The Golden Skull Part 7

"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 doc.u.ments. 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.

Scotty and Tony echoed his remark and they shook hands all around. Angel tucked the pesos into his wallet and hurried out.

"Good deal," Scotty said. "He's a lot of man. Notice those shoulders?

And his hands show he's used to work. I like him."

Rick and Tony did, too, and said so. "I feel better about him going off alone with our stuff," Rick said.

"Except for the SS," Scotty added, referring to the earth scanner. "You heard what he said about the road to Baguio? That's a delicate gadget and we don't want it banged around too much."

"You've got a point," Rick agreed. "Suppose we take it with us in the plane?"

"Good idea." Scotty rose. "Tony, we'll go on to the airport and meet you here about eleven thirty. Okay?"

"That will give me plenty of time." The scientist hesitated. "I know you'll take care of yourselves. Remember that we have a sniper after us.

Not to mention an Ifugao with no palate. Incidentally, I suspect that our friend Angel has a little Igorot or Ifugao blood. Did you notice that he resembles the American Indian?"

"I did," Rick said. "Would it be unusual for him to have Igorot blood?"

"Not particularly. There is some intermarriage of Christian Filipinos with the pagans. Also, Angel may have some Chinese blood, which would account for the unusually high cheekbones and rather flat face. He doesn't have the Mongoloid eye fold which gives the appearance of slant eyes, but that means nothing. Many Filipinos with Chinese blood lack it."

"What are the Filipinos, anyway?" Scotty asked as they walked to the door.

"Originally, the Filipinos were of almost pure Malay blood. But there was much intermarriage with the Chinese and the Spanish, and now, particularly around Manila, _mestizos_, which is what persons of mixed race are called, are very common."

Tony hailed a taxi at the door and the boys went to their room. Rick had put a thread across the bottom of the cas.e.m.e.nt window. It was not disturbed, nor was the chair he had carefully placed so that anyone coming through the door would move it slightly. There had been no prowlers while they were at breakfast.

The boys opened the case containing the earth scanner and lifted out the leather carrying cases which contained the electronic controls and amplifiers and the delicate scanning tube. They carried the cases down to the lobby and took a cab to the airport.

The ride was pleasant, since the way to the airport was along Dewey Boulevard, which edged Manila Bay. Far across the bay they could see the American Naval Station at Cavite. And to the north was Mariveles Mountain on Bataan Peninsula.

Here and there the sail of a banca dotted the brown water. In the bancas--outrigger canoes--were fishermen. A large part of the Filipino diet was fish.

The highway branched away from the bay finally, and a short time later they arrived at the modern airport, once the American Air Corps base of Nichols Field.

The Sky Wagon was as they had left it, apparently undisturbed. But they were not taking anything for granted. Rick and Scotty checked the plane over literally inch by inch, searching for signs of tampering.

As Rick examined the landing struts, a shadow fell across the doorway.

He looked up to see an American watching him.