"But why do you want it?" Rick asked. He couldn't help asking, even though this obviously was not the time for friendly banter.
"I want it. That is enough. Will you give it to me?"
"I can't," Rick explained. "It must be turned over to Moustafa." He didn't say which Moustafa.
The thief sighed. "Then I was right. You are stubborn. Well, stubbornness is like starch. It does not last. In this case, we will let the desert and thirst take the starch out of you. After a few days here you will beg me to take the cat. But it is all so foolish, and so unnecessary! Why not be reasonable?"
Rick looked around at the endless, shimmering dunes of the Sahara, and he wanted desperately to be reasonable. He couldn't. "Sorry," he said.
"Very well. On your head be it." Youssef called in Arabic and two men lifted down a huge bundle from one of the camels. They unwrapped it, and Hassan swayed and blinked in the glaring sun.
"You shall have company," Youssef stated. He gestured at the surrounding wastes. "We leave you to do what you wish. You might even try to walk to civilization. I will leave no guard. However, I do not recommend it, because when I return it might not be possible to find you in time if you should leave here. When I come back I will have writing materials and you will send a note to your friend Scott, telling him to give me the cat. When I have the cat, I will see that your friends are told how to find you."
The thief swung to a kneeling camel, and his men followed suit. A command and the camels rose, mouthing their complaints. Youssef waved, and the caravan raced away with long, smooth strides across the desert.
Rick turned to Hassan. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
The dragoman put a hand to his head. "Hurts like fire, but I okay. You?"