The Egyptian Cat Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story
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CHAPTER II
The Egyptian Cat
The reception for Dr. Hayret Ahmed was at the home of an Egyptianimporter named Mohammed Bartouki. Barby, the boys, and Winston rang thebell of a brownstone house on New York's Upper East Side promptly atnoon.
Winston had checked with his host by phone, and his request that he beallowed to bring his young associates to meet Bartouki had been met withenthusiastic pleasure. Mohammed Bartouki had assured the scientist thathe would look forward to meeting the young people of Dr. Hartson Brant'shousehold.
The door was opened by a figure right out of _The Arabian Nights_, or soit seemed to the young people. The doorman was a huge Negro dressed inflowing red trousers that tucked in at the ankles. His sandals turned upin points at the front, Persian style. An embroidered vest set off aloose white silk shirt, and on his head was a red fez, shaped like asection of a cone, slightly less in diameter at the top than at thebottom.
"Please come in," he requested. His voice was accented. Rick saw that hehad two horizontal hairline scars on each cheek.
The man took their coats, giving Barby a courtly bow. "Dr. Bartouki asksif you will please join him in the salon. It is straight ahead."
As they walked down the carpeted hall Barby gave Winston a smile ofsheer delight. "He's right out of a movie," she whispered. "Even to thefez and the scars on his cheeks."
Winston smiled back. "In Egypt a fez is called a _tarboosh_. The scarsmean he is a Sudanese, from the country south of Egypt. I agree he's avery picturesque type. I suspect Bartouki dressed him up for effect.It's a common practice."
"What's Bartouki a doctor of?" Rick asked.
"I don't know. Law or something similar, I imagine. He's not a scientistor medical doctor."
Mohammed Bartouki himself came to meet them. He was a round little man,scarcely taller than Barby, with twinkling eyes behind horn-rimmedglasses. He was dressed in an ordinary business suit.
"My dear Dr. Winston, how nice of you to come. And these are your youngfriends?"
Winston introduced the young people. Rick found his hand captured in awarm, firm grip.
"Welcome, welcome," Bartouki said, beaming. "We will have an opportunityto talk about your trip to my country as soon as these scientists turnthe conversation to some matter of science we do not understand." Hesmiled at Winston. "You see, I know you professional people. Thenationality does not matter. Put two of you together and theconversation at once turns to some development a poor merchant cannotpossibly comprehend. That is why I am glad you brought Miss Barbara, andRick and Scotty, as you called them, if I may be so familiar. At least Ican talk with them."
Rick could see that Barby was charmed by the little merchant, and hecould understand why. Bartouki radiated warmth and enthusiasm.
In a moment the four Spindrifters were being introduced to Dr. HayretAhmed and a bewildering assortment of people. Evidently they were allscientists of different nationalities, except for two officers of theUnited Arab Republic consulate. Rick recognized a few of the names, andfound he knew one or two of the Americans.
True to Bartouki's prediction, the talk turned to scientific subjectswithin minutes. Rick followed the conversation, which was about a newdevelopment in the capture and study of free radicals, but only for afew minutes. The scientists were over his head in short order.
Scotty chuckled. "I always thought a free radical was a political bombthrower out of jail."
"It's a highly energetic chemical particle," Rick said.
"That's nice," Barby said. "Only I'd rather talk with Dr. Bartouki thandiscuss energetic chemicals."
The merchant arranged things very smoothly. He announced that he wouldnot dream of allowing protocol to interfere with such a fascinatingconversation, and put the scientists together at one end of the table.The officers from the consulate, evidently in deference to thedistinguished Egyptian scientist, continued to listen closely to thetalk, even though Rick was sure they didn't understand a word.
The three young people found themselves free to talk with their host,and the boys at once began firing questions.
Bartouki described Cairo and promised that he would present them withguidebooks to be read on the way over. He told them about things to doin the ancient city, and listed places that were "musts" for tourists.They included the step pyramid at Sakkarah, the Egyptian Museum, themosque of Sultan Hassan, and the mosque and college of El Azhar, foundedin the ninth century.
"Of course you will see a great deal of the Sphinx and the pyramids atGiza, since our new radio telescope is nearby. But most of all, you mustsee El Mouski."
"What is that?" Rick asked.
"It is the Cairo bazaar. There are several sections, known as _sooks_.They have names like Khan El Khalili, Ghooriyeh, Sagha, Sook ElNahassin, and so on, but the principal one is Mouski."
"Spell it for me," Barby pleaded.
Bartouki smiled. "What you ask is difficult. We use a differentalphabet, so there is no exact equivalent, only what is calledtransliteration, which uses phonetics. So the bazaar can be Mouski,Muski, Mosky, Mouskey, or anything else that sounds the same. Even forGiza, where the pyramids are, there are many spellings."
"I wish you'd tell my English teacher that." Barby sighed. "I think myway of spelling is just as good as hers."
Bartouki and the boys laughed sympathetically. The little merchant said,"Whatever the spelling, El Mouski will fascinate you. Many things aremade there especially for tourists. Some of the workmanship isexcellent, and the prices are very low."
"We haven't had much luck with bazaars that cater to tourists," Scottyreplied. "We prefer markets where local people buy, because the thingsare more authentic."
Bartouki chuckled. "That is wise, in most countries. But consider. Theattraction for tourists are things that are clearly Egyptian in origin,no? Such things vanished from all but our museums some years ago. Youcould not buy a genuine Egyptian tapestry, or a stone carving from atomb. Such things are beyond price. They are national treasures. But youcan buy very attractive and authentic reproductions."
"The people of Cairo wouldn't want reproductions, would they?" Barbyasked. "So they have to be made just for tourists."
"And for export," Bartouki added. "I import them myself for a fewAmerican shops. After lunch I will show you samples and you will see."
It seemed reasonable to Rick when he thought about it. Genuine Egyptianthings simply were not obtainable. "What else is made for tourists?" hequeried.
"Many things, of gold, silver, and ivory. There are bags of camelleather that Miss Barbara would enjoy having. There are brass goods ofall kinds, and copperware with a partial tin coating called washed tin."
The conversation paused long enough for a few bites of lunch, thenBartouki resumed. "We try to take good care of tourists in the UnitedArab Republic, both in Egypt and in Syria. For example, we license ourguide-interpreters, who are called _dragomen_. There is also a specialpolice force with no job but aid to tourists. And we are always lookingfor ways to improve our reproductions to make them more attractive andauthentic. I will show you a new design."
By the time luncheon had ended, the talk among the scientists hadprogressed to the basic theory of what physicists call "the solidstate." Even Rick, with his rapidly growing background of scientificknowledge, could understand only fragments of conversation.
"Let them talk over their coffee," Bartouki said. "They are enjoying it.We will retire to my den and I will show you examples from El Mouski."
The samples were everything Bartouki had promised. There were wallhangings, beautifully made of tiny pieces of colored cloth appliqued ona natural-color fabric, bags and pouches of leather, leather hassocks,ivory carvings of ancient Egyptian gods, inlaid boxes and chests, anddozens of both useful and ornamental utensils of brass, copper, washedtin, and ceramics. Barby went into raptures. At every new item she urgedRick to bring her one just like it.
"I'll rent a jet just to carry my luggage," he said, grinning. "You'vealready ordered
a ton, and I get only sixty-six pounds."
Bartouki came to his rescue. "Let me show you a new tourist attraction.It just arrived by messenger this morning."
He went to a cabinet, opened it, and produced a stone cat. It was aboutten inches high, in a sitting position with its tail curled around tomeet its feet. It was of sandy texture, reddish in color.
"Sandstone?" Rick guessed.
Bartouki smiled. "I hoped you would say that. Here. Examine it."
Rick took the cat. He liked it very much. The design was clean andelegant, stylized after the Egyptian manner. But it wasn't sandstone. Itwas heavy, but not heavy enough to be sandstone, and the sheen was notthat of a mineral. Whatever the material, it had been fashioned in onepiece, probably cast in a mold.
"I give up," he said. "What is it?"
"Plastic," Bartouki replied, obviously pleased. "It did not come fromEgypt. It was made right here in America. In Chicago, to be exact. It iswhat you call a prototype."
"But it's Egyptian in design," Barby protested. She took the cat fromRick and examined it.
"Yes, it is clearly an Egyptian cat. The design came from Egypt, but thecat from America. I have been working on this for months with a plasticscompany. Now I have the model, and the method. We will reproduce thesein quantity in Cairo."
"It's pretty heavy for plastic," Rick commented.
"True. We put a piece of lead in the middle of the casting. You see, itlooks like stone, and the buyer will expect it to be heavy. So, forpsychological reasons, we give it weight--only not so much that itbecomes a problem to carry."
"You certainly have it worked out," Scotty said admiringly. "But why acat? Why not a ... a camel?"
"We have camels of camel leather, brass, and wood. But we do not have agood cat. You see, the cat is important in Egyptian history. There waseven a cat goddess of the Upper Nile Kingdom, called Bubaste. In theancient tombs there are sometimes mummies of cats. Some cat lovers thinkour land first developed the domestic strain of cat. So we believetourist cat lovers should have an authentic reproduction of one. Thisparticular cat is a faithful copy of an antique, which I am fortunate toown."
"What will you do with it now?" Barby asked.
"Send it to my associate in Cairo, as soon as possible. I would like toairmail it right away, but you Americans overload the mails atChristmas, so it would be safer to wait. Next week I hope to send itwith full instructions, hoping to get production started in time for thebig tourist season. I wish it could go sooner. It is needed."
Barby said impulsively, "Rick leaves the day after tomorrow. He couldtake it for you. Couldn't you, Rick?"
There was no reason to refuse. It was certainly a worthy project, andBartouki had been generous in answering their questions.
"Be glad to," Rick said.
The merchant's eyes lighted. "It would not be an imposition?"
"Of course not. I can put it right in with my clothes. I have plenty ofroom."
"Believe me, I will be in your debt. And so will my associate, AliMoustafa. You will like him. He is a great, jolly man, three times mysize. If he had a beard, he would resemble your Santa Claus. And he willinsist that you accept some token of his appreciation. I will send theinstructions separately, so you need not bother with the technicalreports."
"I couldn't accept a gift for such a little thing," Rick protested. Helooked at the cat, now in Scotty's hands. It was a handsome littlestatue.
"Ali Moustafa is a hard man to refuse," Bartouki said. "You should notdeprive him of the pleasure of making a gift. But I will not press you.It will be between you and him. You are quite sure it will be notrouble?"
Rick's words would return to haunt him during the days ahead. He saidblithely, "No trouble at all."