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That is why I am glad you brought Miss Barbara, and Rick and Scotty, as you called them, if I may be so familiar. At least I can talk with them." Rick could see that Barby was charmed by the little merchant, and he could understand why. Bartouki radiated warmth and enthusiasm. In a moment the four Spindrifters were being introduced to Dr. Hayret Ahmed and a bewildering assortment of people.
The Christmas mails ... that didn't seem like much of a reason for not sending it by air freight. Bartouki could have delivered it personally to Idlewild Terminal, to avoid getting it mixed up with the domestic mail.... "I've got it!" he yelled. He hurried over and stood in front of Scotty and Hassan. "Listen, who sends mail at Christmas time?" Scotty's brows wrinkled. "Everyone, I guess."
"We haven't had much luck with bazaars that cater to tourists," Scotty replied. "We prefer markets where local people buy, because the things are more authentic." Bartouki chuckled. "That is wise, in most countries. But consider. The attraction for tourists are things that are clearly Egyptian in origin, no? Such things vanished from all but our museums some years ago.
I'll bet there are ten thousand Ali Moustafas around. How do you find the right one?" Rick didn't try to answer. Instead, he asked Hassan, "Could there be another Ali Moustafa in El Mouski?" The guide shook his head. "I ask my friend when we stop. He say there is only one, and he tell me how we get there." Rick's brows furrowed. "Then that must be the shop Bartouki meant.
Obviously the cat is important." Rick tossed in his loaded question. "How did you know the cat in the pyramid wasn't the cat we brought from America?" Kernel Moustafa's thick eyebrows went up. "It was obvious, was it not? The broken cat was made of colored concrete. The cat Bartouki took such pains to develop was of a plastic that does not have the graininess of concrete.
Then turn the phone over to me, and I will talk with him. After that you take the phone back again, and he will give you final instructions. This is acceptable?" "Absolutely," Rick said. He thought quickly. How could he establish Bartouki's identity for certain? Then, as the phone rang, he knew. Rick answered. "Rick Brant speaking." "On your call to New York. Mr. Bartouki is on the line.
"Spell it for me," Barby pleaded. Bartouki smiled. "What you ask is difficult. We use a different alphabet, so there is no exact equivalent, only what is called transliteration, which uses phonetics. So the bazaar can be Mouski, Muski, Mosky, Mouskey, or anything else that sounds the same. Even for Giza, where the pyramids are, there are many spellings."
So we will telephone Mohammed Bartouki, and you will hear directly from him that I am a suitable substitute for my brother." Scotty asked bluntly, "Why is the cat so important?" Moustafa spread his hands wide. "Why not? The creature will open a new industry in Cairo. It will employ a number of people. It will make a profit for the Moustafa-Bartouki enterprises. It will please the tourists.
"Any relation to Ali, I wonder?" "Read it," Scotty urged. Rick did so. "'Dear Sir: You have brought to Cairo, I believe, a plastic replica of a cat, which was given to you by Mr. Bartouki for delivery to my brother, Ali. I deeply regret the inconvenience caused by your failure to find my brother in his shop.
"Maybe it didn't break like plastic," Scotty guessed. "Or, it's possible the original is unbreakable." Rick didn't think either of those answers could be the right one. "Could there be something inside the cat? Kernel would have seen right away that the broken one was solid." "There's a hunk of lead in the cat, according to Bartouki. But suppose you're right, and it isn't lead?
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