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Updated: May 11, 2025
Allah protect you." Moustafa handed the phone to Rick. The boy said quickly, "Yes, sir?" "My dear boy, I am very upset by this affair." Bartouki sounded agitated, even across the miles. "Kemel will try to find out what has been going on. Meanwhile, please give him the model. And accept my apologies for getting you into such a situation, and my thanks for your loyalty to our model cat.
Then the ex-Marine motioned to the Egyptian cat, unwrapped and sitting in elegant repose on the writing desk. "What about Felix?" he asked. Rick went over and picked up the cat. "We'd better take it along, I guess. It might get lonesome. Or we might run over Ali Moustafa on the way to the project." He slid the cat into an inner pocket. It fit with room to spare.
Two hundred thousand dollars! Rick looked at the expressions on the faces around him. Scotty was standing with openmouthed excitement. Youssef was leaning forward, feasting on the wealth with greedy eyes. Moustafa was slumped in resignation. And Ismail ben Adhem had the look of the cat that swallowed the cream. "Now," Rick said triumphantly, "now we know why the cat was important!"
"Be glad to," Rick said. The merchant's eyes lighted. "It would not be an imposition?" "Of course not. I can put it right in with my clothes. I have plenty of room." "Believe me, I will be in your debt. And so will my associate, Ali Moustafa. You will like him. He is a great, jolly man, three times my size. If he had a beard, he would resemble your Santa Claus.
If Youssef did not take it, your own friend did. You would not leave it in the hotel, so it must be here. Either you give it to me freely, or I will shoot you and take my chances on finding it." Rick hesitated. "Make up your mind!" Moustafa snapped. The pistol steadied on a line with Rick's head. "Give it to him," Scotty said. "He means it." There were shots from outside again.
Scotty was with Hassan in the doorway, discussing some object in the display window. A voice spoke from behind him. "You wish to see me?" Rick turned. The newcomer was a tall, well-built Egyptian with glossy black hair and a military mustache. Unblinking black eyes met his gaze, and there was no hint of welcome in them. "Are you Ali Moustafa?" Rick asked. The man bowed a quarter of an inch.
When the camel's protests had ceased, Hassan spoke to him rapidly. The man answered at length. "He was with Youssef," Hassan said. "But he is also in the pay of Kemel Moustafa. Last night he went to Moustafa and told him about us. Moustafa sent him to bring us back." Rick hesitated. Could they trust this man? But it was a silly question, because he knew he had no choice.
"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.
"I can't," Rick explained. "It must be turned over to Moustafa." He didn't say which Moustafa. The thief sighed. "Then I was right. You are stubborn. Well, stubbornness is like starch. It does not last. In this case, we will let the desert and thirst take the starch out of you. After a few days here you will beg me to take the cat. But it is all so foolish, and so unnecessary!
"I will not bore you with an explanation of why this is, but the reasons are not related to this cat." "How did you know the cat in the pyramid was not the right one?" Scotty demanded. Moustafa studied the boy for a long moment before he replied. He shrugged. "I have been a contractor. I know concrete. The cat you brought is of plastic, which does not break. Or, if it does, it breaks differently.
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