CHAPTER VII
The Egyptian Museum
Rick hung up the room phone and joined Scotty at the breakfast table.The ex-Marine was munching on a Lebanese tangerine and watching the Nileboats below.
"Farid says to take the morning off," Rick reported. "The scientists areabout convinced that the signal isn't internal receiver noise, but thatleaves them up a tree. If part of the circuit isn't causing the trouble,what is?"
Scotty waved his hand at the scene across the Nile where a greatconcrete tower rose into the sky. "It's this land. Look at it. There's atower for television. A couple of miles away are the pyramids. Down thestreet is a new office building with aluminum walls, and it's right nextto a stone mosque that's nearly as old as the city. If you ask me, Horusor Thoth or one of the old Egyptian gods is getting fed up and messingwith the signal just for the fun of it."
Rick knew exactly how Scotty felt. The remarkable blend of the very oldand the ultramodern was visible everywhere in Cairo. But somehow the twodid not conflict, probably because the Egyptians had been wise in theirchoice of architecture.
"Maybe we'd better burn some incense and do a chant or two," Ricksuggested. "How's this? Oh, Osiris, son of Isis, please get the bugs outof our antenna."
"That's no fit chant," Scotty objected. "A chant should rhyme, shouldn'tit?"
Rick searched his memory for incantations to Egyptian gods, but therehad been none in the books Bartouki had given them, although the godshad been described. He improvised quickly. "Then how's this?"
He took a pinch of sugar from the bowl and sprinkled it on Scotty's headas an offering to the gods, then bowed like a high priest and chanted:
"_Anubis, Horus, Amon-Re, Are you near or far away? If you're tuned in close at hand, Clean up the H-emission band._"
The piece of hard Egyptian bread thrown by Scotty caught him just behindthe ear. Rick picked it up and threw it back, grinning.
"The things I have to put up with," Scotty exclaimed hopelessly. "I'msorry I brought the whole thing up."
"It didn't help," Rick admitted. "But it gave me an idea. How aboutgoing to the Egyptian Museum this morning?"
"With Hassan?"
"It's right across the park. Hassan can take the morning off and comeback after lunch to drive us to the project."
"I'm your boy," Scotty agreed. "If you keep your chants to yourself,that is. Try one on those old statues at the museum and they'd fall onyou."
"Oh, I don't know," Rick said loftily. "Maybe those old Egyptians had abetter ear for poetry than you have."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Scotty returned. "If it sounds so terribleto me, think what it would sound like to a poetry lover. Go on and makeyour phone call."
Rick did. He asked the desk to relay a message to Hassan, then askedabout the weather. The clerk spent a minute apologizing profusely. Itwas chilly, he admitted reluctantly. Very unusual for Egypt. Hadn'thappened since 1898. Most regrettable. And so on.
"He sounded like a Sunshine Tourist Service trouble shooter explainingthat the downpour was only a heavy mist," Rick said as he hung up. "Theweather is unusual, remarkable, etc. It's chilly."
Scotty finished his coffee. "Okay. Let's go. Got the kitty?"
Rick took the Egyptian cat from its nest under his mattress and put itinto the inner pocket of his coat. "Couldn't leave our pal, could we?Bad man might get 'im."
"We can't let that happen until we find out why the animal is soappealing," Scotty agreed.
"Spoken like a true Spindrifter. Do we walk, or take the elevator?Walking's faster, but the elevator is more adventurous."
"Walk," Scotty said. "You need the exercise."
Outside, the air was pleasantly crisp, but the sun was shining. Rickwondered if it ever rained in Cairo and made a mental note to look itup. He had brought a guidebook with him, and the map showed them thelocation of the museum.
They started off at a brisk pace, past the Nile Hilton Hotel, thenacross the heavy traffic of the bridge circle to the open park beforethe museum. As Rick turned to look at a statue he caught a glimpse of afigure dodging behind some shrubbery. His pulse speeded.
"Could be that we have a buddy," he announced. "I saw someone dodgebehind a bush."
Scotty took a quick look without seeming to. "Someone there all right. Apal of our little cat?"
"It's certainly no chum of ours, if it's anyone who's interested in us.Let's hike and see how it goes."
They strolled idly past the museum, crossed the street, and walked upKasr El Nil past the Modern Art Museum and the Automobile Club. Scottytook a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. They were of the silveredone-way mirror type that cuts down light transmission much as aneutral-density filter does for a camera.
Rick watched as he put them on, took them off again, and polished themwith a handkerchief, turning them from side to side as he watched forspots.
"I knew those things looked like headlights," Rick gibed. "I didn't knowthey could also serve as rearview mirrors."
"I may write an article on this for the Journal of the Optical Society,"Scotty said. "Works fine. Our buddy is a Sudanese, from the looks ofhim. Also, he has a comrade. A big, sloppy type in a black coat and atarboosh. I'd hate to tangle with either of them."
Rick thought of Scotty's comment that it wouldn't take much of adetective to realize he had the cat on him.
Scotty added, "Some distance behind are two other types, in tarbooshes.They're striding along at the same pace we are, and keeping theirdistance. I'm flattered. Looks as if 'they' figured it would take fourto handle us."
"Maybe they sent one for us and three for the cat," Rick said hopefully."Cats are good scrappers. Any bright ideas, ol' chum?"
"Yep. Let's go to the museum. They can't touch us in a public place. Gotthe map?"
They consulted it, letting the trailers see what was going on. Thestreet they were on formed one side of a triangle, with its apex at thesquare in front of the museum. The next left turn, and another left ablock farther on, would bring them to the front of the museum throughGami Sharkas and Shampelion streets.
Rick wondered if the latter was the Arab-English equivalent of the nameof the man who had translated the hieroglyphics on the famous Rosettastone and is considered the father of Egyptology. He knew from his studyof cryptography that the first man to read the strange Egyptian writtenlanguage was Jean Francois Champollion. Or maybe the map maker had madea mistake by misspelling the name. He looked for a street sign inEnglish when they reached the street, but he saw none.
He had to grin to himself at the strange turns his mind sometimes took.He should be concentrating on a plan of escape, not wondering about astrange spelling of a Frenchman's name. "See anything?" he asked Scotty.
"They're still with us. All four."
"Probably the second pair is in case the first pair loses us," Rickguessed. "Let's keep out of deserted alleys. They must be just waitingfor an opportunity to grab us."
"I hear you talking," Scotty agreed. "And I believe every Brantish wordof it."
They turned into the museum grounds, waving off guides who came running.Normally, they might have hired a museum guide, but they were suspiciousnow of all strangers.
Rick produced some piastres and paid their entrance fee. He noticed asign at the window that said all parcels must be checked. He was gladkitty was hidden in his pocket.
Inside, they paused at the sudden spectacle of great stone figures andhuge stone sarcophagi. There was a great hall filled with giant statuarystraight ahead, and on each side, wide staircases led to the upperfloor.
"Topside," Scotty said. "Then we can look down and see if any familiarfaces come through the door."
They walked up the left-hand staircase, past rows of ancient woodenmummy cases, and came to the upper landing. A few minutes were spentinspecting the last resting place of a one-time Egyptian lord, withfrequent glances toward the entrance.
"They don't need to follow us in," Rick pointed out finally. "Sooner orlater
we'll have to go out, and they'll be waiting."
"Sure. But it's wise to be careful. If one had followed us in here, we'dhave been forced to keep an eye on him. Me, I want to see this museum."
They wandered through the countless rooms of the upper floor, eachfilled with antique treasures that were impossible to identify. Therewere few cards of explanation. One room was crowded with alabastercarvings, any one of which would have rated a whole room to itself in amodern American museum. The great building was literally jammed withrare objects, many of them thousands of years old. Uniformed guards wereposted at every corner, obviously to protect the myriad treasures.
"The police are keeping an eye on us," Rick muttered.
"What else are they here for?" Scotty commented. "Don't try to carry offone of those ten-ton statues and they won't bother you."
Rick paused before a collection of brightly painted miniature claysoldiers, created to serve as a phantom army for some forgottennobleman. "This stuff is priceless. I'll bet they really do needguards."
As the boys walked into a small room containing shelves of assorted clayand stone dishes and utensils, Scotty exclaimed, "Look, on the thirdshelf!"
Rick searched until he saw what Scotty's quick eyes had spotted. It waspartly hidden behind a clay jug. An Egyptian cat!
Closer inspection showed that it was not the mate to the one he carried.The museum cat was darker, obviously older. It was more stylized andslightly larger. There was no identifying card.
The Egyptian cat returned his gaze with dark stone eyes. "Wonder ifthey'd like to have you, too?" Rick said to himself. Four men wanted theone in his pocket. He wished it was as safe as the antique before him.Suddenly he let out a pleased chuckle. He had the solution.
"Are you lonely, little cat?" he asked. "Would you like company?"
Scotty got it instantly. He patted Rick on the shoulder. "That's the oldBrant brain, boy. I'll duck out and distract the guard."
Rick moved on, inspecting jugs until he saw Scotty engage the guard inconversation. His pal gradually turned as he talked, until the guard'sback was toward Rick. It was the work of only a moment to slip the catfrom his pocket and push it out of sight behind the jug that partiallyscreened the museum cat.
He smiled to himself. From the looks of the museum, it was highlyunlikely that the cat ever would be noticed, even if it stood thereforever. If one of the Egyptologists ever did happen to see it, therewould be a new puzzle to solve. Which dynasty invented plastics?
He walked to where Scotty was busy with the guard. The officer'sunderstanding of English was about zero, and Scotty's knowledge ofArabic was slightly less, so they were getting nowhere.
When he saw Rick, Scotty stopped trying. He grinned and put out hishand. The guard grinned back and clasped Scotty's hand, with obviousrelief that the struggle to communicate was over. He waved cordially asthe boys went on their way.
"It is a distinct privilege to make such an outstanding contribution toEgyptian culture," Rick said. He was really relieved. Being unfamiliarwith Cairo, they were apt to walk into an unexpected situation thatmight have resulted in loss of the cat. There would be no reason foranyone to suspect the cat's hiding place now, because no one exceptScotty knew that he had carried it out of the hotel.
There was much to see, and the boys took their time, spending over anhour in the section devoted to the relics of Tut-Ankh-Amon, the boyPharaoh who had died at about the age of eighteen. His tomb had beenfound intact, one of the few that had escaped the desert thieves.Priceless objects had been found, including the King's death mask ofpainted gold. It was one of the most beautiful objects of art the boyshad ever seen.
Rick noted that at least one guard was always within easy reach of them,and that several guards patrolled the area. The area itself could befenced off by steel grillwork. He agreed thoroughly with theprecautions. The sheer weight of gold would be worth a Pharaoh's ransom,even if melted down. In their present form, Tut's treasures were beyondprice.
The pangs of hunger finally drove them from the fascinating place, andboth agreed to return with someone who could explain what they wereseeing. They emerged into the brilliant Egyptian sunlight and stoodblinking.
"We'd better head for the hotel on a beeline," Scotty suggested. "Nosense in taking a chance on getting roughed up for nothing."
"That's sense, ol' buddy. Let's go."
They walked down the steps and out a path to the street. An old man witha pushcart was on the path, his cart laden with nuts of some kind. Rickstepped behind Scotty to give the vendor room, but the old man turnedhis cart suddenly and pushed it into them!
The cart upset and nuts cascaded underfoot. The boys struggled forbalance. "Watch it!" Scotty yelled.
Four men bore down on them at top speed, screaming imprecations inArabic. Rick saw the setup instantly. The four would simply beretaliating for the treatment of an old man by two foreigners. He got tohis feet just as the four arrived, and saw that Scotty was crouchedbeside him.
The Sudanese and the big man in the tarboosh dove for the boys like awell-rehearsed wrestling team!
The Egyptian Cat Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 7
