The Broad Sahara
There was no way around the caravan without going into the desert, and
the car was too close to turn around. They were trapped!
Rick hurriedly took the cat from his pocket and stuffed it down behind
the cushion of the car, pushing until it was well hidden. He knew he
would be searched; why else would Youssef come? He hoped a search was
all there was to worry about.
Hassan leaned out of his window and shouted imprecations in Arabic, to
which the Arabs paid no attention. They closed around the car, and Rick
recognized two who had taken part in the attack at the museum--the
Sudanese and the big Egyptian who had worn a tarboosh. He also
recognized the one he had beaned with the kitten in the pyramid.
He was not among friends, he thought grimly.
Youssef opened the door. "Please get out," he requested. "It will be
easier if you co-operate."
Rick looked at the odds and had to agree. He got out. Hassan was right
behind him, still shouting in Arabic.
An Arab stepped up behind the guide and slugged him. Rick started to
yell a protest, then a burnoose was tossed over his head and wrapped
tightly around his chest, blocking out the light. He struggled, and was
pushed to the ground. In a moment he was rolled over and knew they were
wrapping him in a blanket or a rug.
He felt pressure as ropes bound him tight, then he was lifted and placed
on something hard, stomach down, like a sack of meal on a chair. The
chair lifted and rocked, and he heard loud groans, as though of a soul
in mortal pain.
He was on one of the camels, and the beast was protesting!
Swaying motion began, and he knew his ungainly steed was underway.
For a moment he seemed to see himself from a distance, wrapped like
Cleopatra in a rug, tossed on a camel like a bag of old clothes, and
carted unceremoniously away by a band of Arabs. The picture was so
ridiculous that he had to grin, in spite of the discomfort and the foul
air that reached him through the dirty burnoose.
Then realization hit him. Youssef was in charge, and Youssef was a tough
professional thief who intended to get the cat. Where was the thief
taking him?
Sudden fear ran through his thoughts.
The camel swayed and jogged along for what seemed hours to Rick. Now and
then he could hear voices, but he made no sense out of the Arabic. The
camels complained constantly, and he felt like moaning with them. His
stomach hurt from the constant rubbing across the saddle and both legs
were asleep from the tight wrapping. His head dangled down, and now and
then his nose banged when the camel lurched. He couldn't remember ever
having been so uncomfortable for so long.
It seemed forever before the camel stopped. Rick hung over the saddle
unprotestingly. There was nothing he could do but wait. Finally the
camel lurched forward and Rick thought he would be thrown off, then the
animal leveled again. The camel had knelt, still complaining.
Hands pulled Rick from the saddle and he felt someone at work on his
bonds while the hands held him upright. Suddenly the burnoose was
whipped off, and the brilliant sunlight made his eyes water. He squinted
against the glare.
[Illustration: _Hands pulled Rick from the saddle_]
An Arab finished unwrapping him and stood back. He would have fallen
except for the hands that still held him from behind. 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. The
thief lifted it, and water poured into his mouth in a thin stream. Rick
licked his lips. "I'd like some of that," he said.
Youssef recorked the bag. "Doubtless," he agreed. "Mr. Brant, I size you
up as what you Americans term a stubborn case. However, I am prepared to
drop this whole affair right now--if you will turn over the cat without
further trouble."
"We gave you a cat," Rick reminded.
"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?"
"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! 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. He gestured at the surrounding
wastes. "We leave you to do what you wish. You might even try to walk to
civilization. I will leave no guard. However, I do not recommend it,
because when I return it might not be possible to find you in time if
you should leave here. When I come back I will have writing materials
and you will send a note to your friend Scott, telling him to give me
the cat. 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. "Hurts like fire, but I okay. You?"
"I'm fine."
"What we do now?"
Rick saw the camels disappear behind a dune, then emerge again. It was a
pretty, romantic picture, but one he couldn't appreciate.
"We wait," he told Hassan. "We wait, and I guess we hope. There's
nothing else we can do."