony Briotti came to meet them,then introduced them to Dr. Remedios Okola and the Honorable Irineo Lazada.

  Dr. Okola, obviously, had a great deal of Spanish blood in his ancestry. He was tall and lean, with a deeply lined face and a magnificent hawklike nose. His hair was iron gray. He wore black dress trousers and an open-neck slipover shirt of a very fine, almost transparent, fabric heavily embroidered down the front. The shirt hung outside his trousers in traditional style. This was the barong Tagalog, the native Filipino costume.

  Where the Filipino archaeologist sh
owed his Spanish blood, the Honorable Irineo Lazada’s face betrayed his Chinese ancestry. He was round of face, and his eyes had the typical Mongoloid fold. He was dressed in an expensive white sharkskin suit with a white American-style shirt and a black tie. The tie was held in place by the biggest diamond Rick had ever seen. He assumed it was real; no one would wear a phony one that big.

  Lazada had a hugeManila cigar in one hand and a fan in the other. By some feat of legerdemain he managed to shake hands with the boys without letting go of either.

  “Come in, come in,” he said genially. “Welcome to thePhilippines . You will have some refreshment?

  How about a coke?”

  That suited theboys fine. Lazada waved a pudgy hand and a slippered houseboy appeared like a genie, carrying two iced glasses of coke. Rick was not in the least surprised. He had had his favorite American beverage in more unexpected places than this.

  Tony Briotti explained, “Dr. Okola and I just got here. We had a most interesting day at the university. I was beginning to go into the details of our expedition with Mr. Lazada.”

  “Please continue,” Lazada said expansively.

  Rick, who was sensitive to voices, had the impression that Mr. Lazada’s voice passed through a bath of highly refined oil before it emerged from his thick lips. It wasn’t exactly oily-just sort of overlubricated .

  Lazada alternately smoked and fanned. “You were telling me ofSpindriftIsland . Am I to gather that you are the only Spindrift scientist on this expedition? And that these young men just came for the voyage?”

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  “By no means.”Tony set Lazada straight. “Rick is our pilot and electronics technician. Scotty is mechanic and camp manager.”

  “Pilot?”Lazada looked surprise.

  Dr. Okola hastened to explain. “I neglected to tell Mr. Lazada that you are bringing your own plane. Of course, sir, permission was obtained in advance from the Philippine Aeronautics Authority.”

  “A helicopter, of course,” Lazada said. “Nothing else would be of value inMountainProvince . The only airfield is atBaguio .”

  “It’s a four-place Sky Wagon,” Rick said. “We hoped there might be some suitable landing places.”

  Lazada shrugged. “Perhaps there are, but they are not regular airports. Planes do not fly in that country.

  Both the mountains and the weather are dangerous.”

  “Might it not be possible for them to land on the roadway at Bontoc and then go over the mountains to Banaue by truck?” Dr. Okola asked.

  “Perhaps.”Lazada didn’t seem too optimistic. “Exactly where do you expect to find this golden skull?”

  He added, “I can tell you more about the transportation you will need when I know that.”

  “We only know that it should be somewhere among the rice terraces,” Tony Briotti said. “I realize that they cover entire mountainsides. That is why we came prepared to stay for some time if need be. There is so much territory to cover with our equipment!”

  “Many square miles,” Lazada agreed. “What is the expression?A needle in a haystack? Surely you must have some kind of clue.”

  “Just one,” Dr. Okola said.“A dragon. Isn’t that so, Dr. Briotti?”

  Tony nodded. “That’s what the translation of theKwangaraIsland artifacts said. The dragon is supposed to be guarding a cache of religious objects, including the golden skull and other gold objects.”

  “You mean a gilt skull, of course,” Lazada said.

  “No, the description was quite clear.A skull of metallic gold.”

  “A miniature, probably.”

  “No, sir.The skull is actually larger than life size.”

  Lazada stopped slouching in his chair. “Incredible!”

  Dr. Okola spoke up. “After all, Mr. Secretary, gold is mined right here in thePhilippines .InMountain Province, in fact. And it is found in many other parts ofAsia .”

  Rick had a strange feeling as he watched Lazada’s face. The Assistant Secretary seemed to be licking his lips, although he wasn’t actually doing so. It was almost as though Lazada was doing sums in his head.

  . . . Gold is heavy. ... It would take a lot of gold to make a life-size skull, even a hollow one. . . . Gold is worth thirty-five dollars an ounce, legally. If smuggled intoChina , it would bring twice that. ..

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  “Tell me more of this dragon,” Lazada invited.

  Tony was glad to oblige. Next to actually working at his profession he enjoyed talking about it. “The dragon is of the greatest importance throughout the culture of the East. We followed its trail from the greattempleof AnkorVat inCambodia all the way to the sunkentempleofAlta Yuan .”

  Rick remembered vividly. He had been at the controls of the Submobile , a hundred fathoms under the waters of the Pacific, when the first Alta Yuan dragon came to light.

  “The dragon was the incarnation of the chief god of the Alta Yuan people. When an earthquake sank the temple, the people of the island lost their gods. When we hauled the dragon back up and gave it to them, nothing was too good for us.” He paused. “By ‘we’ I mean the Spindrift scientists. I was not among the lucky ones, since I had not yet joined the Spindrift group.”

  Okola shared Tony’s excitement over the Alta Yuan find. “I, too, was very much interested in that expedition. And when I heard that the artifacts brought from the bottom of the sea provided a possible connection between thePhilippines and that ancient culture, you can imagine my excitement.”

  Rick could see that Lazada could not possibly imagine so much excitement over an archaeological find, but was too courteous to say so.

  “Then finding a similar dragon among the rice terraces would show a link between our country and the ruins of Ankor Vat?” Lazada asked.

  “Exactly,” Tony replied.

  Lazada rose. “Dinner is ready. Let us continue our discussion at the table.”

  They went out to a balcony which overlooked a garden at the rear of the house. A table set with the finest Chinese linen and delicate Siamese silverware was waiting for them. Houseboys waited to serve them. Over a dinner of broiled giant prawns, meat-stuffed rolls called lumpia , and whole barbecued suckling pig called lechon , they continued their talk of the expedition.

  “What is the significance of the golden skull?” Lazada asked.

  “I did not know until today,” Tony answered. “I found out from my esteemed colleague here. He has been doing some very hard work on it. Will you answer, Dr. Okola?”

  The Filipino archaeologist looked pleased, but he hastened to say, “The credit is not mine alone. I had the invaluable assistance of one of my graduate students, who is himself an Ifugao.A brilliant young man.

  Next week I am attending a celebration at his home, in honor of his becoming an assistant professor at the university.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t meet him,” Tony Briotti said. “Did you mention his name?”

  “Nangolat.However, Mr. Lazada asked about the significance of the golden skull. We were able to uncover a story about it among the many Ifugao myths, a story of which I had not been aware until Dr.

  Briotti’s letters put me on the track. You realize that the Ifugao religion is rich in myths. It is a very complicated religion with over a thousand gods.”

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  Scotty whistled. “They must have a god for nearly everything they say or do.”

  “Just about,” Dr. Okola agreed. “Even their universe is divided into five regions. There is the known earth, pugao ; the sky world, kabunian ; the region downriver, lagod ; the region upriver, daiya ; and the underworld, dalun .”

  “What river?” Rick asked.

  “Any river on which they happen to live,” Okola answered. “No one knows exactly what the original river of the Ifugaos might have been. You see, they are immigrants. They came from the Chinese mainland, but we don’t know exactlywhen, or whether their original home wasChina . Perhaps we will find out that it wasCambodia . We do know that their miraculous ric
e terraces were started at least two thousand years ago.”

  “That makes them almost as old as the pyramids!” Scotty exclaimed.

  “Quite right.The whole culture is quite astonishing. We think of them as primitive people, but their history is more complex than our own. However, we are speaking of heads. Heads have always been of the greatest religious importance to the Ifugaos. They have been head-hunters for religious and economic reasons for centuries. FirstAmerica , and then the Republic of thePhilippines tried to stamp out the custom. In general, we have succeeded. There is little or no head-hunting now-so far as we know.”

  Lazada grunted. “The mountains are difficult to police. I doubt that we know all that goes on. I wouldn’t be surprised if a head wasn’t taken now and then. After all, the Ifugaos got the heads of two American professors only a few years ago.”

  “The murders were for religious reasons,” Okola explained. “Sacrifices were needed for the rice crop.

  The unfortunate professors were on a hiking trip, and they happened along at just the wrong moment.”

  Rick remembered newspaper reports of the incident. It had attracted world-wide attention. The Ifugao natives responsible had been captured by the Philippine constabulary, tried, and punished.

  Okola continued, “We have traced back a thread through the complicated maze of Ifugao myths. The thread leads to a legendary hero-the leader-god who led the Ifugaos to thePhilippines . The golden skull was originally his own, turned to gold by the very power of the hero’s magic.After his death, of course.

  At first it was an ordinary skull,then it turned to gold.”

  “Then the skull has something to do with head-hunting?” Rick asked.

  “Indeed it does. It is apparently the chief object to which heads are sacrificed-or was, before it was lost.

  The golden skull is almaduan , the very soul stuff of the Ifugaos.”

  “How was it lost?” Scotty inquired.

  “In a war,” Okola said, quite seriously, “between the kabunian , the gods of the sky world, and the dalun , the gods of the underworld. The dalun won. They took the head and disappeared into the ground somewhere in Banaue. Behind them, they left a great taboo. If an Ifugao tries to follow them into the underworld to reclaim the skull, great misfortune will come. An earthquake will destroy the terraces.