The Midnight Call
Rick and Scotty left the ground simultaneously in a dive for the legs
charging toward them. They connected, and the impact sent the attackers
to the ground. Rick recovered from the dive and tensed for a swing, but
he never made it. Arms locked around his chest, pinioning his own arms
to his side. He struggled violently, but the grip never yielded.
From the corner of his eye he saw Scotty get in one driving punch that
sent the Sudanese down to one knee, then Scotty was pinioned from
behind, too.
The big man and the Sudanese swung into action fast. Hands slapped
Rick's clothes in a fast but thorough search. Next to him Scotty was
getting the same treatment.
The big man spoke sharply in Arabic and both boys were suddenly hurled
sideways, landing together in a heap. They jumped to their feet and saw
only four retreating backs. Even the peddler had scuttled away, leaving
the spilled nuts on the ground. It was senseless to pursue the men. The
boys looked at each other grimly, then suddenly Scotty smiled.
"I don't know who they are," he stated, "but I'll tell you this. They're
real professionals. I haven't been taken like that in a long, long
time."
Rick had to agree. The two-team operation had been swift and efficient.
Neither boy had been hurt, or even roughed up particularly. That wasn't
the purpose. "So they won't get us in a public place, huh? Well, if
they'd wanted to do damage, they could have." He added, "And we couldn't
have done a thing. But all they wanted was the cat."
Scotty nodded agreement. He brushed dust off his trousers. "Might as
well go back to the hotel. I'm hungry. Anyway, they know now that you
don't have the cat on you--and that I don't, either. So what will they
think?"
"Either that it's at the hotel or the project, or that we've put it
somewhere for safekeeping. They searched the hotel room. Suppose they'll
try the project?"
"It's possible, I suppose. Anyway, if they want us they can get us.
Notice that no one saw the ruckus? The timing was perfect. A few feet
sooner and we'd have been within sight of the museum's ticket office. A
few feet later and we'd have been on the street. As it was, shrubs
shielded them. Pretty good operating, I'd say."
Rick thought so, too, and it worried him. "I have an unhappy idea
buzzing around. If I were the big boss, and really determined to get the
cat, I'd pick us up and make us talk."
"The language is a little mixed, but the thought is clear as air. We'd
better keep our guard up at all times."
"Meanwhile, what do we know about anything? Nothing. If only we knew why
the cat is valuable!"
"If it wasn't before, it is now," Scotty replied. "It's a genuine museum
piece. But if the cat is gone, we have three lovely kittens."
Rick chuckled. "What's the problem everyone has with kittens? It's
finding a home for them. I wish we'd had one of the kittens a few
minutes ago. There would have been one less homeless orphan."
"The kittens' turns will come. And it's our turn to eat. My stomach is
quivering in Morse code. 'Send food. Send food.'"
Rick pointed to the hotel, just ahead. "Okay, chow hound. Lunch ahead.
And lay off that hot-pepper stuff or that stomach of yours will be
sending distress signals."
"I hear you talking," Scotty said feelingly. One dish, served at dinner
the previous night, had required enough water to put out a three-alarm
fire before the burning sensation stopped.
Hassan was waiting after lunch. He drove the boys to the project, where
they looked into the control room long enough to let the scientists know
they had arrived, then went at once to look at the kittens. Three
identical statues, almost perfect replicas of the original, were sitting
in the sunshine.
"Except for being a little rougher, they're our own dear little
mysterious pet," Rick said. "Are they dry yet?"
Hassan passed the question on in Arabic to the workmen who had helped
make the kittens. He reported, "They okay. You can take now."
"Ask him if we can give him a present for helping us," Scotty requested.
Hassan did so, then shook his head. He grinned, his teeth white in his
pleasant black face. "He say making statues fun, not work. He help you
yesterday, so he not have to fix plaster. All even."
The boys laughed at the explanation and shook hands with the workman.
"Now," Scotty asked, "what do we do with the children?"
"One goes in my pocket," Rick replied. "I feel lost without a friendly
little feline weighing down one side of my coat. We can leave the others
here in a safe place, maybe inside one of the control cabinets."
"Good idea. Going to tell Winston and the others about this morning?"
"Sure. Only I don't think we'll mention where the mama cat is hiding
out. No use bogging them down with useless information. We'll tell
Winston."
Scotty quirked an eyebrow. "Not suspicious of the others?"
Rick wasn't, and said so flatly. "Only the more people who know
something, the more others are apt to find it out."
The scientists, however, were not even remotely interested. Their whole
attention was given to the problem of getting the big radio telescope
working.
Hakim Farid joined the boys long enough to say, "We've about decided the
strange signals are not originating within the system. Now we're looking
at the possibility that some local source is giving us interference. We
thought we'd eliminated all outside noise, but perhaps something new
came up after we finished checking."
Rick pointed to Cairo, visible through the control-room window. "There
must be lots of stuff down there that puts out radio-frequency signals,
even electric shavers and heating pads. How can you eliminate all of
it?"
"We can't, in the sense of really cutting it out. But the antenna
construction takes local interference into account. It's a tight beam
design that should prevent overriding of the main signal by any random
side effects. That's what Kerama and Winston are checking now. There's
not a great deal for you to do until they're through. In a half hour
we'll start to swing the antenna to see if we get an increase in the
signal by a change in direction. Until then, why not take it easy?"
"We will." Rick took the opportunity to tell Farid of the incident at
the museum that morning. He described briefly how they had been
followed, then attacked on the museum path.
Farid frowned. "I'm sorry to hear it. Cairo is pretty law-abiding,
compared to what it used to be. But we still have crime, just as you do
in your big cities. You didn't lose your wallets or anything valuable?"
"Nothing. We think they were after the cat."
"They didn't get it?"
"No. I didn't have it on me."
"That was fortunate." Farid frowned. "But why would anyone want the
cat?"
Rick did not have an answer for that, and said so. The scientist smiled.
"A cat isn't exactly big game for thieves, is it? On the other hand, the
museum itself was robbed several weeks ago in spite of the guards.
Thieves got away with a necklace supposed to have belonged to Kefren,
who built the middle pyramid over there."
"Was it valuable?" Scotty asked.
"More than valuable. It is irreplaceable. In terms of cash, however, the
value is around a quarter of a million dollars."
Rick whistled. "No wonder the guards watched us this morning."
Dr. Kerama called, "Hakim, can you help with these tracings, please?"
Farid joined the other scientists, leaving the boys to their own
devices. Rick hunted until he found a space under an amplifier that was
big enough for the two extra kittens. The space was covered by an access
door. The kittens would be safe there. It would be no real loss if they
were stolen, anyway.
Later, the boys helped check circuits while the radio telescope swung
through a variety of arcs, with Farid at the controls. The strange
signal came while the telescope was pointing only in one direction.
Rick asked Winston, "Could it really be coming from a single source in
outer space?"
Winston shrugged. "We've thought of that. If the source remained fixed,
we'd accept it as the most logical explanation. But since Kerama and
Farid first noticed the signal it has shifted its apparent location by
many degrees. That's why we think it must have some local explanation."
Rick understood. The sources in space studied by the radio telescopes
were fixed, in the same sense that the stars themselves were fixed. Of
course everything in the galaxy--even in the universe--was in motion,
but in spite of the enormous velocities, the change in location would
not be particularly apparent in a short time, or even in a lifetime.
A short distance away was a wonderful example of this kind of motion. In
the great pyramid of Khufu, Rick had read, a channel had been left so
the light of the North Star could shine on the altar of Isis. The
channel was still there. But in over three thousand years the slight,
slow wobbling of the earth on its axis had caused a shift. What was then
the North Star was now Thuban, in the constellation of Draco the Dragon.
The present North Star, Polaris, which is not exactly at the celestial
north pole, did not shine on the altar. Nor would the next star to
become the northern marker--bright Vega. But if the pyramids were still
standing after twenty-seven thousand years had passed, the cycle of
movement would be complete, and Thuban would again shine through the
channel to the altar of a forgotten Egyptian goddess.
It gave Rick a shiver to think about it. Even now, the pyramids were old
enough to have seen a change of north stars. They looked good for
another three thousand years or more. It would take a lot of time to
erode away that much massive stone.
Then he stopped thinking about it, because the telescope was in motion
again, and there was work to be done.
It was late night before the scientists were satisfied. The boys rode
back with Hassan, very thoughtful about the day's events. Now they had
both the little statue and the even greater mystery of the space signals
to think about.
Clearly, the strange signal was not of local origin. The scientists
rejected the idea that it came from trouble in the circuit. But it was
no natural heavenly object. What was it?
Tomorrow, Winston had said, they would decide on the next step. Right
now all hands were too tired to think clearly. The boys agreed that the
statement applied to them.
"Shall we eat?" Rick asked as they approached the hotel.
"Let's have a sandwich sent up," Scotty suggested. "I don't feel like
waiting in a dining room, even if one is open this late."
"Good idea." Rick leaned forward and told Hassan, "Just drop us off,
then go on home and get some rest."
"Not tired," Hassan said cheerfully. "You work, I rest."
They certainly were not working Hassan very hard, Rick agreed. But he
was pleasant to have around. They bade him good night in front of the
hotel and went for their room key. The clerk handed Rick an envelope
along with it. It was addressed to Mr. R. Brant, care of the hotel, and
the return address was in Arabic.
Rick waited until they were in their room to open it. A quick glance
showed that the room had not been searched, or if it had, with greater
care than the last time. He ripped open the envelope and took out a
sheet of paper, the letterhead printed in Arabic except for the name
Fuad Moustafa.
"Fuad Moustafa," he said aloud. "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. Only today did I learn that his
chief clerk, an officious person, had attempted to take delivery of the
cat by pretending to be my brother. The clerk shall be discharged for
this offensive behavior.
"'Since my brother is absent from the city, on business to Beirut, which
was the reason for his absence from the shop, I shall be delighted to
serve in his stead. 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."
The clerk asked him to wait and Rick put his hand over the mouthpiece
and turned to Scotty. "The first sensible suggestion we've had. Let's go
call on Fuad Moustafa. If there are lights, we'll pay him a visit. If
not, we'll come back. I'm anxious to get this settled."
"So am I," Scotty agreed, then added, "Only let's be sure this isn't a
trap."
The clerk came back on the line. "Hassan is here. He will wait."
"Thank you. Now, can you tell me anything about a Mr. Fuad Moustafa? Do
you know him?"
"Indeed, sir. He is a lawyer, from a well-known family. He has two
brothers who are also well known. One is Ali, who has a shop in El
Mouski, and the other is Kemel, who is a textile importer."
Rick thanked him and hung up. "It's our boy," he said. He repeated what
the clerk had told him.
"Sounds like pay dirt," Scotty agreed. "Only we'll still be careful.
Let's go."
Rick echoed him. "Let's go! If this is on the level, we can get the cat
in the morning and deliver it." At last, the secret of the Egyptian cat
might be unraveled!