The Egyptian Cat Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

by Harold L. Goodwin

  CHAPTER XVI

  The Howling Jackals

  Tourists travel thousands of miles to see the full moon rise over theSahara Desert. It is a sight of lonely, majestic grandeur. The rollingcontours of sand and rock assume weird, lovely patterns, and even thedesert wind is hushed. It is at such times, men say, that the spirits ofthe ancient Egyptian gods, Amon-Re, Horus, Thoth, Isis, Osiris, Bubaste,and the others again walk on earth.

  Rick Brant could appreciate the scene, but he was in no mood for it. Heclutched his coat around him more tightly to keep out the penetratingdesert chill. From behind a nearby dune he heard the rising, yappinghowl of a jackal, one of earth's loneliest sounds.

  Anubis, Egyptian god of death, had the head of a jackal, he recalled. Hetried to wet his lips. He was terribly thirsty.

  Hassan had been stretched out on the sand. He rose to a sitting positionand gestured toward the dune that shielded the jackal from sight. "Henoisy."

  Rick nodded. "Do jackals always bark at night?"

  "Always. It is their kismet."

  Their fate, Rick thought. Born to bark at the empty desert. He wonderedif the little doglike animals enjoyed it. "Do they always bark atnothing?"

  "No. Sometimes they bark at people. Like now. He bark at us."

  Rick grinned feebly. "He doesn't like us using his desert. Well, I'd behappy to give it back to him."

  The dragoman nodded. "Also. You know, when our people want to say timego by ... how you say? ... life goes on and no man can stop time or makemuch change in things, they speak of the jackal."

  Rick looked at the guide with interest. He had been glad all through thelong hours of Hassan's presence. The Sudanese had turned out to be anentertaining and thought-provoking companion. "Is it a saying of somekind?" he asked.

  Hassan nodded. "The little jackal barks--but the caravan passes."

  Rick repeated the expression thoughtfully. It said a great deal. "I'llremember that, Hassan."

  There was something he had wanted to ask. "May I ask a personalquestion?"

  The guide spread his hands expressively. "You hired a dragoman, but hehas become your friend. Ask what you will."

  "Thank you, Hassan. Scotty and I think of you as a friend, too. I wantedto ask about your English. You've been speaking very good English to meall day, but until we were captured, you spoke sort of broken English."

  Hassan chuckled softly. "It is part of show I put on. My clients talktoo simple English to me most of the time. They don't expect me to knowgood English. So I do not speak as well as I can. Now, with you andScotty, it is different. My broken English is habit, so I continue tospeak it until today. But I knew it would be different with you when wehad coffee together, and when we laughed together. That was when I knewI could leave my show clothes at home and dress in a suit."

  Rick laughed with him. "So that's why you wore fancy stuff only thatfirst day. But, Hassan, if you can't read or write, how did you learnsuch good English?"

  "I am like a parrot," Hassan replied. "I hear, and I repeat. For fouryears I was houseboy to an American family, from USIS, what you call theUnited States Information Service."

  "They taught you English?" Rick prompted.

  "I knew some, but we helped each other. I teached them Arab talk, andthey correct me when I speak American."

  Hassan launched into a recital of his years with the Americans, who hadbeen transferred to India, but still wrote to him now and then. Ricklistened with only part of his mind. For the most, his thoughts wentback over ground he had covered before, since Youssef had dumped the twoof them next to an ancient crypt.

  The big question was, of course, what would happen to them?

  As though in answer, the little jackal appeared silhouetted on top ofthe dune. He lifted his head to the full moon, and his voice rose in aprolonged, yapping howl. Then, as suddenly, he was gone again.

  Rick gave an involuntary shiver. By the time Youssef returned, he wouldbe in bad shape from thirst. He wondered how long he could hold out, andin the same instant wondered why he should. There was some real valueattached to the cat. It was not manufacturing rights or sales, and itwas not revenge. He was sure of that.

  Youssef had said that he had no sentimental attachment to the cat. Hehad also said he disliked unnecessary violence. Rick wondered what thethief considered "unnecessary."

  What else could he recall of Youssef's talk? He had said that the catwas not important, that it had elements of value to some people, andthat he never lied. If one took his words at face value and believedhim, then the cat itself was not important. What did that leave? Rickcould see only one thing: that it was important only because it_contained_ something. Youssef's words simply reinforced the conclusionhe and Scotty already had reached.

  "Elements of value to a few people," Youssef had said. That might meanonly a few people knew what the cat contained. If you didn't know, itwas only a plastic cat. If you did know what it contained ... well,Youssef knew, and he wanted the cat badly enough to risk a kidnaping.

  Rick wondered where the cat was now. He had no idea of what had happenedto Hassan's car. If it was left on the road and not searched, Scotty orsomeone from the project would recognize it. Scotty would certainlysearch the car, and he would find kitty. It was what Rick would do, andhe and Scotty thought alike on many things.

  Hassan finished his recital of a trip to the Valley of the Kings withhis American employers and Rick took advantage of the lull to borrow amatch. He lighted it and looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight.

  Had Scotty met Kemel Moustafa at seven? Rick thought he probably had,and wondered what Third Brother's reaction to his mysteriousdisappearance had been. If Scotty had the cat, had he delivered it? Rickthought not. Scotty would keep the cat, for bargaining purposes.

  He found himself yawning. "Hassan, when do you think Youssef will comeback?"

  "If he wants us alive and able to talk, maybe day after tomorrow. Ifnot--_la samah Allah!_--maybe longer."

  "What's _la samah Allah_?" Rick stumbled over the pronunciation.

  "God forbid," Hassan said grimly.

  "Amen," Rick echoed.

  He shifted position. "We'd better get some sleep. Should we go into thecrypt or stay out here?"

  The crypt was only a cubic chamber of rough stone, partly filled withdrifting sand. Desert winds had been alternately covering and uncoveringit for centuries.

  "Stay out here until morning. Then we go in out of sun, like today.Youssef good to us. With no shelter from the sun, we would not lastlong."

  "He's a fine fellow," Rick said without heat. "Good night, Hassan."

  "_Leltak s'aeeda_, Rick. Good night to you."

  The boy curled up in a ball, knees tucked into stomach, head resting onone arm. He covered up as much as possible with the short coat, squirmeduntil he had a depression for his hip in the sand, and closed his eyes.

  On the nearby dune the little jackal peeked over the top at the twoprone figures and sang his vast displeasure to the moon. From faraway afriend or relative joined in the serenade. It was the last thing Rickheard.

  * * * * *

  Hassan shook him. "Rick! Awaken, please! Camels coming."

  Rick came back to reality from a dream of emptiness and loneliness in adarkened desert. The moon had set and false dawn was burning on the farhorizon. He shook his head blearily. "What? Who's coming?"

  "Not know. I woke and saw camels on the sky."

  "In the east?"

  "Yes. Against sky."

  Rick shivered in the biting chill of early morning. He doubted that anylegitimate travelers came this way. Youssef would not have left themnear a caravan route. He could only guess that the thief himself wascoming back, and he grew colder at the thought. Perhaps Youssef haddecided not to wait to soften Rick up. On the other hand, there was aremote possibility he had the cat. If he was a thief with honor, hemight simply be coming to take them back.

  The idea seemed unlikely. Scotty wouldn't give up the
cat, except inexchange for the two of them. If Youssef had found it himself, it washours ago. He wouldn't have waited to search Hassan's car, if he hadever intended to search it.

  An inner voice urged, "Tell him where the cat is. It's not your cat, andthere's no reason to believe that Kemel Moustafa has any more right towhat's inside of it than Youssef has."

  But there was a deep streak of stubbornness in the Brants, which Rickhad inherited. He knew he wouldn't give in until he absolutely had to.When that time came he would tell Youssef the truth, that he had hiddenthe cat in the Egyptian Museum. What he would not say was that the cathad been recovered and that he had left it in Hassan's car.

  False dawn had faded. It was nearly black, except for myriad stars.Hassan lay with his ear to the ground. Rick held perfectly still andwaited.

  Finally Hassan sat up. "Close now," he whispered.

  Rick wondered briefly if they shouldn't put up a fight, but he knew itwould be useless. Youssef had too many men.

  The camels appeared like wraiths from behind the dune, and Rick blinkedtrying to see more clearly.

  There were three, and only one of them carried a rider. He waitedtensely for the rest of the band to appear.

  The camels arrived and Rick whispered urgently, "The rest must bebehind. Jump him and we'll grab the camels and make a run for it."

  Hassan tensed. "Yes. Be ready."

  The camel rider came close, and lifted a hand in greeting. "_Assalamoalaikum. Fil khedma, ya sidi. Ana gay men sidi Moustafa._"

  Rick was tensed to spring, to haul the man from his saddle, when Hassanput a hand on his arm. "Wait. He say greeting, he is at your service,and he come from Mr. Moustafa!"

  Rick watched in unbelieving amazement as the driver forced his groaningcamel to kneel, then immediately commanded the other two to kneel also.When the camel's protests had ceased, Hassan spoke to him rapidly. Theman answered at length.

  "He was with Youssef," Hassan said. "But he is also in the pay of KemelMoustafa. Last night he went to Moustafa and told him about us. Moustafasent him to bring us back."

  Rick hesitated. Could they trust this man? But it was a silly question,because he knew he had no choice. Anything was better than sitting inthe desert and waiting.

  "Ask if he has water, then we'll go with him."

  The man did, a full water bag. They drank sparingly, knowing the dangerof too much water after deprivation. Then the three mounted the camels.Rick held onto the horn in front of him as the mount lurchedprotestingly to its feet, then they were going across the sands to theeast at what seemed incredible speed. Ahead of them, the first flush ofreal dawn was visible.

  * * * * *

  The sun was high before they came within sight of the first man-madeobjects in the desert. Rick saw pyramids, but not those of Giza. Hecalled to Hassan, who was riding his swaying mount like a veteran.

  "What pyramids are those, Hassan?"

  "Sakkarah," the dragoman replied. "We come back long way around."

  To the east, then the south, Rick thought. He was by no means sure ofwhat would be waiting, but at least he knew where he was. Sakkarah, a"must" for tourists, Bartouki had said. Well, he was getting there, eventhough he had taken the hard way.

  On the road near Sakkarah a car was waiting, and in it was KemelMoustafa. The cameleer made the mounts kneel. Rick and Hassan got off,and the man with the camels hurried away without a word. The two walkedup to the car.

  "Thank you for rescuing us," Rick said politely.

  Moustafa had not spoken. Now he tugged at his mustache and nodded."Whether it was worth while remains to be seen. According to my man,Youssef did not get the cat. This is correct?"

  "Yes. Did you see my friend last night?"

  "I did. Precisely at seven. He informed me that you were missing. Then,sometime later, my man managed to leave Youssef's gang and report in. Iat once made plans for your rescue. Now tell me. Where is the cat?"

  Rick was very, very tired of the Egyptian cat. He thought grimly thatwhen he returned home he and his sister would have a long talk aboutvolunteering services for strangers.

  "The cat is under the back cushion of Hassan's car," he said tiredly."And the sooner you take it off my hands, the better."

  "Hassan's car is at the hotel," Moustafa said. "Come. We will go thereat once."

  Rick and Hassan climbed into the car and Moustafa raced the motor. Hemeshed gears and spun his wheels as he got off to a fast start.

  He's certainly in a hurry to get that cat, Rick thought. Well, he wasthe legitimate receiver. Only it was too bad to let the animal gowithout ever knowing what it contained.

  No matter, Rick thought, as the desert road sped underneath. No matternow. In a few minutes it will be finished.