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Updated: June 6, 2025
To Rick's astonishment the man tucked the pistol into a capacious jacket pocket, then turned and walked toward the outer entrance. Rick, Scotty, and Hassan followed. In a few moments they stood blinking in the sunlight. Their rescuer gave them a polite bow. "You are probably wondering who I am, and how I appeared so opportunely, eh? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kemel Moustafa."
"You should not deprive him of the pleasure of making a gift. But I will not press you. It will be between you and him. You are quite sure it will be no trouble?" Rick's words would return to haunt him during the days ahead. He said blithely, "No trouble at all." Cairo The jet descended smoothly over the desert on the approach to Cairo International Airport.
He wore thick eyeglasses with stainless-steel rims. On his curly hair was a tarboosh of red velvet. In his hand was a gleaming, snub-nosed hammerless revolver, pointed at Rick's midriff. "I know it's late," the man said pleasantly, "but may I come in?" He walked through the door, and Rick backed away to make room. "Are you Fuad Moustafa?" he asked shakily. The man smiled. "I have not that honor.
A cutlass was Rick's share of the loot, while Tony took the bar shot they had found near the wreck and Zircon selected a cannon ball. It was understood that the knife Scotty had found was to be his, so that he could present it to Hartson Brant.
The boys got out and walked quickly into the desert, found a barrel cactus, and began dissecting it with Rick's scout knife. The dust cloud that marked an oncoming vehicle grew larger, and in a few minutes they saw the panel truck and the trailer with radar dish mounted on it. As the truck drew nearer they stood up, Rick holding the cactus impaled on his knife.
"But for now, let's up anchor and get out of here." "How about the stake with the rope on it?" "The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back tonight." An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's get going."
Even at a depth of a dozen feet, Rick thought, he could have counted every grain of sand. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. At home, visibility of five feet was considered good. Lost in the enjoyment of really clear water, he completely forgot about the shadow. Scotty reminded him. He touched Rick's arm and signaled a stop.
Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of crime.
"But the sedan traveled without lights." "Not past the turnoff it didn't. Road's too curvy, and in too much shadow. That's why I was there. I knew they'd have to turn on lights." It was Rick's turn to give Deadrock Ogg his own question back. "Who are you, Mr. Ogg? Are you a busybody? Or do you have a right to snoop?" Deadrock Ogg chuckled. "The answer you gave me is good enough.
"That's whar they hev got the upper-hand o' humans." As he gazed again at the thicket, he saw now something that he had been too much agitated to observe before, a column of dense smoke that rose from far down the declivity, and seemed to make haste to hide itself among the low-hanging boughs of a clump of fir-trees. "It's somebody's house down thar," was Rick's conclusion.
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