The Egyptian Cat Mystery by Harold Leland Goodwin (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📕

At the passage entrance was a man in Western dress, an Egyptian with a bristling mustache and a tremendous nose. He was obviously a person of authority, and the authority was made plain by the Luger automatic pistol he held in his hand.

The Arabs crowded together, hands high. Then, at another sharply spoken Arabic phrase, they all lay face down on the floor, arms stretched out before them.

At that moment the newcomer's eyes caught sight of the broken kitten on the stone floor. He stiffened, and he took a step toward it. Then he reconsidered.

"Mr. Brant, or Mr. Scott," he commanded. "One of you only. Bring me the pieces of the cat!"

Rick was nearest to the broken kitten. He went over and picked up three large pieces. There were a few smaller ones, but he didn't think they would matter. He walked over and held the pieces out.

The man with the pistol took one and examined it. Rick noted that it was the biggest piece, actually over half the cat.

Suddenly the man smiled. It was a fine, happy smile that showed white teeth under his black mustache.

"A fine specimen," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"It just sort of came to us," Rick evaded.

"Indeed? A pity it was broken. Do you want the pieces?"

This surprised Rick. He stared into the smiling brown eyes. "No. Don't you?"

"I have a definite interest in cats, but not in this one. Come, shall we go to the outside? I think you have probably had enough of Khufu's tomb by this time, eh?"

The pistol motioned to the outstretched Arabs. "This carrion will not bother us. I told them the first man to step outside the pyramid before an hour has elapsed would be shot."

To Rick's astonishment the man tucked the pistol into a capacious jacket pocket, then turned and walked toward the outer entrance. Rick, Scotty, and Hassan followed.

In a few moments they stood blinking in the sunlight. Their rescuer gave them a polite bow. "You are probably wondering who I am, and how I appeared so opportunely, eh? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kemel Moustafa."

The brother of Ali and Fuad! Rick remembered the words of the hotel intruder who had taken the first kitten: The Moustafas were known for the largest mustaches and noses in the United Arab Republic. Well, the description fitted.

"I'm Rick Brant," he said. "This is Don Scott, and our guide, Hassan."

Kemel Moustafa shook hands all around. "I am thirsty," he announced. "We will exchange stories over coffee, eh? The Mena House is close by, and I have a car."

"So do we," Rick said. "We came in Hassan's car."

"Then let us drive down in our separate cars and meet there. We have much to talk over."

That was an understatement, Rick thought. He wondered as Hassan drove them to the hotel below the pyramids: had the business in the pyramid been staged so Kemel could come to the rescue? If not, that meant two different groups were interested in the cat.

The way Kemel Moustafa had looked at the broken kitten was revealing, too. One glance and he had rejected it. How had he known? He put the question aloud to Scotty.

"Maybe it didn't break like plastic," Scotty guessed. "Or, it's possible the original is unbreakable."

Rick didn't think either of those answers could be the right one. "Could there be something inside the cat? Kernel would have seen right away that the broken one was solid."

"There's a hunk of lead in the cat, according to Bartouki. But suppose you're right, and it isn't lead? What could be valuable enough to cause all these wild goings-on?"

"Diamonds. Rubies. Maybe a radium needle in a lead shield. The possibilities are endless."

"Uhuh. Only one thing bothers me a little. Why use a plastic cat as a container to smuggle things into Egypt? There must be better ways."

"This way hasn't been very successful," Rick agreed. "Anyway, here's the hotel. Let's ask Kemel Moustafa."

Over coffee, Rick asked the third Moustafa brother many questions, and received answers to most of them—although the answers were not always satisfactory.

Moustafa anticipated some of the questions. As the waiter brought coffee, he pulled out his wallet and showed the boys his identity card, driver's license, and business card. Clearly, he was Kemel Moustafa.

"I have been to Khartoum on business," he said. "Last night I returned to the city and found that a family emergency had taken both of my brothers out of town. Fuad left very suddenly, after he had written to you. I apologize on his behalf. However, he must be excused, since a call from Ali, in Beirut, sent him running to the airport to catch the next flight. He simply had no time even to call you. His secretary tried to call you today, without success."

"We wondered," Rick said.

"Of course. And you are also wondering how I came into the pyramid at just the right time. A fortunate accident. You see, I came to Sahara Wells hoping to see you, but you were sightseeing. Dr. Winston was kind enough to tell me where you were. I simply went hunting for you. A quick drive around the area told me you must be in one of the pyramids, and the biggest one seemed the most logical place to look for you."

Rick believed him. Moustafa wouldn't tell a tale that a moment's talk with Winston would disprove.

"Who was the man who pretended to be your brother Ali?" Scotty asked.

"His chief clerk. He is an arrogant type who often shows poor judgment. Instead of simply explaining to you that Ali was out of town, he apparently told you he was Ali. This was the case?"

Rick confirmed it.

"He will be discharged at once. I suspected it when I questioned him last night. He gave some lame excuse about your refusing to hand over the cat to anyone except my brother Ali. He told Fuad the same thing, according to his secretary."

"It wasn't such a lame excuse, Mr. Moustafa," Rick corrected. "Mr. Bartouki asked us to deliver the cat to Ali Moustafa. We have no instructions to deliver it to anyone else."

"I see. And I commend your discretion. But my brother Ali will not return for many weeks, and you will not want to take the cat back to America with you. So we will telephone Mohammed Bartouki, and you will hear directly from him that I am a suitable substitute for my brother."

Scotty asked bluntly, "Why is the cat so important?"

Moustafa spread his hands wide. "Why not? The creature will open a new industry in Cairo. It will employ a number of people. It will make a profit for the Moustafa-Bartouki enterprises. It will please the tourists. Obviously the cat is important."

Rick tossed in his loaded question. "How did you know the cat in the pyramid wasn't the cat we brought from America?"

Kernel Moustafa's thick eyebrows went up. "It was obvious, was it not? The broken cat was made of colored concrete. The cat Bartouki took such pains to develop was of a plastic that does not have the graininess of concrete. If you tell me the one in the pyramid was indeed the original, I will be very disappointed. Such a model would not be suitable."

"It wasn't," Rick said briefly.

"Ah. And where is the original?"

Rick's smile was every bit as warm and friendly as Kemel Moustafa's. "Perhaps the answer to that had better wait until we have talked to Bartouki."

The Egyptian's smile broadened. "Discretion in one so young," he proclaimed, "is a rare and precious thing." He put money on the table for their coffee and rose.

"You will excuse me? I have business in the city. But tonight at seven I will come to your hotel and we will phone our friend in New York. It will then be noon in New York, and we will find him reading the Koran at home. This is his custom. Until then, Assalamo alaikum, which is to say, 'Good day to you.'"

As the boys walked to where Hassan waited, Scotty grinned at Rick. "'Discretion in one so young,'" he quoted, "'is a rare and precious thing.' He should know you as I do. Discretion has nothing to do with it. You just don't want to part with that cat until you know everything there is to know about it."

Rick shrugged. "I haven't heard you volunteering to hand the poor creature over. Besides, our pal Kemel is not all that he seems."

"And how do you know?"

"Easy. Did he ask us who jumped us in the pyramid, or why? Did he explain why he carries a Luger? Nope, to both. He carries a Luger because there's danger in this business. And he knows why those Arabs jumped us. He may not know them by name, but he knows what they were after, and he knows why."

"Which is more than we know," Scotty concluded.

"For now," Rick agreed. "But we'll find out before we're through, one way or another!"

Rick opened the door to a knock at precisely two minutes of seven, and admitted Kernel Moustafa. The Egyptian shook hands politely. "It takes some time to get a call through," he said, "so I placed our