Suddenly the corporal was unable to understand. Rick yelled, begged, and threatened, to no avail. At last he hung up, defeated. "Something's fishy," he said. "Very fishy. The corporal knew what I meant, I'm sure. He treated it as a joke. Chahda, Lazada is behind this!"
Santos coughed. Rick whirled on him. "What do you know about it?"
"Nothing, I assure you."
The man was lying. Rick was sure of it. He grabbed him by the lapels and said, "Talk. Talk! My friends may lose their lives unless we can do something."
Chahda took a hunting knife from his belt and put the point against Santos' throat. "Talk," he said gently. "You have two seconds." He pushed a little.
Santos' light-brown complexion turned dirty gray. "All right," he gasped. "I am a good man, but Lazada is my boss. I do not like what he has done. Last night he stayed here, and I heard him talk to the American, Nast. They laughed about how they had told the constabulary that a group of crazy Americans were up here and would be calling them with a practical joke, to which they should not pay attention. They told the constabulary this both in Baguio and Manila."
"And they believed him, because he is Assistant Secretary of the Interior," Rick said bitterly. "Now what? We'll never convince them. He couldn't order them not to help, so he planted a story that would do the same thing. The only thing I can do now is call the American ambassador and see if he can go through diplomatic channels to get help."
"Take too much time," Chahda said. "It will be too late."
Santos muttered in the native dialect.
"What was that?" Rick asked sharply.