" Scotty said. "I'm
thirsty. And I'm getting hungry."

"Again? We finished dinner less than an hour ago."

"It didn't seem like dinner," Scotty explained. "I can't get used to
eating when the sun is high in the sky. I don't care what time it is, it
should be dark when we eat. Now it's dusk and I'm hungry."

The waiter bowed. "Phone call for you, Mr. Brant--or Mr. Scott."

"Thank you. Wonder who this can be?"

"Chahda?" Scotty asked.

"That would be too much to hope for. Besides, he sends notes whenever he
can. Doesn't like to phone."

But it was Chahda. He gave them rapid instructions. Dress in dark
clothing. Meet him at Paranaque, a town to the south, just below the
airport. Hurry. Chahda hung up. He had obviously been excited.

Rick and Scotty ran for their room. They changed clothes, then Rick
tried to phone Tony at the museum. There was no answer. Constabulary
Headquarters regretted that Colonel Rojas did not answer the phone in
his quarters. They would send a messenger to find him. Rick left the
message that he and Scotty were meeting Chahda, then the boys hurried to
the desk and left a similar message for Tony.

A taxi took them to Paranaque. Like most small towns in the Philippines
it consisted of a cathedral, a market, a _botica_ or drugstore, and a
few houses.

They found Chahda in front of the cathedral. He was dressed Filipino
style in slacks and sport shirt, and his hair had been recut to a
modified crew cut-the only cut possible after the Igorot one.

They dismissed the taxi. Chahda had the jeep. While he drove them
through a backwoods road, he told them his story. He had pulled off the
one-lane road to let Lazada and Nast pass just before he reached Baguio.
Following them had been no problem from then on. They went to a house on
the outskirts of Baguio, and by asking a few questions of the house
servants--after first loosening their tongues with a few pesos--he had
found that Lazada was proceeding on to Manila by car the following
morning.

"There was a chance he might give Nast the skull to take care of,"
Chahda admitted, "but I not think so. Lazada not the kind of man with
liking for letting gold out of his hands. So I go to barbershop, get
haircut, pick up clothes where I left them with a friend of Dog Meat.
Then I drive to Manila and stop at Malolos."

That was a town to the north of Manila on the road to Baguio. Chahda had
pulled the same trick of letting Lazada overtake him.

"He co