Third Brother Smiles
Rick was nearest to the broken kitten. He went over and picked up three
large pieces. There were a few smaller ones, but he didn't think they
would matter. He walked over and held the pieces out.
The man with the pistol took one and examined it. Rick noted that it was
the biggest piece, actually over half the cat.
Suddenly the man smiled. It was a fine, happy smile that showed white
teeth under his black mustache.
"A fine specimen," he said. "Where did you get it?"
"It just sort of came to us," Rick evaded.
"Indeed? A pity it was broken. Do you want the pieces?"
This surprised Rick. He stared into the smiling brown eyes. "No. Don't
you?"
"I have a definite interest in cats, but not in this one. Come, shall we
go to the outside? I think you have probably had enough of Khufu's tomb
by this time, eh?"
The pistol motioned to the outstretched Arabs. "This carrion will not
bother us. I told them the first man to step outside the pyramid before
an hour has elapsed would be shot."
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."
The brother of Ali and Fuad! Rick remembered the words of the hotel
intruder who had taken the first kitten: The Moustafas were known for
the largest mustaches and noses in the United Arab Republic. Well, the
description fitted.
"I'm Rick Brant," he said. "This is Don Scott, and our guide, Hassan."
Kemel Moustafa shook hands all around. "I am thirsty," he announced. "We
will exchange stories over coffee, eh? The Mena House is close by, and I
have a car."
"So do we," Rick said. "We came in Hassan's car."
"Then let us drive down in our separate cars and meet there. We have
much to talk over."
That was an understatement, Rick thought. He wondered as Hassan drove
them to the hotel below the pyramids: had the business in the pyramid
been staged so Kemel could come to the rescue? If not, that meant two
different groups were interested in the cat.
The way Kemel Moustafa had looked at the broken kitten was revealing,
too. One glance and he had rejected it. How had he known? He put the
question aloud to Scotty.
"Maybe it didn't break like plastic," Scotty guessed. "Or, it's possible
the original is unbreakable."
Rick didn't think either of those answers could be the right one. "Could
there be something inside the cat? Kernel would have seen right away
that the broken one was solid."
"There's a hunk of lead in the cat, according to Bartouki. But suppose
you're right, and it isn't lead? What could be valuable enough to cause
all these wild goings-on?"
"Diamonds. Rubies. Maybe a radium needle in a lead shield. The
possibilities are endless."
"Uhuh. Only one thing bothers me a little. Why use a plastic cat as a
container to smuggle things into Egypt? There must be better ways."
"This way hasn't been very successful," Rick agreed. "Anyway, here's the
hotel. Let's ask Kemel Moustafa."
Over coffee, Rick asked the third Moustafa brother many questions, and
received answers to most of them--although the answers were not always
satisfactory.
Moustafa anticipated some of the questions. As the waiter brought
coffee, he pulled out his wallet and showed the boys his identity card,
driver's license, and business card. Clearly, he was Kemel Moustafa.
"I have been to Khartoum on business," he said. "Last night I returned
to the city and found that a family emergency had taken both of my
brothers out of town. Fuad left very suddenly, after he had written to
you. I apologize on his behalf. However, he must be excused, since a
call from Ali, in Beirut, sent him running to the airport to catch the
next flight. He simply had no time even to call you. His secretary tried
to call you today, without success."
"We wondered," Rick said.
"Of course. And you are also wondering how I came into the pyramid at
just the right time. A fortunate accident. You see, I came to Sahara
Wells hoping to see you, but you were sightseeing. Dr. Winston was kind
enough to tell me where you were. I simply went hunting for you. A quick
drive around the area told me you must be in one of the pyramids, and
the biggest one seemed the most logical place to look for you."
Rick believed him. Moustafa wouldn't tell a tale that a moment's talk
with Winston would disprove.
"Who was the man who pretended to be your brother Ali?" Scotty asked.
"His chief clerk. He is an arrogant type who often shows poor judgment.
Instead of simply explaining to you that Ali was out of town, he
apparently told you he was Ali. This was the case?"
Rick confirmed it.
"He will be discharged at once. I suspected it when I questioned him
last night. He gave some lame excuse about your refusing to hand over
the cat to anyone except my brother Ali. He told Fuad the same thing,
according to his secretary."
"It wasn't such a lame excuse, Mr. Moustafa," Rick corrected. "Mr.
Bartouki asked us to deliver the cat to Ali Moustafa. We have no
instructions to deliver it to anyone else."
"I see. And I commend your discretion. But my brother Ali will not
return for many weeks, and you will not want to take the cat back to
America with you. So we will telephone Mohammed Bartouki, and you will
hear directly from him that I am a suitable substitute for my brother."
Scotty asked bluntly, "Why is the cat so important?"
Moustafa spread his hands wide. "Why not? The creature will open a new
industry in Cairo. It will employ a number of people. It will make a
profit for the Moustafa-Bartouki enterprises. It will please the
tourists. Obviously the cat is important."
Rick tossed in his loaded question. "How did you know the cat in the
pyramid wasn't the cat we brought from America?"
Kernel Moustafa's thick eyebrows went up. "It was obvious, was it not?
The broken cat was made of colored concrete. The cat Bartouki took such
pains to develop was of a plastic that does not have the graininess of
concrete. If you tell me the one in the pyramid was indeed the original,
I will be very disappointed. Such a model would not be suitable."
"It wasn't," Rick said briefly.
"Ah. And where is the original?"
Rick's smile was every bit as warm and friendly as Kemel Moustafa's.
"Perhaps the answer to that had better wait until we have talked to
Bartouki."
The Egyptian's smile broadened. "Discretion in one so young," he
proclaimed, "is a rare and precious thing." He put money on the table
for their coffee and rose.
"You will excuse me? I have business in the city. But tonight at seven I
will come to your hotel and we will phone our friend in New York. It
will then be noon in New York, and we will find him reading the Koran at
home. This is his custom. Until then, _Assalamo alaikum_, which is to
say, 'Good day to you.'"
As the boys walked to where Hassan waited, Scotty grinned at Rick.
"'Discretion in one so young,'" he quoted, "'is a rare and precious
thing.' He should know you as I do. Discretion has nothing to do with
it. You just don't want to part with that cat until you know everything
there is to know about it."
Rick shrugged. "I haven't heard you volunteering to hand the poor
creature over. Besides, our pal Kemel is not all that he seems."
"And how do you know?"
"Easy. Did he ask us who jumped us in the pyramid, or why? Did he
explain why he carries a Luger? Nope, to both. He carries a Luger
because there's danger in this business. And he knows why those Arabs
jumped us. He may not know them by name, but he knows what they were
after, and he knows why."
"Which is more than we know," Scotty concluded.
"For now," Rick agreed. "But we'll find out before we're through, one
way or another!"