And where was Scotty?
Again he pondered the mystery of Chahda. The Hindu boy had been registered at the Manila Hotel, waiting for the Spindrift party. Then, three days before their arrival, he had checked out and gotten a job as a guard at Lazada's. The disguise didn't cause Rick much wonderment. Sikhs, after all, are Indians, and Chahda had once worked for a Sikh officer in the Bengal Lancers. Rick remembered that from an incident during the Tibet expedition. It was probable that Chahda had simply gone to the chief Sikh in Manila—there was always such a leader—and enlisted his aid.
But why?
Rick tensed, sensing a presence near him. He raised on one elbow and thought he discerned a figure nearby. The figure was close to the wall. He had a hunch that it was Scotty, but he couldn't be sure. He made no further movement, waiting to see.
The figure became clearer, passed close in front of him, and from his low vantage point the man was silhouetted against the sky, which had a pink glow from the myriad neon lights of downtown Manila. No doubt of it, the figure was Scotty's. Rick got to his feet, and staying close to the wall, moved in the same direction Scotty had taken.
The inner ground of the walled city was fairly clear, but close to the walls there was considerable debris. Rick proceeded carefully, trying not to make a noise. He picked his way through tangles of weeds and wire, loose stone, and piles of junk that had been accumulating since the days of the Spanish conquistadors.
He was tense, and his face was wet with sweat. There was a possibility that the sniper was gone, but if not, a noise could bring a lethal slug. Rick thought grimly that the ancient walled city probably had seen many a murder in the more than three hundred years since the wall had been built. He had no desire to be the most recent victim.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, his foot struck the edge of a twisted sheet of steel. The sheet, all that remained of a Japanese armored car, rang dully.
Instantly the rifle flamed. The slug smacked into the stone wall a foot from Rick's shoulder. He didn't wait for the next shot. He hit the ground, scuttled a few feet, and stopped in a thorny patch. He grimaced and risked wiping the sweat off his brow. At least one question was answered. The sniper had not left.
Rick knew that the mysterious rifleman could have gotten away before this. The fact that he was still lying in wait could mean only one thing. He had known he was being pursued by the Spindrifters, and he had waited in the hope of picking off one or two of them.