A headdress was thrust around the frame and Scotty squeezed off a quick shot. The hammer clicked harmlessly. He was out of ammunition! He threw the pistol and the head vanished.
Both boys got to their feet and crouched to rush any newcomers. They whirled at the tinkle of broken glass behind them.
Youssef stood in the window, a Sten gun trained on them. Rick looked at the deadly little submachine gun and gulped. He remembered what Ben had said about removing the evidence.
The thief said, "Put both hands on top of your heads."
The boys did so, with no hesitation. In spite of Youssef's apparently casual manner, both knew he would not hesitate to shoot. He raised his voice and shouted in Arabic. The boys stiffened as footsteps sounded behind them and gun muzzles were thrust into their backs. Youssef vanished from the window and reappeared in a moment through the door.
"You're a difficult young man," he told Rick. "But the time for being difficult is over. I want the cat, now."
"I left it in Hassan's car," Rick said, with pretended hopelessness.
Youssef spoke in Arabic. The pressure of the gun muzzle left Rick's back. He felt a cord being slipped around his forehead, a cord with hard knots that fell across his temples.
"What you feel is a strangler's cord," the thief said grimly. "Don't be a fool. The cat means nothing to you; you were merely a messenger boy. Give me the cat and you will be left alone."
"Not until the evidence is destroyed," Rick thought. "Not until we're dead."