k eyes met his gaze,
and there was no hint of welcome in them.

"Are you Ali Moustafa?" Rick asked.

The man bowed a quarter of an inch. "At your service," he said.

Rick didn't know what to say. Bartouki had described a huge, jolly fat
man, like Santa Claus without a beard. This man was big, but not huge,
not fat, and definitely not jolly.

For a moment Rick hesitated, then asked, "Is there another Ali Moustafa
in the bazaar?"

The black eyes locked with his. "There is no other. I am the only Ali
Moustafa. And you? If you are Mr. Brant from America, I have been
expecting you. Bartouki said you would deliver a package. Is it the one
under your arm perhaps?"

Rick didn't like this at all. Even if the description had been
exaggerated in some respects, this cold conversation was scarcely a
cordial welcome. Yet, the man knew about the cat, and about Bartouki.
Something was wrong. He wanted to deliver the cat as he had promised,
but he had no intention of turning it over to the wrong man.

"I have a package," he returned evenly. "I'm sorry it can't be delivered
now. The man who receives it will have to identify himself without
question as the proper Ali Moustafa."

The man shrugged. "You came to my shop. The sign tells you who I am.
There is no other Ali Moustafa. So, I will accept delivery of the cat,
if you please."

Rick shook his head. "Sorry."

The man spoke in Arabic and took a step forward. Sensing movement behind
him, Rick whirled.

The clerks were moving to block his way!

Rick reacted with lightning speed. He yelled, "Scotty!"

Scotty sensed the urgency of the call and jumped into the doorway.

Rick lifted the Egyptian cat and rifled a pass through the closing ranks
of clerks. Scotty snatched the cat out of the air. Rick followed through
with a battering charge that sent a clerk caroming into a stack of
copper jars. They went down with a clatter. Another clerk reached out
and Rick gave him a straight arm that cleared the way long enough for a
jump to the outside.

"Run!" he yelled.

Hassan had been standing with mouth open, astonished at the proceedings.
Now, as a clerk charged through the door, the dragoman flung himself
sideways in a beautiful body block that sent the clerk back into the
store with a crash. Then the three were rounding the corner at top
speed, pushing through the people in the street.

From behind them came a shouted command in Arabic. A figure in a long,
dirty robe stepped