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Rick was glad of the break. His mind hadn't been on the job, anyway it had been on the Egyptian cat. For perhaps the hundredth time he asked, "Why is the cat valuable? Why would anyone want it enough to stage that scene at El Mouski and then ransack our room?"
Scotty had no answers, but he had some questions of his own. "What I want to know is, did the hall porter just happen to step out at the right moment for the thief? Or is he in the act somehow?"
"It really doesn't make much difference," Rick pointed out. "He might have been paid to take a walk, but that doesn't mean he knows anything."
"Okay. Try this one. Where is the real Ali Moustafa?"
"Good question. Now I'll ask one. What do we do next?"
"You could cable Bartouki, or even phone him," Scotty replied. "You said you had thought about it."
Rick hesitated. He tried to put his reluctance into words. "I just don't think getting in touch with Bartouki is the right thing to do. I don't know why. Call it a hunch."
Scotty had a deep respect for Rick's hunches. They had a way of turning out to be right. He remembered a description of a hunch Rick had once used and repeated it. "A hunch is only a conscious conclusion based on subconscious data you don't know you have. Isn't that about it?"
Rick looked at him. "What are you driving at?"
"What data are buried in your subconscious that make you distrust Bartouki?"
"I didn't say I mistrusted him."
Scotty shrugged. "No, but you must, if you don't think it's right to call him."
Rick had to admit Scotty was probably right. What basis did he have for mistrusting the charming little Egyptian merchant? Certainly Bartouki had been nice to them, so carrying the cat to Egypt had been only common courtesy.
Experience had shown Rick that very often he could get ideas from reviewing conversations. He walked away from Hassan and Scotty and stared at the construction details of the antenna. But he wasn't really looking. Instead, he was trying to recall the entire scene leading up to his acceptance of the cat.
Bartouki had explained its importance. He had said it was needed. Now, what had led Barby to offer Rick's services as a messenger? The merchant had said that he was anxious to get it to Egypt, but that the Christmas mails were crowded. The Christmas mails that didn't seem like much of a reason for not sending it by air freight.
Bartouki could have delivered it personally to Idlewild Terminal, to avoid getting it mixed up with the domestic mail
"I've got it!" he yelled. He hurried over and stood in front of Scotty and Hassan. "Listen, who sends mail at Christmas time?"
Scotty's brows wrinkled. "Everyone, I guess."
"Not everyone." Rick warmed to his idea. "There are plenty of people who wait until the last few days before Christmas, but where are they? In America! Anyone overseas who sends a package home tries to get it in the mail early. Wouldn't you say so?"
"Maybe they should, but I suspect they don't. People are always waiting until the last moment."
"But is the overseas airmail so crowded you wouldn't trust a parcel to the regular mail system?"
Scotty shook his head. "I doubt it. What are you getting at?"
But Rick had an even better argument to bolster the case he was developing. "Christmas mail is to and from Christians, isn't it? Sure! Egypt is a Moslem country. Moslems don't send Christmas cards or presents, and they don't get them, either. The Christians in Egypt are Coptic anyway, they don't celebrate Christmas the same way. So why would the airmail to Egypt be jammed?"
Hassan spoke up. "It not so heavy. My brother is letter carrier, and he no work very hard on Nasrani holiday. Nasrani is what we call Christian."
"I think you've got something," Scotty agreed. "Bartouki could have mailed the cat, but for some reason he wanted a messenger "
" and we walked right into it," Rick finished. "Chances are that's why he showed us the cat in the first place."
"Barby had the bright idea," Scotty reminded. "Bartouki wasn't the one who suggested it."
"He didn't have to," Rick pointed out. "If she hadn't, I'll bet he would have led around to it some other way."
Scotty held up his hands in surrender. "I'll buy it. Bartouki needed a messenger. Why?"
Rick sat down on the box again. Why, indeed? He knew now why he distrusted Bartouki, but he had no idea of the merchant's reasons. He glared at his pal. "Kill-joy. So we get back to the basic question. What does kitty have that people want?"
He took the statue from his pocket and examined it closely, as he had done several times before. The bright sunlight disclosed nothing but a perfect bit of casting. He took out the pocket lens he carried for examination of specimens that might be useful in his hobby of microscopy, but magnification showed him nothing. It was a flawless job.
"I'm stumped," he admitted. "Come on. Let's stretch our legs before we get called back in to go to work."
Scotty and Hassan joined him as he walked toward the barracks where cement was being poured to form the floor. Scotty borrowed the cat for a quick look, then handed it back. Rick stowed it in his pocket.