The Mystery of Munroe Island

by Satyajit Ray

28 October

  I just received the most exciting news in Fielding’s latest letter.

  The signal from the galaxy is now distinct and clear and consists more than prime numbers alone.

  Fielding is convinced that the planet where the signal is coming from is the same one mentioned in the papyrus. Judging by the frequency in which the signals are now appearing, it is obvious that the living beings from this unknown planet are delighted at establishing contact with the earth.

  Like Fielding, I, too, can feel the same excitement running through my veins. But I still wish we could have seen the missing end portion of the papyrus. I’m positive that the missing part will provide information of when and where this alien is to appear on the earth. Yesterday night, I was sitting on a deckchair with my cat, Newton, on my lap, my eyes fixed on the sky. Generally meteor showers are more frequent in October compared to other times of the year; yesterday I witnessed seventeen meteor falls in only ninety minutes and each time the thought of the papyrus crossed my mind.

  30 October

  An urgent telegram from Fielding—‘Come immediately to Cairo—a room has already been booked in your name in Hotel Karnak.’

  I let them know that I’ll be arriving on 3 November.

  But why do I have to visit Cairo?

  God alone knows.

  4 November

  I reached yesterday though the flight was delayed by three hours. I knew that on arrival at the airport I would see both Fielding and Crole but I hadn’t anticipated the presence of a third person. It was Brian Dexter. The moment I spotted Brian I could see the strong effect of the Indian sun on his skin; he was a burnished copper! Apparently while at Kalibangan, Brian had received the news of Morgenstern’s death. He promptly returned to London for more details, details that disturbed him, though he insists he doesn’t believe in any form of curses. He feels that sunstroke or some kind of related sickness in Morgenstern made his mind go awry. During the excavation of the Beni Hasan tomb, Brian had noticed that Morgenstern could barely stand the heat of the sun.

  I asked Dexter, ‘Was Morgenstern genuinely interested in archaeology?’ Brian said, ‘Excess of money often fuels various passions. In addition to this, Morgenstern also had a weakness for fame. Amassing wealth is not enough to carve a decent reputation in America these days. Everyone wants to leave a mark of achievement. Perhaps Morgenstern wanted to earn an enviable reputation by financing this archaeological excavation.’

  I wanted to ask a few more questions but Fielding suggested that we continue our discussion after reaching the hotel.

  After lunch we went to the first-floor veranda of the hotel for coffee. The scene in front of us was a picture of beauty—a blue stream was flowing by; various boats were moored on the jetty; people from all over the world could be seen gathered nearby. Brian produced a big envelope from his camera bag and handed it over to me. ‘Just see if this stuff is familiar to you.’

  It turned out to be a photograph of the papyrus.

  ‘I had taken a photo of this the minute I got the document,’ said Brian. ‘Can you spot any difference from the document you had seen in London?’

  Indeed there was! The moment I held this document I had noticed the difference. This was the image of a complete papyrus, with the bottom end intact.

  Brian explained: ‘The condition of the papyrus was very fragile. This rolled-up document had been lying in one corner of the mausoleum for the last 5000 years. I was the first one to obtain it. The moment I got it, I unrolled it, laid it out on the floor, placed heavy stones on all four corners and clicked a few photographs using a flashlight. Morgenstern appropriated it the instant he saw it. I told him to handle it very gently. Though he said yes to my request I could feel that he had no knowledge of the document’s true value. He initially went to Thorneycroft. After Thorneycroft deciphered the script, Morgenstern contacted the curator of the Cairo Museum, Mr Abrahim. I remember that it had been a stormy day. Enveloped by a sandstorm the city had become dark. I think the lower portion of the papyrus somehow went missing at that point.’

  ‘Well, Shonku?’

  Until now Crole had kept quiet. Yet from the very moment I met him I had noticed a concealed excitement in him. Crole is well adept at hieroglyphics and I could easily gather that he had already decoded the lower part of the document and hence this excitement.

  I said, ‘In this portion I can see the mention of the astrologer Menefru. Furthermore, about the visitors from the other planet—when and where they’ll arrive are also mentioned here.’

  Fielding said, ‘That’s precisely why I asked for you. The new moon is to appear in two days’ time. If that astrologer has not made any mistake in his calculations of the year and date—’

  I interrupted and said, ‘The mention of a comet in this instance makes everything amply clear. If Halley’s Comet appears every seventy-six years then it must have appeared exactly 5000 years ago, during 3022 BCE.’

  Crole agreed. He sounded greatly excited. ‘My calculation also tallies with yours. The papyrus scroll revealed that the astrologer too had talked of a comet when he had met the Wiseman from the other planet. It is possible it was 3022 chiefly because then Egypt was under the rule of Menes, perceived as the beginning of Egyptian Golden Era. Everything’s fallen into place, Shonku!’

  Dexter said, ‘But can one completely rely on this? Can’t this shift by a year or two?’

  Taking a long drag of his cheroot, Fielding said, ‘I feel there’s no mistake in this because the day before I arrived here I received a signal from Epsilon Indi. It indicated that during the next new moon their agent will arrive on earth and the exact location of this visit is about 200 kilometres towards the west of here.’

  ‘Which means in the desert?’ asked Dexter.

  ‘Isn’t that natural?’

  ‘But in which language did you receive this code?’ I inquired.

  ‘In the telegraphic code,’ said Fielding. ‘Morse.’

  ‘That means they have maintained a connection with earth over the last 5000 years?’

  ‘That’s not very surprising, Shonku. Remember, their civilization is far more advanced than ours.’

  ‘In that case they may also know English.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible. But it wasn’t possible for them to know whether I was an Englishman; hence they used the Morse code.’

  ‘In that case where’s the location?’ I asked. ‘After all, they won’t come and meet us in this hotel.’

  Fielding smiled and said, ‘Of course not. We need to go to Baoyiti—it’s 230 kilometres in the south-west direction. There is a road but it cannot be described as a highway. But that shouldn’t pose any problem. You have already seen Crole’s car.’

  Yes, indeed I’ve seen the car. I had travelled from the airport to this hotel in his car. It’s a strange car—almost a mobile hotel. It is also quite sturdy. Crole has coined the term Automotel for his car.

  ‘Dr Thorneycroft is arriving tomorrow morning,’ said Fielding. ‘He too will join our group.’

  I had no knowledge of this. But the eagerness on Thorneycroft’s side is justified. After all, it was he who had decoded the papyrus.

  ‘I hope you’re carrying your Annihilin with you?’ asked Crole.

  I assured him that on expeditions like this, I always carry the gun on me. They’re all familiar with this amazing pistol that I had invented. However big or powerful a creature, if you aim the gun at him and pull the trigger it will immediately disappear. In total, I have had to use this weapon about ten times when faced with acute danger. Judging by the descriptions of these aliens from the unknown planet in the papyrus, they don’t seem to be violent in nature. But as we are clueless about the mission of this present group, where’s the harm in a bit of self-defence?

  The four of us made a pact that apart from us not a soul was to know about the forthcoming expedition.

  When we got up and started moving towards our own rooms, we came across the hotel manager, Mr Nah
um, walking towards us. I must mention that it was from this very Karnak Hotel that Mr Morgenstern had disappeared. Mr Nahum informed us that there had been no further news of Mr Morgenstern. Hence, one had to assume that Mr Morgenstern had gone out of the city and committed suicide by jumping into the river Nile.

  ‘I hope no more vultures have been seen since then at the window?’ Crole asked with a smirk.

  If the gesture of biting one’s tongue as an act of abashment had been in vogue in the Egyptian culture, Mr Nahum would have surely done that. But instead he stepped close to us and whispered, ‘I’ve never heard of anyone at all noticing any vultures in and around our hotel. But I can’t promise that you won’t see any cats or dogs! Ha ha.’

  We decided to set out immediately after lunch. We have no idea of what the future holds, but I am really happy to be in Egypt. If you sit quietly for a couple of minutes, the surroundings of the contemporary Egypt fades away, replacing it with ancient Egypt. Added to that is the thrill that aliens from an unknown planet will arrive in the land of Imhotep, Akhenaten, Khufu and Tutankhamen. The very idea is so enchanting.

  5 November, 10 a.m.

  Two incidents within a gap of a few hours have perturbed us quite a bit. We still haven’t got over the shock.

  I had decided that I would get up at five in the morning and take a walk by the Nile. It is my longstanding habit of taking a walk by the river Usri in Giridih every morning. In any case I always wake up by 4.30 a.m. But today I didn’t wake up as a normal course. There was a sudden loud banging on my door.

  In haste I wrapped myself in the purple kimono I had received as a gift in Japan and when I opened the door I found Dexter standing there. His eyes were bulging out, and he was panting as if he had just completed a marathon!

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘A snake—there is a snake in my room!’

  Uttering these words, he stumbled into my room and flopped on to the sofa. I knew Dexter’s room was three rooms away from mine. The other two were staying on the floor above. Hence he had to come to me.

  Having reassured Dexter, I left him and ran into the passage. Not a soul could be spotted on the long carpeted corridor decorated in Egyptian patterns. That’s not unusual as it was 2.30 a.m. I needed to take action right away.

  After taking out the Annihilin pistol from the suitcase I raced towards room number 176. Not that I was fully convinced of what Dexter said. Yet one should be well prepared for any emergency.

  The door of his room was ajar. After entering it I realized that the only difference between my room and his was the painting hanging on the wall.

  When I turned my eyes towards the left I spotted the snake. A cobra. It was climbing down the leg of the bed towards the carpet on the floor, half of its body still resting on the bed. Though not as deadly poisonous as its Indian counterpart, it is indeed venomous. In the ancient times this snake was also worshipped as a goddess in Egypt.

  With the help of my pistol, in absolute silence, I rendered the snake invisible.

  Dexter was still traumatized. For one who had complete scepticism in the curse of Menfru’s angry soul, the appearance of this snake has converted him into a firm believer! My mind was telling me something else; therefore I dissolved a drop of my Nervigour (a tonic invented by me to steady the nervous system) in water and gave it to the troubled young archaeologist and patted his back.

  This did not fully solve the situation. I took him along with me and only when I showed him there were no snakes in the room did he look relieved.

  One would have had a showdown with the manager the next day, but as the snake’s body, which was our evidence, had already been annihilated by me, we avoided pursuing the issue. Since we were anyway to leave the hotel that day, I did not broach the topic.

  The next incident took place in the Hotel’s Pyramid Room during breakfast. Thorneycroft’s plane was to arrive at six in the morning and hence he would reach the hotel by 7.30. At 8.00, when we were at breakfast, the manager himself informed us that Thorneycroft had arrived. He was in an ambulance.

  While coming out of the airport he had fallen and suffered a head injury. Two Swiss tourists, with the help of the police, had called for an ambulance. There’s no doubt that this was a case of a mugging. His wallet containing 300 pounds was missing.

  Fortunately the injury was not very serious. One was afraid that he would have to be dropped from our trip but Thorneycroft paid no heed to such a thought. He said he had been expecting something like this. ‘I know your cogent mind will not agree to such notions but I fully believe in curses. If you knew ancient Egypt as much as I do, then you too would agree with me.’

  5 November, 2.45 p.m.

  We will set off in half an hour. In the meantime, another event has taken place and I’ll note it down now.

  Fifteen minutes ago, Mr Nahum showed me a peculiar thing.

  It’s a small pocket diary. It’s obvious that the diary had got soaked in water. Whatever was written inside has all been washed away; even the printed matter could hardly be read. No doubt remains, however, about the owner of the diary. Attached to a page with a gem clip was a photograph. Despite being discoloured, there was no trouble identifying that person. It was Morgenstern’s wife, Miriam. The police had traced it eleven kilometres from Cairo inside a fisherman’s hut near the banks of the Nile. The seven-year-old child of a fisherman had found it stuck in mud near the river.

  Though Morgenstern’s act of suicide was a very irresponsible one, I couldn’t help but feel rather compassionate towards him.

  There’s a knock on my door. This must be Fielding telling us to step out for our rendezvous with the aliens!

  5 November, 6.30 p.m.

  On our way to Baoyiti, eighty-three kilometres from the south of Cairo, we stopped at a roadside cafe at Al Fayyum for coffee and walnuts.

  Thorneycroft is much better now. Dexter looks grim. One has to keep a strict eye on him and he has been told not to go anywhere without us. Crole is cleaning out different parts of his camera. He has three different models of Leica. One of them has a large telephoto lens attached to it. He plans to capture on his camera every incident that will follow, beginning with the arrival of the spaceship. Dexter is openly contemptuous of all those who go ecstatic about ‘Unidentified Flying Objects’. He said, ‘Many images by people have appeared in numerous newspapers and journals but the hoax becomes apparent because each time the flying object is shown in the form of a disc. Is this convincing? Must they always appear in this shape just because the spaceship belongs to another planet?’

  Fielding winked at me and said, ‘Suppose our spaceship too resembles a disc?’

  ‘In that case I’ll drown all of these cameras including all paraphernalia in the waters of the Nile,’ said Crole. ‘I haven’t come to this land of sand and stone looking for a disc.’

  A certain thought had been hovering in my mind for some time; I couldn’t help but discuss it now.

  ‘Has it ever crossed your mind that if we journey back to 5000 years, quite a few interesting facts might turn up? We are all aware that the Golden Age of Egypt started 5000 years ago. If we go back 5000 years in time we see that people had already begun venturing into agriculture and were farming their own produce. Five thousand years before this humans were for the first time shaping bones and ivory into weapons, blades for spears; fish-hooks etc. and at the same time were creating paintings inside caves. Thirty thousand years ago we observed that the shape of the human skull had transformed into what we see today. Many chapters of ancient history are still unclear to us, yet what we observed in this pattern of five . . . isn’t that quite amazing?’

  Everyone agreed with me.

  Crole said, ‘Perhaps they might have a systematic description of the world’s history—right from the arrival of the Homo sapiens to Egypt’s Golden Age.’

  ‘It can be a possibility,’ said Fielding. ‘If they ask what we desire, then I shall ask for that record. After we obtain this, is th
ere a need for anything else?’

  Having paid for the coffee and walnuts we left.

  Today is a new moon day.

  For the rest of our journey we need to look up at the sky.

  6 November, 6.30 p.m.

  I call myself a scientist as I have a decent flair for various disciplines of science, but I have never claimed to be a specialist in any field. The other four members of this group belong to specialized areas, though they are not equal in age, experience, calibre or reputation. But the fact remains that between Fielding, Crole, Thorneycroft, Dexter and myself right now, no difference can be distinguished. Compared to the Arctic Ocean, is there much of a difference between a local pond or the Ganges?

  I’m now trying to recount coherently the series of incidents which took place yesterday.

  After coming out of the café at Al Fayyum, we set off in the car, driving through the rocky desert for ten minutes when a horrible event took place. But before I talk about that I must describe in detail the interior design of Crole’s ‘Automotel’.

  In the front of the car, two people can sit next to the driver. Right behind the front seat is a narrow passage. One side comprises a bathroom and a storeroom and on the other is a kitchen and a pantry. After you come out of the passage there are bunks on both sides—upper and lower. If there’s an additional passenger he can easily fix up a bed in between the bunks.

  Crole was driving the car and I was sitting next to him. Behind us on the lower bunks were Thorneycroft on one and Fielding and Dexter on the other.

  We started our journey at 6.45 p.m. There was still some light in the sky at that time. Both sides of the road were lined by sand and stones. Though the area was more or less flat, occasionally we noticed limestone hills or a group of hillocks, some of which were quite high.

  All this while, I kept remembering the face of our hotel manager, Mr Nahum, and something began to bother me. His behaviour was far too smooth to be natural; it was as if he were part of some intrigue.