The Mystery of Munroe Island Read online

  ‘Doesn’t this require any ceremony or incantations?’

  Crole pulled at his pipe, released the smoke and said, ‘There’s one such thing required—when a spirit has to be be called upon—a day before the work starts.’

  ‘Whose spirit?’

  ‘The spirit of the world-famous Arabian alchemist, Jabir ibn Hayyan. You must have heard about this renowned person who lived in the tenth century. It’s nothing much—only to seek his blessings. That’s all. This invocation won’t be a problem with me around.’

  I knew that Crole was a chairperson of a Planchette Committee based in Munich.

  Crole turned to look towards the door. Following his gaze I noticed Saunders’s Persian cat, Mustafa. ‘We also need him.’

  ‘What do you mean by “him”?’ Saunders asked, raising his voice. Saunders is crazy about cats—almost like me. Three years ago during his visit to my house in Giridih, he had tied a red silk ribbon round the neck of my pet cat, Newton.

  Crole said, ‘Saavedra has given clear directions regarding the role of a cat. In the research room the presence of a cat will unfailingly help us to accomplish our task. Or else an owl can replace him. But I feel, as we already have a cat with us then he is better than an owl.’

  Both Saunders and I had never directly promised Crole we would accompany him to Spain, though Crole repeatedly told us if we do not take the use of this opportune moment of the Tropic of Cancer, we would have to wait for another year.

  After having our breakfast, the three of us went out to carnival at Hampstead. This is an annual ritual at this time of the year. After glancing at shops, a gambling den, the giant Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round, and walking through milling crowds of young and elderly people, we came across a well-decorated caravan on whose body was written—‘Come and have your fortune told by Madame Renata.’

  The lady herself was peering out from behind a curtained window. With a smile she wished us good morning. Gypsy fortune tellers are often seen in this country—particularly at such fairs. Crole immediately decided to have our fortunes read. Under his insistence the three of us got into the caravan.

  Madam Renata’s caravan was sparsely furnished. On top of a table stood a glass vase with a single rose and next to that was a glass ball—they refer to it as a crystal ball. By concentrating on this crystal for a long time the fortune tellers can apparently see clearly into the future of each of their clients.

  Without any pretence, Crole said, ‘Come on, Madam, please tell us if any significant incident is to appear in the lives of us three friends. We are about to venture together into a project.’

  Renata placed her elbows on the table and concentrated on the crystal. We were sitting in three chairs around the table. We could hear the music of the giant wheel along with the cacophony created by the children out on the fairground. Crole had pushed forward his head towards the ball.

  ‘I see the sun rising,’ Renata whispered in an almost masculine voice. Crole suddenly stopped breathing. There’s no doubt that he has assumed the sun to be gold.

  ‘I see the sun rising for you,’ once more Renata remarked. ‘And—’

  The lady remained quiet. This time my heart began to beat faster as well. In such affairs all elderly people tend to become childlike.

  ‘And what?’ Crole broke in. He was clearly running out of patience. But Madam Renata remained unperturbed. Her hands had covered the ball from both sides—perhaps to shield it from the outside light so that she could see the future scenario more clearly.

  ‘And . . .’ once more that rough, masculine voice said, ‘And I see death. Yes, death.’

  ‘Whose death?’ Crole’s voice quivered. He was again breathing heavily.

  ‘The death of a radiant man.’

  Madam Renata didn’t reveal much beyond this. When asked what this radiant man looked like, she said, ‘His face is a blur.’

  Saunders got up from the chair. The lady had come out of her trance. With a smile she extended her hand. Saunders slipped suitable payment into that hand.

  26 June

  Not giving much thought about what could be arranged in Montefrio, we bought all the paraphernalia needed for our alchemic laboratory from London’s Chor Bazaar or flea market in Portobello Street. After spending two and a half hours there, we had managed to procure clay pots, a glass flask, retorts, etc. One of Saunders’s friends is a well-known film producer here. It appears that three years ago he had directed a film on the supernatural which was related to alchemy. For the scene of a laboratory, he had manufactured various ladles, cooking spuds, water pots, woks, and so on. Saunders had decided to hire some of these items.

  Saunders’s cat, Mustafa, is of course accompanying us. I personally feel that even if Crole hadn’t mentioned him, Saunders would anyway have taken Mustafa with him as he cannot remain apart from his pet for too long.

  I’m not very keen about the creation of gold, nor do I have any desire for it even if it’s successfully produced. My interest is chiefly based on the ground that I’ve never been to this part of Spain before. Saunders doesn’t have much work at present. Thus he, too, is moderately enthused about this outing. But the less one talks about Crole the better! Driven by intense excitement, he can hardly sit still for a moment. I have occasionally noticed him scribbling some geometric patterns in a notebook—the patterns reminded me of our tantric mandalas.

  When I was packing my bag in the evening, I heard the sound of a doorbell.

  Within minutes of the sound of opening the door, I heard a familiar voice. It was the voice of Crole’s American adversary at the auction. Out of sheer curiosity I went down to see what was going on.

  Saunders had shown the visitor into the drawing room. Crole must have heard the stranger’s voice as he, too, came down within a couple of minutes.

  The visitor right away took out three visiting cards from his pocket and handed one to each of us. The name on it was Rufus H. Blackmore.

  ‘Rufus Blackmore,’ said Crole, ‘are you that person who wrote the book, Black Art and White Magic?’

  ‘Yes, sir, the very same.’ I looked at his face closely. It was oval in shape. His skin was extraordinarily pale. His black hair reached his shoulders and was tucked behind the ears. His cool and calm eyes were a surprise; we had seen the same pair of eyes glowering at us at the Collingwood Auction House.

  *

  He now took out three silver balls, the size of ping-pong balls, from the right hand pocket of his coat. Then before our dazzled eyes he went on to create at least twenty-five magical tricks out of these balls. The sparkling balls appeared and disappeared all at once. There’s no way you can make out how they were made to move at such an amazing pace. So deft was Mr Blackmore’s sleight of hand. At his last act, when he brought out these invisible balls from each of our pockets, we all involuntarily clapped.

  ‘I can’t help but praise you for your dexterity,’ blurted Wilhelm Crole.

  ‘What have you seen of my power?’ Blackmore quipped with a dry smile. ‘This was so basic. Do you know my real magic?’

  And then Blackmore held one ball fixed between his index finger and the thumb, and said, ‘This is made of silver and this silver has been created by me. You will not be able to find more genuine silver than this. Not even in any silver mine.’

  We were quiet. Blackmore’s calm eyes were now sparkling.

  ‘Half the power of alchemy rests in my two hands,’ continued Blackmore. ‘But I could not succeed in creating gold despite trying over the last three years. I’m certain that Saavedra’s diary describes the method. I heard about this diary from my guru. When I came to know that the diary was being auctioned, I flew in from San Francisco. I’d assumed I’d get it cheap but hadn’t realized Mr Crole would be so obstinate. I could have overbid him that day but later I thought if we get to know each other personally, he himself would perhaps sell it back to me at the same price. I firmly believe that Mr Crole has bought this diary for his personal collection like
any average collector. But I’m an alchemist myself. In all of America—possibly the entire world—I’m the most genuine alchemist. My guru is no longer alive. Now I’m the only person who can do full justice to this diary. I’m carrying the money with me. I want that diary.’

  Rufus Blackmore now took out an attractive leather notecase from the pocket of his coat. Opening it he took out wads of ten pound notes and put them on the table in front of him.

  ‘Please take it back, Mr Blackmore,’ Crole said. ‘I’ve no desire to let go of my Saavedra diary.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake, Mr Crole.’

  ‘Maybe not. You may be a magician. But I’ve no proof of you being an alchemist. I’m not convinced that this silver ball is indeed your creation.’

  For a brief moment Rufus Blackmore remained quiet. Then, looking daggers at us, he shoved the wad of notes back into his pocket and with a sudden jerk got up from his chair. He looked at Crole and said, ‘Perhaps you know that 99 per cent of pure silver has been successfully created in a research lab through a chemical process. But we know of no instance of 100 per cent pure silver—except this silver, made by me.’

  Saying this, Blackmore threw one out of the three balls towards Crole. The ball landed on Crole’s lap.

  ‘I know all three of you are scientists,’ Blackmore continued. ‘At least in order to find out whether my words are true or not, I’m requesting you to check out this silver. I’m giving you two days. I’m staying at the Waldorf Hotel, room 429. If you change your mind and decide to sell the Saavedra diary to me then please give me a call. If you do not sell it to me, the least I can say is: you’re simply not capable of producing any gold.’

  After this dramatic sermon, not waiting for a moment, Rufus Blackmore with strident steps walked towards the door. What he did next was inexplicable and unpardonable. Saunders’s cat Mustafa was sitting on the threshold of the door. With the tip of this pointed patent leather shoes, Blackmore kicked the cat three yards away. Saunders exclaimed, ‘What the hell!’ and got up to attack him but Crole held him back. In any case by then Blackmore had reached the road. Crole said, ‘He doesn’t seem to be a decent sort. It’s best not to provoke him.’

  Mustafa was growling in anger and pain. After Saunders took him into his lap and petted him, he mellowed a bit. If this is the sample of an alchemist then it’s best to keep alchemy at bay! But that is not to be. Day after tomorrow we are leaving for Granada. No idea what the future holds for us.

  Montefrio, 29 June

  It’s raining. Judging by the sky I doubt if the clouds will disperse in a hurry. According to Crole, nothing could be more fortunate a sign, as one could now easily collect one of the main items required for the experiment. On the first floor of the Saavedra castle there’s an open terrace where we are collecting rainwater in a plastic bucket. I think it’ll fill up by the evening.

  We’re not staying in the castle; we’ve checked into a hotel. We need to stay in the hotel for another two days. Not a soul lives in the Saavedra castle and no one knows for how long it has remained uninhabited. But everyone here knows of the Saavedra family. In fact, soon after we reached Montefrio, the very first person we met on the street readily gave us directions to the castle.

  Since we had rested well in Granada, we were feeling quite refreshed and, deciding not to waste any time, followed that fellow’s direction. Reaching the post office we took a left turn and began to proceed on a hilly road. It took us ten minutes to arrive at the second landmark. This part of Spain had been ruled by the Arabian Muslims or the Moors during the eighth century, and for the next seven centuries. The signs are evident everywhere. For instance, Granada’s Alhambra fortress is, of course, world famous. We also spotted an ancient inn, belonging to the same era, in a state of ruins.

  Near the abandoned inn, a boy was standing next to a tree. A mongoose with a rope round his neck was perched on the boy’s shoulders. When he saw our taxi stop, he looked curious and came towards us. After we enquired about the Saavedra castle, it was he who informed us that no one lived in it. We explained our aim was not to meet anyone but only to see the castle. To which he said, if he is allowed to come with us in the car he can easily show us the way. Not just that—he also offered to help us as a guide. As none of us had any objection to this we took him in.

  The boy is quite chatty. Without being asked, he gave us loads of news about himself. His name is Pablo and he has four brothers and seven sisters. He is the youngest. His father owns a liquor shop and two of his brothers help him run it. One of the other two brothers looks after a fruit shop and the other one plays music in a restaurant. All the sisters are married. Pablo is well versed in the history of Montefrio. The exact period in which each house had been built, who lived where, which king died in which war—he knows it all. He doesn’t have a job as he is not well educated, though he occasionally earns a bit as a tourist guide. His real passion is to capture animals and tame them. He had caught this mongoose just three days ago yet the mongoose appears to have settled down rather well.

  We decided to accept Pablo’s offer to work for us during the period of our stay. He’ll help us with various errands which will be recompensed. Of course, whether or not the work gets done will depend on our visit to the castle.

  Inside the forest, after walking down a crooked path for about fifteen minutes Pablo ordered the car to stop at a certain point. We would have to walk the rest of the distance. ‘How far?’ asked Crole. ‘Not much. A two-minute walk,’ said Pablo confidently.

  Even if it wasn’t literally two minutes, after breaking through weeds and bushes for about five minutes, we arrived at the main entrance of the castle. It was not quite as large as a palace we had in our mind but big enough for hundred-odd people to be accommodated in it. This fortress has no protective ditch or moat around it. Straight from the road you could enter the main gate and walk through the curved path and then easily reach the main doorway.

  Pablo could gather we wanted to go inside it and hence warned us. ‘That castle now houses at least a few thousand bats. In addition to this, there are rats and snakes, too.’

  Saunders said, ‘How do you know so much about the interior of this house?’

  Pablo answered, ‘Once while chasing a salamander I entered this castle. This animal had been harassing me for a while. He made me chase him up to the terrace.’

  Salamanders belong to the lizard family. I knew they were abundant in this region of Spain.

  ‘What else did you see in this castle?’ asked Crole.

  Pablo replied, ‘As regards furniture, there was nothing more than a few broken wooden chairs and tables. A few rusted arms were still hanging against the wall.’ Apparently in some of the rooms the roof joists have come apart and are hanging loose, and one room is bolted from the outside so no one can enter it. But surprisingly the castle kitchen still retained a few old utensils. Pablo had picked up a clay pot from there to gift to his mother.

  Hearing this, our curiosity heightened. ‘Can you show us that kitchen?’ asked Crole in a voice which tried to suppress his excitement.

  ‘Why not?’ said Pablo. ‘Follow me.’

  As we went inside, we realized our conjectures were not all wrong. Watching this room located on the south-east end of the Saavedra castle, not an iota of doubt remained that 700 years ago some alchemist had indeed used it as his research laboratory. A furnace, a water tank in the middle of the room, clay pots, glass jars, retorts—no item was missing though everything was covered in a thick layer of 700-year-old dust. There was also a furnace from that period which Crole studied carefully and remarked that it would work easily even now. It was interesting because we have seen pictures of a room with exactly such identical arrangements of items in many ancient books on alchemy—the only difference being the people who were working in it belonged to the twentieth century. But it’s also true that along with Crole, my mind too has travelled to the middle age. The excitement that I sense in my nerves now must have also been
felt by the alchemists of that era.

  We inducted Pablo into our work schedule. We decided to pay him 1000 peseta per day. He will clean up the lab over the next two days so that we can start our work from the day after tomorrow. A couple of rooms need to be cleared up as well for the three of us will live inside the castle. Once we start our work on producing gold there’s no way we can leave this castle. Pablo will arrange for our food. There’s no problem in our sleeping arrangement as we all own sleeping bags. There would be no need for proper beds; the floor was good enough for us.

  We returned to our hotel from Saavedra castle at 1.30 p.m. Within half an hour of our return it began to rain and immediately we sent Pablo back to the castle along with the plastic bucket to retain the rainwater. Now it’s 8.30 p.m. This area is supposed to be quite dry; I guess it is only by sheer fluke that it rained.

  *

  Crole and Saunders called just now to say they are ready for dinner. I forgot to write down one thing—we have checked on the ball which Rufus Blackmore had given us and found that the silver used in it is completely pure. Hence we can no longer treat Blackmore as just a magician. We can no longer deny that he is also an accomplished alchemist. We now need to compete with him seriously in creating 100 per cent gold. In this regard all three of us are hell-bent on achieving our goal.

  30 June, 10.30 p.m.

  We have just returned to our hotel from the Saavedra castle. We spent the last two hours in our alchemic laboratory. Before we ventured into making gold, following the instructions marked out in Saavedra’s diary, we completed one task. I’m now going to write about that. Let me mention in the beginning that the tenth-century world-renowned Arabian alchemist’s spirit has already bestowed his blessings upon us. Tomorrow exactly at noon our furnace will begin to function. Work related items have all been gathered in our laboratory—all in sufficient quantity. We have installed a new strong padlock on the front door. From tomorrow we will live in the castle. Pablo will stay here, too. We have more or less explained to him about the work we are to embark on. The boy is so charmingly innocent that none of us hesitated in placing our faith in him.