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Updated: May 14, 2025
He called to Hassan, who was riding his swaying mount like a veteran. "What pyramids are those, Hassan?" "Sakkarah," the dragoman replied. "We come back long way around." To the east, then the south, Rick thought. He was by no means sure of what would be waiting, but at least he knew where he was. Sakkarah, a "must" for tourists, Bartouki had said.
I hope to show my appreciation when you return, and I shall certainly want to hear all about this. But for now, trust Kemel. He is my friend and associate." Rick promised to do so, said good-by, and hung up. He turned to Moustafa and Scotty. "Mr. Bartouki agrees. We turn the cat over." Kemel stroked his mustache. "Yes. But first, I must know of these attacks.
"It wasn't such a lame excuse, Mr. Moustafa," Rick corrected. "Mr. Bartouki asked us to deliver the cat to Ali Moustafa. We have no instructions to deliver it to anyone else." "I see. And I commend your discretion. But my brother Ali will not return for many weeks, and you will not want to take the cat back to America with you.
"If she hadn't, I'll bet he would have led around to it some other way." Scotty held up his hands in surrender. "I'll buy it. Bartouki needed a messenger. Why?" Rick sat down on the box again. Why, indeed? He knew now why he distrusted Bartouki, but he had no idea of the merchant's reasons. He glared at his pal. "Kill-joy. So we get back to the basic question.
Bartouki than discuss energetic chemicals." The merchant arranged things very smoothly. He announced that he would not dream of allowing protocol to interfere with such a fascinating conversation, and put the scientists together at one end of the table.
There was a toolbox in the closet. He brought it to the inspector. Ben handed the cat to him. "Saw away." Scotty held the cat firmly on a chair while Rick wielded the saw. Plastic sawdust flew from under the blade. Rick felt the blade hit metal and stopped. "Hit something!" he said excitedly. "Metal, but soft. Like lead." Scotty groaned. "Do you suppose Bartouki was telling the truth?"
Only where was big, fat, jolly Ali Moustafa? Or could I be wrong about the description?" Scotty was definite. "Not a chance. I remember the description the way you do. Either Bartouki didn't know his own partner, or the man you saw was not Ali Moustafa unless he took off weight and shaved his beard. And changed his disposition in the bargain."
Rick couldn't resist a mystery, but this one had him stopped cold for the time being. He didn't know what to do next. The only solution that had occurred to him was to send a cable to Bartouki, to ask for further instructions. He shrugged and put the problem aside, and went back to helping Scotty. It was late before Kerama called a halt.
"He might have been paid to take a walk, but that doesn't mean he knows anything." "Okay. Try this one. Where is the real Ali Moustafa?" "Good question. Now I'll ask one. What do we do next?" "You could cable Bartouki, or even phone him," Scotty replied. "You said you had thought about it." Rick hesitated. He tried to put his reluctance into words.
It was about ten inches high, in a sitting position with its tail curled around to meet its feet. It was of sandy texture, reddish in color. "Sandstone?" Rick guessed. Bartouki smiled. "I hoped you would say that. Here. Examine it." Rick took the cat. He liked it very much. The design was clean and elegant, stylized after the Egyptian manner. But it wasn't sandstone.
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