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The reason I had to be careful is this. We went to Ali Moustafa's shop, and a man who did not answer your description of Ali Moustafa pretended to be him. We refused to give up the cat. Then our room was searched. We received a letter from Fuad Moustafa, and when we went to his house it was padlocked. Last night a man came to our room with a pistol and demanded the cat.
The next two castings broke, but three perfect kittens resulted from six tries. Rick was satisfied. "By tomorrow they'll be hard," he said with a grin. "Then we'll work out a cat distribution program. I may go back to El Mouski and hand one to the phony Ali Moustafa, just to see what happens." "Not while I'm healthy enough to stop you," Scotty said positively. Then he grinned, too.
Rather than answer a courteous, cheerful question from Hassan they had hurried off, as though afraid of something. But what? "Pretty strange, I think," Hassan said. "I just ask who can tell me where to find Fuad Moustafa, and they go." Scotty had been staring at the house. He walked to the steps and stared into the darkness, then went up them onto the porch. In a moment he came down again.
"Second question: can't you just pick up Youssef on a kidnapping charge?" "We could, if we knew where to find him. But Youssef is a hard man to locate when he goes underground. We've been trying to get something on him for years, and we know him well. This time he's over-played his hand and we've got him. It's only a question of time." "How about Moustafa?" Rick asked. "Is he guilty of anything?"
If you will call me, I shall come at your convenience. Or, if you will do me the honor of breaking bread at my home, I shall be at your service. Since my home is also my office, any time that is convenient for you will be my pleasure. Sincerely, Fuad Moustafa." Rick jumped for the phone and called the desk, "See if Hassan is still around, please. Tell him to wait, if he is."
You have never seen a Moustafa, or you would not ask. They are famous for the biggest noses and mustaches in the Republic. I could have lied, but it is my pride that I never lie. My identity is not important." "What do you want?" Rick asked. He kept backing away, because he wanted desperately for the man to follow. That would give Scotty a chance to move in from behind.
"Unless the guard insists that you go with him." "No speak Arabic," Rick said. "I won't understand. Let's hope the guard speaks no English." "Well, if anything goes wrong, Moustafa will just have to wait. So I'll take the first shift and you go get puss. That means I'll be waiting for ol' Kemel alone tonight at the hotel." "Looks that way."
He concluded, "We came back to the hotel. Hassan opened the car, and the cat was gone. Of course I had no idea what had happened to it. Moustafa turned black with rage. He said I had a clear choice of getting the cat back and turning it over to him, or having something unpleasant happen. He'll be back at seven. He wasn't joking." "No," Ben agreed. "I know this man, and he does not joke.
"The Moustafas stole the necklace, and smuggled it to America. Bartouki sold it to the collector, through an American helper. Then he had the money sealed in the cat. He handed it to me, because my sister gave him an opening and I fell into it. Meanwhile, you put Ali in jail, then Fuad. Youssef got into the act through the clerk. So then we had Kemel Moustafa and Youssef on our trail.
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."
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