"Elements of value to a few people," Youssef had said. That might mean only a few people knew what the cat contained. If you didn't know, it was 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 happened to Hassan's car. If it was left on the road and not searched, Scotty or someone from the project would recognize it. Scotty would certainly search the car, and he would find kitty. It was what Rick would do, and he and Scotty thought alike on many things.
Hassan finished his recital of a trip to the Valley of the Kings with his American employers and Rick took advantage of the lull to borrow a match. 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 mysterious disappearance had been. If Scotty had the cat, had he delivered it? Rick thought not. Scotty would keep the cat, for bargaining purposes.
He found himself yawning. "Hassan, when do you think Youssef will come back?"
"If he wants us alive and able to talk, maybe day after tomorrow. If not--_la samah Allah!_--maybe longer."
"What's _la samah Allah_?" Rick stumbled over the pronunciation.
He shifted position. "We'd better get some sleep. Should we go into the crypt or stay out here?"
The crypt was only a cubic chamber of rough stone, partly filled with drifting sand. Desert winds had been alternately covering and uncovering it 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 last long."
"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 on one arm. He covered up as much as possible with the short coat, squirmed until 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 two prone figures and sang his vast displeasure to the moon. From faraway a friend or relative joined in the serenade. It was the last thing Rick heard.