Ismail ben Adhem
Rick awoke with the setting sun in his eyes. He yawned luxuriously and
turned over to look at the clock, then sat upright in bed at the sight
of Scotty and a stranger.
The stranger was young, with a friendly smile. He was relaxed as he sat
in a comfortable chair, but it was the same kind of relaxation one sees
in a panther or another of the great cats. Rick knew, without even
asking, that this lean, bronzed, good-looking Egyptian was a police
officer and that he probably was a very good one. He _looked_ like a
hunter.
"Thought you were going to sleep till tomorrow," Scotty said. "Rick,
this is Inspector Ismail ben Adhem of the Cairo Police."
The inspector held out a brown hand. Rick sensed the strength in it,
although the handshake was normal. "I'm glad you're here," the boy said
frankly. "Between Youssef and Kemel Moustafa, we're sort of in a jam."
The inspector smiled. "Well see if we can get you out of it. Suppose you
call me Ben, just to make things easy. Now, Scotty has given me a
detailed report of your activities up to the time you left the project
yesterday. Suppose we pick up from there?"
"Okay. Can I order breakfast first?"
"Of course. Forgive my impatience. We can talk at leisure over coffee."
Rick placed the order, then launched into a recital of yesterday's
events, including his night in the desert and rescue by Kemel Moustafa.
He concluded, "We came back to the hotel. Hassan opened the car, and the
cat was gone. Of course I had no idea what had happened to it. Moustafa
turned black with rage. He said I had a clear choice of getting the cat
back and turning it over to him, or having something unpleasant happen.
He'll be back at seven. He wasn't joking."
"No," Ben agreed. "I know this man, and he does not joke. What then?"
"I sent Hassan home to get some rest, and I came up to the room and
called the project. Scotty answered. He told me Felix was safe, so I
knew he had the cat, and he told me the police had been called in. I
just fell into bed and went to sleep. That's it."
"It's enough," the inspector said. "Of course neither of you had any way
of knowing what was going on. You had merely undertaken to do a favor
for an acquaintance. I just wish some kind wind had whispered to you the
idea of reporting to us after that first day in El Mouski."
"I guess we were wrong," Rick admitted. "At first it didn't seem like a
matter for the police. Later, we just didn't think of it."
"I understand. But it doesn't pay to be too independent in a strange
land, I assure you. Ask Steve Ames."
The boys stared in amazement. Steve Ames was a close friend, and their
contact in JANIG, one of the top American government security
organizations.
"How do you know Steve?" Rick asked in astonishment.
"He and I went through the FBI Academy together. We keep in touch. Also,
the International Police Organization, which is called Interpol, keeps
us up to date on developments. I know that your scientific group works
closely with Steve."
So Ismail ben Adhem was an FBI graduate! Rick looked at him with new
respect. "I guess we should have reported to you," he said. "We just
didn't know."
"No matter. It will all work out, anyway. In fact, your delay in
contacting us may even make things simpler."
"How?" Scotty asked.
Ben shrugged. "We will see. This cat of yours has many interesting
possibilities."
"Do you know why the cat is important?" Rick demanded.
"I have an idea. But please do not press me for details. It is better
for everything to go on normally while I do a little useful work. So, I
suggest you two continue on as before, with only one difference. You
will use a different taxi to travel back and forth to Sahara Wells."
"But Hassan is our dragoman," Rick protested. "What's more, he's a
friend. We can't switch now, after we engaged him for the duration of
our stay."
Ben smiled warmly. "Your loyalty to Hassan does you credit. But don't
worry. He will be taken care of. You and I will trade transportation. I
will use Hassan, and you will use my taxi."
"I don't get it," Scotty said.
"It's simple. Both of you are able to testify to criminal actions on the
part of Youssef. Also, if this works out as I hope, you will have
testimony to give on the actions of Kemel Moustafa. Now, if you knew
there was evidence against you, and you were completely ruthless, what
would you do?"
"Remove the evidence," Rick said slowly. His eyes met Scotty's.
"Exactly. So, Hassan stays with me, and your taxi driver will be one of
my best officers. He will stay with you at all times. While you are in
the hotel, another of my men will be your hall porter."
"Do you really think we're in any danger?" Scotty asked.
"Don't ever doubt it, Scotty. Be on guard at all times."
"It's because the cat is very important," Rick stated. "And the cat is
important because of something inside of it. You know what that
something is."
"An excellent deduction," Ben agreed with a grin. "All but the last
statement. I do not know what it is. I merely suspect. My evidence is
circumstantial. I'll tell you this much, though. I know a great deal
about certain interests of the Moustafa brothers, and I was informed by
Interpol that there is an interesting gentleman of great wealth in San
Francisco who talks too much."
Rick thought over the statement. It didn't help at all. He couldn't see
what a talkative man in California had to do with the Egyptian cat.
"That's not very informative," he objected.
Ben laughed. "I'm sure it isn't. But I'll make you a promise. Before you
leave Egypt, we will perform a small operation on the cat and remove its
appendix--or whatever else it may have inside."
"We'll hold you to that," Scotty told him.
Rick's breakfast arrived, and over _cafe au lait_ and Egyptian rolls
Ismail ben Adhem questioned Rick until he was sure he had extracted all
the information the two boys had.
It suddenly occurred to Rick that he had asked no questions himself.
"Where's the cat?" he demanded.
"At the project," Scotty replied. "I was going to turn it over to Ben,
but he said to leave it there."
"It might be uncomfortable at the station," Ben added with a twinkle.
"After all, it's a well-cared-for pet."
Rick grinned. "We've grown fond of it," he admitted. "Second question:
can't you just pick up Youssef on a kidnapping charge?"
"We could, if we knew where to find him. But Youssef is a hard man to
locate when he goes underground. We've been trying to get something on
him for years, and we know him well. This time he's over-played his hand
and we've got him. It's only a question of time."
"How about Moustafa?" Rick asked. "Is he guilty of anything?"
The police officer finished his coffee and rose. "Not yet," he said.
"But he will be. Now, stay together at all times. Ride with the taxi
driver who will be waiting for you in the hall. Otherwise, go about your
business as usual, and have a good time."
Scotty saw him to the door, then turned to Rick. "Moustafa isn't guilty
of anything yet, but he will be. That's interesting."
Rick thought so, too. "Isn't it pretty careless, leaving the cat at the
project?"
"Seems so," Scotty agreed. "But I think Ben knows what he's doing."
"I guess you're right," Rick said soberly.
After more coffee and a shower, he felt like himself again. There was
work to do at the project, so the two boys picked up the police driver,
who was keeping an eye on their door, and rode to the project.
The scientists greeted Rick happily. "We were pretty worried for a
while," Winston said, and the Egyptians echoed him.
"We don't usually treat tourists this way," Farid said jokingly, but
behind the smile Rick sensed that the Egyptian scientist was embarrassed
by what had happened to a guest.
"I got myself into it," Rick pointed out. "If we had gone to the police
about the Egyptian cat that first day, there would have been no
trouble."
Dr. Kerama put a hand on his shoulder. "It is very kind of you to try to
save our feelings. But we were so involved in this fascinating problem
that we simply didn't pay enough attention. Otherwise, we could have
advised you to see the police."
"How is it going?" Rick asked.
"Very well," Farid said. "We're exchanging reports constantly with the
other radio telescopes and it's clear that we have something
extraordinary. We're trying to agree on the precise location of this
space object. The next step will be to examine the signals more closely
to see if a pattern can be found or if they're simply random."
"If you and Scotty feel up to it," Winston added, "we'd like you to
duplicate the audio tapes for us. We want to send a set right away to
Green Bank. They started audio recording, too, yesterday, but they don't
have the hours when the object was in sight of our telescope but not
theirs. They're duplicating the signals we didn't get after the object
dropped below our horizon. That way we'll both have a complete record
for analysis."
"What is the space object?" Rick asked.
Winston shook his head. "We don't know. It's too early even to speculate
much. Can you make the duplicates?"
It was early evening. "We can get sandwiches at the Mena House and work
until we're finished," Rick replied. "That will get us home before
midnight. There can't be more than a few hours to record."
"Fine. You'll be alone, but since the inspector put a police guard on
you, I'm sure it will be all right."
Farid had arranged the technical setup, using another unit borrowed from
the government radio station for the purpose. All they would need to do
was feed tape into the machines and watch the recording level.
One of the Egyptian technicians drove to the Mena House and brought back
sandwiches and cokes. The scientists departed, to have a quick dinner
and then resume work at a different location where a computer was
available to do the complicated mathematics required for analysis of the
data.
Rick and Scotty started work right away. The police driver sat in a
chair and watched them. He spoke English, but wasn't much of a
conversationalist. After a while the boys forgot he was there.
Listening to the space signal was strange. As the tape ran through, Rick
was certain his ear detected a kind of pattern in the sounds. There was
a continuous hiss; that was normal hydrogen on the 21-centimeter wave
length. Then there were sharper hisses, as though some strange creature
was trying to send a coded message through the noisy hydrogen
background.
"It's a message of some kind," Rick stated. "I'll bet on it."
"Who sends messages from space?" Scotty asked with a grin. "Ghouls,
ghosties, or long-legged beasties?"
"Don't laugh," Rick said impatiently. "Didn't you ever hear of Project
Ozma?"
Scotty hadn't. "The wizard of Ozma?"
"The name comes from Princess Ozma of Oz, I guess, but it was the first
project to use the Green Bank telescope to try to locate intelligent
signals from space. Stuff exactly like this."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. On the level."
Scotty listened to the continuous signal, his face thoughtful. "Maybe
there is intelligence behind it. And maybe not. I don't get much of a
pattern out of the sounds."
"Maybe the seven-eyed men of the planet Glup don't have rhythm," Rick
began. "Anyway ..."
He never finished the sentence. The control-room door slammed open.
Arabs crashed through, bringing the police guard to his feet with a
bound. He snatched a pistol from a shoulder holster and got off two
shots before an answering shot caught him and spun him around with the
impact. The police guard slid slowly to the floor!