and a half-salute of
welcome.

"Friendly people," Scotty agreed. "How far, Hassan?"

"Two streets. Soon."

The dragoman turned a corner, led them straight ahead for a few hundred
steps, then turned a second corner. He pointed. Diagonally across the
alley was a large store with display windows. A sign over the door
carried the name ALI MOUSTAFA surrounded by Arabic script.

"We'll get rid of the cat, then do some shopping," Rick said. "I'm
anxious for a closer look at some of these shops. How about you?"

"Ali Moustafa's seems pretty good to me," Scotty replied. "Look at that
stuff." He pointed to leather goods displayed in one window. "It's
beautiful. Go on in and deliver kitty while I see what some of these
things are."

"I tell you," Hassan offered. "Then I help bargain so prices be low. No
bargain, prices too high."

Rick walked in through the open door, his eyes taking in the amazing
collection of stuff sold by Ali Moustafa. The store was a big one,
especially compared with most in the bazaar, and there were several
clerks. The walls were lined with shelves that held copperware,
brassware, silver, and inlaid boxes. He saw rolls of tapestries,
collections of brass camels and donkeys, and glassed-in cases of
jewelry. Crowding the floor space were huge vases of brass or pottery,
camel saddles, metal trays on low stands, and huge leather hassocks.

The clerks eyed him with interest, then all eyes focused on the package
under his arm. For a moment Rick felt a current of tension run through
the store, but he dismissed it as imagination. He walked toward the rear
counter, trying to identify Ali Moustafa, but none of the clerks fitted
the description Bartouki had given.

He addressed his question to the clerk behind the rearmost counter. "Is
Mr. Moustafa here?"

The clerk's dark eyes flickered, and his face became expressionless.
"Please to be seated. I will get him."

The clerk vanished through a curtained door at the rear of the store,
and Rick turned. He was sensitive to impressions, and he was again
conscious of the tension. As he turned he saw that all the clerks were
watching him, their faces impassive. His eyes went to the front of the
store. Scotty was with Hassan in the doorway, discussing some object in
the display window.

A voice spoke from behind him. "You wish to see me?"

Rick turned. The newcomer was a tall, well-built Egyptian with glossy
black hair and a military mustache. Unblinking blac