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Updated: June 18, 2025
Fez rose against her conquerors, and Youssef put all the male inhabitants to death. By 1084 he was master of Tangier and the Rif, and his rule stretched as far west as Tlemcen, Oran and finally Algiers. His ambition drove him across the straits to Spain, where he conquered one Moslem prince after another and wiped out the luxurious civilization of Moorish Andalusia.
"Yes. But not the right one." "How do you know it isn't the right one?" Rick demanded. Youssef smiled. "Shall we say that I had a cat expert examine it? Let it go, Mr. Brant. We both know you still have the one I want." "But why do you want it?" Rick asked. He couldn't help asking, even though this obviously was not the time for friendly banter. "I want it. That is enough. Will you give it to me?"
Why not be reasonable?" Rick looked around at the endless, shimmering dunes of the Sahara, and he wanted desperately to be reasonable. He couldn't. "Sorry," he said. "Very well. On your head be it." Youssef called in Arabic and two men lifted down a huge bundle from one of the camels. They unwrapped it, and Hassan swayed and blinked in the glaring sun. "You shall have company," Youssef stated.
"I only need one of you." His black eyes bored into Rick's. "One of my men watched you and Moustafa search Hassan's car this morning. The cat was not there. Where is it?" Rick started to shout that he didn't know, when a burst of shooting accompanied by wild yells broke out outside. Youssef spoke quickly in Arabic, then turned to the boys. "Sit down in those chairs. Move, and you die.
When I have the cat, I will see that your friends are told how to find you." The thief swung to a kneeling camel, and his men followed suit. A command and the camels rose, mouthing their complaints. Youssef waved, and the caravan raced away with long, smooth strides across the desert. Rick turned to Hassan. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. The dragoman put a hand to his head.
He looked over his shoulder and the big Sudanese grinned at him. He didn't feel like grinning back. When his eyes were adjusted to the sun, he looked around. There was desert in all directions, no sign of civilization anywhere. Immediately before him was an ancient stone structure, nearly buried by the sands. Youssef walked around one of the camels carrying a desert water bag.
Rick hoped that if they came from intelligent beings, they were of a kind that didn't get involved in gang fights. Next to him, bandages around one thigh, Youssef sat, his hands handcuffed together in his lap. Moustafa, unharmed but helpless, was handcuffed in another chair. From outside, the wail of ambulances announced that the wounded were being carried off, the police driver among them.
Hassan launched into a recital of his years with the Americans, who had been transferred to India, but still wrote to him now and then. Rick listened with only part of his mind. For the most, his thoughts went back over ground he had covered before, since Youssef had dumped the two of them next to an ancient crypt. The big question was, of course, what would happen to them?
"We got both Youssef and Moustafa, although the trap was only for Kemel. And you were never in any real danger, except for a stray bullet. I've been in the unfinished barracks with my men since noontime. The senior scientists knew it. That's why they were willing to leave you alone. Two of my men mingled with Youssef's gang as soon as they arrived, and weren't detected.
"But the time for being difficult is over. I want the cat, now." "I left it in Hassan's car," Rick said, with pretended hopelessness. Youssef spoke in Arabic. The pressure of the gun muzzle left Rick's back. He felt a cord being slipped around his forehead, a cord with hard knots that fell across his temples. "What you feel is a strangler's cord," the thief said grimly. "Don't be a fool.
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