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He had an engaging black face marred by three straight hairline scars that ran in a diagonal across his cheeks. "Have honor to present me," the figure announced formally. "Name of Hassan. To serve you." "Come in, Hassan," Rick invited. "Are you the dragoman Dr. Farid sent?" "Is same, ya sidi. To serve you." Rick introduced himself and Scotty. He inspected the guide with interest.
There was an air of excitement at the project when the boys arrived there the following morning. Everyone was busy on equipment, or studying Sanborn tracings. Winston and Kerama were working a slide rule while Farid read figures. The boys waited until Winston gave a number, which Kerama marked on the pad he carried. Then the scientist looked up and gave the boys a big grin.
The boys examined banks of amplifiers that would turn faint signals into usable ones. The latest techniques had been used to ensure maximum performance. Outside, Farid showed them the self-contained diesel-electric power plant. They stood directly under the massive concrete mount for the great dish and marveled at its size.
Rick knew why he and Scotty had failed to solve the mystery. There was too much information they did not have, such as the disposal of the Kefren necklace and knowing that the Moustafas were the prime movers in a revolution. Farid and Kerama had not been surprised. "There are some who do not like the controls on trade and exchange that our government had to impose," Farid explained.
Scotty said, "I'm sure you have lots of theories, but honestly what do you really think?" The scientist glanced at his Egyptian colleagues. Farid urged, "Tell him what we talked about last night. It may not be subject to any real proof, but I think the boys have a right to know what we've concluded." "All right," Winston nodded.
That's what Kerama and Winston are checking now. There's not a great deal for you to do until they're through. In a half hour we'll start to swing the antenna to see if we get an increase in the signal by a change in direction. Until then, why not take it easy?" "We will." Rick took the opportunity to tell Farid of the incident at the museum that morning.
Today, it was a handful of skilled workers plus machinery. "Now," Farid said, "let's get back to the control room. Kerama is going to review the situation for the staff. Some of them are new on the job." As Farid and the boys rejoined the others, Dr. Kerama was pointing to a series of peaks on the Sanborn tracings.
He described briefly how they had been followed, then attacked on the museum path. Farid frowned. "I'm sorry to hear it. Cairo is pretty law-abiding, compared to what it used to be. But we still have crime, just as you do in your big cities. You didn't lose your wallets or anything valuable?" "Nothing. We think they were after the cat." "They didn't get it?" "No. I didn't have it on me."
He thought of Kemel Moustafa the revolutionary, the only one of the three brothers they had met and he thought of Hassan's saying. He added, "The little jackal barks, but the caravan passes." Hakim Farid laughed outright. "We'll make a good Egyptian of you yet, Rick." The time along the Greenwich meridian, from which all world times are measured, was 9:30 P.M.
The Nile came into view, and Farid pointed out the row of hotels on the other side. The Shepheard's and the Nile Hilton flanked the older, Victorian bulk of the Semiramis, where they would stay. They sped across a bridge, entered a plaza full of honking horns and speeding cars, then moved to the comparative quiet of a street along the Nile embankment to the hotel.
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