CHAPTER VIII
The Bontoc Road
"Dr. Okola instructed me in what I was to do," the real Angel Manotoksaid. "Nangolat was present. He was very helpful. He even gave me thename of an Ifugao priest who would help us. A man by the name ofPoison."
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 mystuff, so I would be ready to go to the hotel to meet you early in themorning. 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 mypeople, not for myself.' There was a great blow on the back of my headand I knew nothing more. I woke up in the St. Luke Hospital. They said Ihad 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 nottake 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 hegave 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 whatto do."
Angel's tone was not angry, nor did he sound as though he werethreatening. 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'sshoes.
"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 Spanishidiom. He also understood why Angel had not told Okola. The Filipinoarchaeologist had entrusted the Americans to Angel's care, and Nangolathad taken his place. It didn't matter that Angel couldn't help it. Hehad 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 wasfractured, I'm surprised that they let you out of the hospital," Ricksaid.
"They did not let me. I walked out. Then I caught rides until I got intoBaguio a few minutes ago. If you had not been here, then I would havefollowed 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 arethieves. Some are mighty thieves, but he is the greatest one of all. TheSecretary, who is his boss, is a fine man, and he will believe no evilof this Lazada. No one will speak against him so the Secretary andPresident can hear, because if such words are spoken, the body of thespeaker will be found floating down the Pasig next morning. This isunderstood 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 whosmuggle for him are caught, but he is not, because he does no smugglinghimself."
"What does he smuggle?" Rick asked. He was searching for some clue thatmight be useful.
"Anything. Chinese who cannot get visas to enter the Philippines. Hebrings many of them up from Borneo. Crude rubber. Gems from Siam. Heused to run guns, but the supply ran out. They were American war surplusguns, stolen by the truckload after the war and sold to smugglers likeNast. Now there are no more."
"What's Lazada's tie-up with Nast?"
Angel shrugged. "This is gossip. Lazada has a yacht. Who would searchthe private yacht of the great Assistant Secretary? Even though it waswell known that the yacht had been to Macao or Hong Kong and was loadedwith contraband?"
Rick swiftly outlined the events of the morning to Angel. "We must findDr. Briotti," he concluded. "What do you suggest?"
Angel thought it over, now and then raising a hand gingerly to hisbandaged head. "Everything Nast wants is in the Ifugao country, no? Hecan only want the gold, and it is there. When Dr. Okola told me of thisgolden skull you seek, I was afraid, for there are still many bad men inthe Philippines who want gold. Now Nast is after it. Maybe others. I donot think Nangolat wants gold, but he is an Ifugao. Also, his interestis in the Ifugao country. It can be nowhere else."
Angel's English sometimes had a queer, rather formal phrasing, but itwas clear. And so, apparently, were his thoughts. Rick accepted his ideaabout 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 forthe truck and the sedan with Dr. Briotti. If we see them, we can comeback to Baguio and telephone. The road to Bontoc is one way only. Onlyone car at a time can travel."
"One way?" Scotty inquired. "You can't mean that. How would people getback and forth?"
"I am not clear," Angel apologized. "What I mean is the road is toonarrow for cars going both ways. So the road has been divided in partsby gates. Maybe a car is going to Bontoc. It arrives at Gate One. Thegatekeeper lets it through, then he calls Gate Two and says he has let acar come north. Maybe another car is going from Bontoc to Baguio. Hereaches Gate Two, and the gatekeeper makes him wait until the car fromGate One reaches him. Then he lets the car to Baguio go through andcalls the gatekeeper at Gate One and says a car is coming. Then he letsthe car going to Bontoc go through his gate and he calls Gate Three andsays that a car is coming."
"I see," Scotty nodded. "One gate at a time. A car might be able to gothrough three or four gates, and then have to wait for a car coming theother way."
"That is it. There are many gates. I forget exactly how many. Also, toget from Bontoc to Banaue there is a road with gates."
Banaue was in the Ifugao country, in the heart of the rice terraces. Itwas their destination.
"Let's go," Rick said.
He had worked out a plan. The plane could scout the road quickly andeasily. By air it was only a short distance to Bontoc, but by road itwas several hours of driving because of the twists and turns. If theycould spot the truck or a sedan with four men in it, they could returnto Baguio and phone, and the vehicles could be held up at one of themany gates.
Scotty's thoughts were apparently the same, because Rick knew exactlywhat he meant when he said, "The sedan will give us trouble. We'll justhave to hope that we can fly low when we see one, and try to catch alook at the people in it."
"That won't be very satisfactory," Rick said. "When we get to theairport, we'll have Angel pump those workmen some more. If they're stillthere. Like a pair of real meatheads, we forgot to ask for details, suchas what color the sedan was."
They were fortunate. The workmen were still pecking away at the runwayshoulders. And they did recall the color of the sedan. It was darkgreen. But they didn't know enough about cars to know the make, and theyhad noticed no special details.
"Have you flown before?" Rick asked Angel.
"Yes. But not in such a little plane. Only the big PAL planes."
The air-lines office was open now. Rick got his keys, arranged forgasoline, and they moved the Sky Wagon into position. There was plentyof gas for a short trip, but he was taking no chances. He wanted a fulltank.
It took time to recheck the plane carefully, to make sure Nangolat hadnot sabotaged it. Then, finally, they were on their way. Scotty had amap spread across his knees and Angel had another. Scotty's map showedtopographical details like the height of mountains and their contours.Angel had an excellent road map distributed by one of the Americangasoline companies that maintained service stations in many parts of theislands.
Angel watched the roads and Scotty the mountains, and they got on theBontoc Road with no trouble. Rick climbed until they could see formiles. It was the only way to follow the tortuous route of the r
oad asit wound between mountains, hugged the side of high peaks, and dippedinto forested valleys.
Now and then they could see an Igorot village far below, but this wasmostly uninhabited country. On Scotty's map, not so far away, were greatwhite patches marked with a single word: UNEXPLORED. It seemedincredible that after nearly fifty years of American Government and afew years of independence, the island of Luzon, seat of the capital, hadunexplored areas. But it was true.
Rick knew that he need not watch the road carefully for a little while,except to follow it. If the truck and sedan were headed for Bontoc andBanaue they had a good start. He doubted that they were travelingtogether.
"You know," he said, "we're not so smart."
"I've always known it," Scotty replied. "But what have we done that'sespecially stupid?"
"We could have phoned the first gate and asked if the truck and sedanhad passed through."
Scotty groaned. "You are so right!"
Angel spoke from the rear seat. "True, true! It is my fault. I amashamed to you that I did not think of it."
Rick suspected that it hurt Angel to be so humble and admit that he wasashamed. He looked like a proud man, one used to holding his head high.
"We liked Nangolat," he said. "We thought he was Angel Manotok. He hadall your papers. We didn't doubt him because he looked like a fine man.We were taken in, all right."
Angel seemed to cheer up a little. "Yes? Then perhaps you understand howit was easy for him to catch me and try to kill me when I also liked himand thought he was my friend."
"That's easy to understand," Scotty told the Filipino. "No one couldblame you, Angel."
"You are good to say it," Angel replied. He seemed relieved.
Rick knew that they had made a friend by expressing their understanding.Before, Angel would have done his best because of Okola. Now, hethought, Angel would do his best because he knew they were friendly andunderstood how a man's pride can be hurt even when it is not his fault.
"We'd better start keeping an eye peeled," Scotty advised.
They flew in silence, inspecting the road below. There was almost notraffic. Since leaving Trinidad Valley they had seen only the Bontocbus, a brilliant orange speck on the road below, and two jeeps. They hadidentified the gates easily. Once they passed a gate where a south-boundpanel truck waited. Rick knew that the truck driver couldn't know whatkind of vehicle he waited for, but from the air it could be seen thatthe Bontoc bus was the only moving thing between the two gates.
The Sky Wagon was just above the tops of a series of mountain peaks andsteep ridges. The road clung to the sides of the peaks like a dustybrown ribbon. Rick turned up the heater a little because it was cold ateight thousand feet.
Then he lost the road. So did Angel and Scotty. Astonished, Rickcircled. He picked up the road again, followed it, lost it once more.
"Where does it go?" he wondered.
"Let's go see," Scotty suggested.
Rick examined the terrain. Their quarry might be on the lost section ofthe road. He had the choice of going down for a look, or finding wherethe road emerged and circle for a while. He elected to go down.
The Sky Wagon lost altitude in a long slip toward the valley floor. Rickand the others kept an eye on the point where the road vanished, and ina few moments the mystery was solved. The road reached a cliffapproximately a mile long and a half mile high. The road was about twothirds of the way up. To get past the cliff it had been necessary to cuta shelf into the cliff itself.
"Wow! Notching that cliff must have been some job!" Scotty exclaimed."No wonder we couldn't see the road from the air."
Rick flew parallel to the cliff until he had to climb to get over aridge. Below, the road emerged from the overhang and was clearly visibleagain. He gained altitude.
"Just had a happy thought," he said. "Wouldn't it be nice if the weatherclosed in? Here we are flying visual contact through some of thetrickiest mountains I've ever seen. I'm going to keep an eye on thecompass. You two concentrate on the road. If we do get weather, I wantto be able to fly a reasonable course back to Baguio."
"Didn't you get a weather briefing at the airport?" Scotty asked.
"Yes. Such as it was. Mostly it was local Baguio conditions and a briefreport on Manila."
"Something ahead," Angel called.
"I see it," Scotty answered. "A truck of some kind. Take a look, Rick."
Rick surveyed the landscape ahead, saw that he would not get intodifficulty by losing altitude, and went down for a look. He couldn't getcloser than a thousand feet, but that was ample. It was a load oflumber, although the truck was much like theirs.
"What color is it?" Scotty asked.
"Hard to tell. Ours was gray. This one looks brown."
"Could be dust," Angel offered. "Dirt road below, plenty dusty. Butthere are lumber mills up in this part of the province. Perhaps that isjust one of their trucks. You had no lumber, did you?"
"No. Our truck had only two crates on it. Besides, Angel--I meanNangolat--must be far beyond this point. He left last night early."
"How do you know?" Angel asked curiously.
"Yeah," Scotty echoed. "You sound sure."
"He got the scanner, didn't he? There was a risk that we might find outthat it was gone. He wouldn't hang around the airport knowing that wemight find out about the theft, would he?"
"Good point," Scotty agreed.
"I heard of this earth scanner," Angel said. "Dr. Okola told me. Ittakes pictures of what is inside the ground, no?"
"Not exactly pictures," Scotty said. "It shows a kind of wave pattern.You'll see how it works."
Rick snorted. "Optimist. What makes you so sure?"
"We'll get it back," Scotty said calmly. "No smart Ifugao is going to dous in the eye, chum. Not without a fight. We'll find Tony and we'll findthe scanner. Then we'll clobber pal Nangolat--or let Angel do it--andget to work."
"What do we do with Nast?"
"We get nasty with Nast."
Rick groaned. "That pun, pal, is strictly cornball."
"I've always wanted to be a pun pal," Scotty said.
Far ahead, green shelves gave a regular pattern to the base of onemountain. Rick pointed them out to Angel. "What's that?"
"Igorot rice terraces."
"Igorot? I thought the rice terraces were Ifugao."
"The Igorots have them, too. They are not so--I don't have the word forit. Big, make one open the eyes in wonder, very fine. The kind of thingthat makes you feel surprise here." Angel put his hand on his stomach.
"Breath-taking?" Scotty suggested. "Spectacular?"
"Yes. Both. These Igorot terraces are nothing. Wait until you see theterraces at Banaue."
Three pairs of eyes scanned the road ahead. It was deserted.
"Tell us about rice," Rick asked. "There was rice below when we flew toBaguio, too."
"Yes. A great deal of rice. You passed over Pampanga Province, which iscalled the rice bowl of the Philippines. That rice is grown in paddies,which are fields with little earth walls around them called dikes. Thepaddies can be flooded. Rice needs much water. Down there, though, theland is flat."
Scotty pointed to a razorback ridge. "This land sure isn't flat."
"No, but the Igorot and Ifugao workers make it flat by buildingterraces. Each terrace is like a little paddy. It can be flooded, justas the lowland paddies are. The water comes from the mountains in pipesmade of bamboo."
"It must be quite a water system," Rick observed.
"Yes. There are miles of bamboo pipes, but no water is wasted. The wateris put into the upper terraces, then it runs by itself through openingsdown to the lower terraces."
"Is the rice the same?"
"Nearly. There is another kind called highland rice that is planted likewheat. We have a little wheat, too, but not enough to feed many people.The highland rice is not very good. Paddy rice is better."
Rick was interested. He continued his questioning. "Are the paddiesflooded all the time?"
> "Oh, no. They are flooded before the rice is planted. You know we do notplant seed in the paddies? We plant baby rice plants which are grown inspecial places. The little plants are pushed into the mud after thepaddy is flooded. Then the water is left for a while. But if we left itall the time, the plants would rot. So after a while we let the waterout and only let in enough to keep the rice growing."
They were over the terraces now. Beyond them, Rick saw brown houses thatlooked like beehives. It was an Igorot village.
"We'll reach Bontoc soon," Angel said.
"No truck and no sedan," Scotty added unhappily. "They couldn't havereached Bontoc, could they?"
"The truck could have, easily, if Nangolat drove during the night."
"Then we'll have to keep hunting past Bontoc right into Banaue."
Angel tapped Rick on the shoulder and pointed ahead. "There is Bontoc."
Nestled in the mountains on the bank of a river was the town of Bontoc,a small cluster of wooden and grass houses. Rick saw that the dirt roadhad changed to a black top.
"I'm going to look for a place to land."
Scotty nodded. "Good idea."
Rick waited until the town was directly below, then he sized up theterrain and began to lose altitude in a tight spiral. It was insituations like this that the Sky Wagon's flaps came in handy. He pulledthe control down and the movable sections on the trailing edges of thewings moved down in response. He began to lose speed.
When he was five hundred feet over the town he flew parallel with theroad, searching for wires and other hazards. There were wires, but theyentered the town from the south, then branched west, toward Banaue. Tothe north there were no wires, nor any other hazards he could see. Andthe road looked level. He picked a stretch at the edge of the littletown where the houses were far apart. They were primitive littledwellings made of straw tied together in bundles. He hoped his prop washwouldn't blow them apart.
"Hang on," he said. "Here we go."
The movement of rice stalks in a paddy near the road gave him winddirection. He should land from the north. He circled, got into position,and started in. Scotty leaned forward, eyes peeled for obstructions.
There was excitement in the town below. People in Western clothes and inscant breechcloths or tight skirts of Igorots were running into the opento see what was making the racket. Rick hurried the landing a little,afraid the people would clutter up the strip of road he had chosen. Heput the Sky Wagon down with no sign of a bump and braked to a stop.Then, because children were getting near, outstripping their elders inhaste to see the plane, Rick cut the engine.
Two Igorot boys, perhaps fourteen years old, were the first to reach theplane as the three climbed out. The Igorots had the chopped-off bowlhaircut, and they wore breechcloths and nothing else. They stared at theplane, wide-eyed, then one said something to his friend in gutturalIgorot.
Angel Manotok grinned. Rick asked, "Did you understand?"
"Yes. I speak Igorot."
Scotty said, "They probably were talking about the great sky bird. Thatright, Angel?"
Angel's grin broadened. "Not exactly. The English equivalent would beslang. What he said corresponded to 'Hey, bud, get a load of the realsnazzy four-place job. And dig that retractable landing gear!'"
The boy who had spoken looked at Angel with suspicion. "You no Igorot,"he accused.
Angel chuckled. "You no Englishman, but you speak English."
The boy laughed. "Okay, Mac. My name Pilipil. I learn plenty plane stuffat Clark. Dig holes there for pay. See many plane."
Rick and Scotty got over their amazement. It was obvious that the boyswere more than fourteen years old. Their short stature and unlined faceswere deceptive.
"How old are you, Pilipil?" Rick asked.
"Eighteen."
Rick wanted to know more about the boy who had worked as a laborer atthe American Air Force Base at Clark Field, but there was no timebecause the rest of the crowd had arrived. The boys found themselvessurrounded by Filipinos and Igorots, all chattering with obviousexcitement and interest.
A Filipino who was obviously someone of importance pushed his waythrough the crowd. He was dressed in a business suit, complete withstarched shirt and tie, an odd rig for such a primitive village asBontoc, Rick thought. The man was smoking a cigar with one hand andcarrying a cane with the other. He hung the cane over the wrist on thecigar hand and held out the other.
"I am the district road commission. Leocadio de los Santos, at yourservice. Mr. Lazada informed me by letter that I was to place my entireresources at your disposal. You are Mr. Brant, Mr. Scott, and Dr.Briotti?"
"Dr. Briotti is not with us," Rick replied. "This is Mr. Manotok."
"Ah. Delighted. Please come to my office so we may talk quietly."
Rick looked doubtful. "We shouldn't leave the plane."
"Do not fear. It will be perfectly safe."
Santos switched to the native language, speaking briefly and withauthority. The crowd obediently fell back a few paces, leaving a clearedarea around the plane. The road commissioner had the situation undercontrol, all right.
Nevertheless, Angel Manotok said, "I will wait here."
Rick nodded. That was best. He and Scotty followed Santos to the office,a few hundred feet down the street. The office was on the second floorof a frame building. The first floor was a work area filled with tools,including a bulldozer and a road scraper.
Before discussing business, Santos insisted on refreshment. He clappedhis hands and a dungaree-clad Filipino workman appeared. Santos spoke.In a few moments the workman reappeared. Both boys were surprised whenhe offered them their favorite American beverage. It seemed strange tobe sipping coke in a place inhabited by primitive people clad inbreechcloths, some of them armed with short spears.
Rick got down to business. "Can you find out if a truck and a greensedan have passed through Bontoc?"
"What kind of truck, please?"
Rick described it. "We don't have the make of the sedan. It may have hadfive men in it." He couldn't believe that the sedan had reached Bontoc,however.
Santos picked up his phone, reached down, and whirled a crank. The phonerang. He spoke Ilokano into it, then received a reply from the otherend. He spoke again, then hung up. "That was the gateman at the edge oftown. No truck and no sedan passed through here today."