Allan and Musafir find themselves bound to a tree, their fate now in the hands of their captors. As they await their uncertain fate, a sudden interruption breaks the tension: the arrival of a local police officer.

The officer, a formidable figure with a shaved head and a commanding presence, strides confidently towards Allan and Musafir. Clad in his uniform and armed with a sturdy stick at his side and a pistol holstered to his belt, he exudes an air of authority as he takes a seat before them.

The police officer, with an old-fashioned African accent, begins his interrogation simply ‘What’s your name?’

‘Allan Backerman. Professor of History and Archaeology advisor at the University of Washington, United States of America,’ Allan replies confidently, his voice steady despite the circumstances.

‘Oh. So you’re a professor. That’s good... Then why did you leave the United States?’ inquires the police officer with a hint of skepticism.

‘I have come here for archaeological testing,’ Allan responds succinctly.

‘You have permission from the government?’

‘Yes,’ Musafir responds hurriedly, his voice filled with urgency.

‘Show me,’ demands the police officer, his gaze sharp as he observes Allan and Musafir exchange uneasy glances. Sensing the officer’s suspicion, they exchange a knowing look before reluctantly complying with his request.

‘Actually, I don’t have one,’ Allan admits, his tone sincere. ‘I applied for permission, but it wasn’t approved. I realized the urgency of this excavation and decided to proceed without official authorization. Time is of the essence, and I couldn’t afford to delay any longer.’ Allan’s words explain the officer.

Musafir nods subtly, signaling to Allan that his explanation isn’t entirely accurate. ‘Officer, Allan did apply for approval before starting the excavation,’ Musafir interjects, his tone calm and composed. ‘In fact, I have the approval documents with me, obtained from the regional office. Unfortunately, they’re in my car at the moment.’ Musafir’s words carry a sense of reassurance, suggesting that they can provide the necessary documentation to verify their claims.

The officer, having untied Allan and Musafir, allows them to retrieve the documents from their car. As they approach the vehicle, they find themselves surrounded by tribal onlookers, their presence a stark reminder of the precarious situation they’re in.

Musafir swiftly unlocks the car and retrieves the documents from a hidden compartment beneath the driver’s seat. With the papers in hand, he approaches the officer and presents them without hesitation.

‘These are the documents,’ Musafir explains calmly. ‘As I mentioned earlier, Allan’s approval came through after he had already begun the excavation. We understand the importance of following protocol, but given the urgency of the situation, we had no choice but to proceed.’ Musafir’s words carry a sense of sincerity and earnestness, hoping to convince the officer of their innocence.

As the officer carefully examines the documents, Musafir adds further clarification. ‘In the permission granted to Allan, he is authorized to collect any items unearthed during the excavation for research purposes, particularly towards finding a cure for the disease. This is to be done under strict protocols and with regular updates provided to Washington State University,’ Musafir explains, pointing out specific details within the documents. ‘The authorization was signed by Officer Nikova Ulahanava, Chief Archaeology Advisor at the Ethiopian Archaeological Department.’ Musafir’s words aim to underscore the legitimacy of their actions and the importance of their mission.

The officer, satisfied with the explanation and the documentation provided, returns the documents to Allan. With a nod of approval, he gestures for Allan to retrieve his sling bag.

‘You can go,’ the officer declares, his tone carrying a sense of finality. Relieved and grateful, Allan accepts his bag and exchanges a nod of gratitude with the officer before turning to leave with Musafir. With their freedom restored, they make their way out of the tense situation, grateful for the chance to continue their important work.

UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON, SEATTLE, THE UNITED STATES

Two young men, both barely twenty-five, race towards the building, their urgent footsteps echoing in the air. One is white, while the other has a biscuit-colored complexion, both dressed in casual attire. Their voices ring out in excitement and urgency as they shout, ‘We’re gonna miss Professor Backerman’s class! Hurry up!’

Their enthusiasm is palpable as they sprint towards the building, eager not to miss out on the opportunity to learn from their esteemed professor. With adrenaline fueling their movements, they push themselves forward.

The two students pause outside the classroom, their eyes drawn to Allan as he engages with the students inside. When Allan notices them, he gestures for them to join the class, prompting them to enter and find seats on a nearby bench. As they settle in, they open their notes, revealing a series of peculiar drawings depicting six doors labeled A, B, C, D, E, and F.

Curiously, they notice that above the B door, Allan has sketched two intertwined snakes. Intrigued by the symbolism, they exchange puzzled glances before focusing their attention on Allan, eager to uncover the significance behind the enigmatic drawings.

‘All right, class, gather around,’ Allan begins, his tone commanding attention as he addresses his students. ‘Today, I’m going to share with you an extraordinary tale from my own archaeological exploits, one that’s not part of your regular syllabus.’

He leans in, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he continues, ‘We’re diving into the secrets of the Ananta Padmanabha Swamy Temple, a hidden gem nestled in the heart of Kerala, India. Now, this temple might not be as famous as some others, but let me tell you, it holds secrets beyond imagination.’

Pausing for effect, Allan emphasizes, ‘Picture this: vaults, each one brimming with treasures beyond comprehension. Gold, diamonds, precious artifacts—enough wealth to make your head spin. But here’s the kicker: one vault, Vault B, remains untouched, sealed shut by ancient chants and guarded by untold mysteries.’

As murmurs of fascination ripple through the classroom, Allan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. ‘They say Vault B is cursed, locked away with the Naga Pasha Mantra, a chant so powerful that it can only be undone by those who possess the ancient wisdom. But in the world of archaeology...’

Before he can finish, a sudden tap at the door interrupts his narrative, leaving the class hanging on the edge of their seats, eager to uncover the truth hidden within the temple’s chambers.

The door creaks open, revealing Jeff standing in the doorway, a familiar figure with a warm smile on his face. ‘Hey there, Allan,’ he greets, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. ‘We’ve got something you need to see.’

Allan’s eyes light up at the sight of his best friend, Jeff, a fellow professor of Anthropology at the university. Without hesitation, Allan rises from his desk, his curiosity piqued by Jeff’s unexpected arrival.

‘I am saying somethin’ important to these fellas.’ Says Allan in return.

‘This is something much bigger…’

‘All right, class,’ Allan announces, addressing his students as he steps out of the room, his demeanor confident and authoritative. ‘We’ll table this discussion for now, but trust me, we’ll pick up right where we left off next time. It’s bound to be an intriguing journey.’

With a nod of assurance, Allan dismisses the class, allowing them to disperse and continue with their day. As the students gather their belongings and exit the room, Allan follows Jeff.

‘What’s going on?’ Allan inquires as he and Jeff stroll down the corridor, their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor.

‘Allan, you won’t believe this,’ Jeff begins, excitement evident in his voice. ‘We’ve received the test results for the samples you collected from that place. It’s incredible. The material is like nothing we’ve ever seen before. It’s a blend of magnet and some unknown metal. Chemists are baffled; they can’t identify it, and it exhibits some really peculiar properties.’

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Allan’s eyes widen with amazement as he listens intently to Jeff’s explanation. ‘And that’s not all,’ Jeff continues, his enthusiasm growing. ‘The gold sand you found? It’s the real deal, pure gold through and through.’

Allan’s mind races with possibilities, his heart pounding with excitement. ‘This is huge,’ he exclaims, barely able to contain his excitement.

‘We need to get these samples to the top labs around the world. We’re on the brink of a major discovery here!’ says Jeff.

Allan pauses, his expression thoughtful as he considers the implications of Jeff’s revelation. ‘But, it doesn’t mean we have got something exactly,’ he interjects, his voice measured. “We still need to uncover the significance of the idol. Did you find any clues about its purpose or origin?’

‘I might have got it, guys…’ A melodious voice interrupts their conversation, drawing their attention to the source. Allan turns to see a young woman, her features strikingly elegant, with a radiant presence that commands attention. Clad in formal attire, she exudes an air of confidence as she waves enthusiastically to Allan and Jeff.

‘Hey, Kate! What a pleasant surprise,’ Allan exclaims, his delight evident in his voice as he greets the newcomer.

‘You were a little late.’ Says Jeff.

‘Of course, let’s head over to my place,’ Kate responds, her voice filled with anticipation. ‘I’ve compiled some information that might shed light on the mystery surrounding the idol.’

Allan, Kate, and Jeff sit in the cluttered analysis room at Kate’s house, surrounded by extinct archaeological maps and scripts of long-lost languages. Kate, a linguist specializing in extinct languages, has taken charge of deciphering the mysterious writings. She unrolls a chart displaying the diagram of the idol on the large table and gestures towards the bottom part with a stick.

‘If you observe the idol’s bottom part,’ she begins, ‘there’s a small inscription that appears to be a riddle.’

‘A riddle?’ Allan asks, leaning in with interest.

‘This is the thing… It is written in Semithara language, a very old, Ethiopian language, extinct very, very long ago, but one of it’s models was written in the book, “The Lost Ethiopia”, by Charles Huderken in 1896, but most of the linguists considered it as a less authentic book, but, when I used this book to convert the text, I have found something very peculiar,’ says Kate.

‘What does it say?’ asks Benz, peeking into the model drawn on the sheet.

‘The Sunshine falls when the disc is behind the idol, follows a code of “ANGKOR”… ’ says Kate.

Allan and Jeff exchange a puzzled glance, their brows furrowed in confusion as they try to decipher Kate’s words. They gaze at her intently, their eyes squinting slightly.

‘Did you just say ANGKOR?’ asks Allan.

‘Perhaps…’

Allan chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Kate, are you serious?’ he asks, his tone laced with amusement and skepticism.

‘But that’s what it says,’ Kate insists, her voice tinged with frustration as she rises from the table. With purposeful strides, she makes her way to the bookshelf, her fingers skimming over the worn spines until she finds what she’s looking for. Extracting the ancient tome dated back to 1896, she returns to the table, placing it down with a determined thud.

‘This is what it says,’ Kate declares, her tone laced with certainty as she reveals the final word of the riddle written in the ancient Semithara language. She points to the four characters etched on the page. “አንጎር,” she enunciates each syllable deliberately. ‘Ah-N-Goh-Ruh... That’s how it’s pronounced.’

Jeff’s phone buzzes, pulling his attention away from the conversation. With a swift motion, he lifts the phone to his ear and steps away, distancing himself from the table. His brow furrows as he listens intently, the seriousness in his eyes deepening with each passing moment. Finally, with a firm nod, he responds, ‘I’ll let them know.’ With a decisive tap, he ends the call, his expression unreadable as he returns to the table.

‘We’ve got a situation, guys. The committee’s gearing up to discuss us. We gotta haul over there, pronto,’ he declares.

‘This ain’t no walk in the park. Let’s move,’ Allan rallies the team.

Within the confines of the researchers’ union internal committee, Allan seizes the opportunity to present his research and project. Stepping confidently onto the dais, the room dims, casting a spotlight on Allan in his sleek black suit. With practiced precision, he adjusts his tie before taking his place beside the illuminated screen. The first slide flickers to life, posing the question: “What is the medicinal source for Pulmavertin?” Allan tests the microphone with a brief tap, ensuring everything is in order before he begins.

“Good evening, everyone. So, what’s the medicinal source for Pulmavertin?” Allan’s voice fills the room, commanding attention as he addresses the perplexing question head-on. “As our colleague mentioned earlier, none of the pharmaceutical researchers have cracked the code on its source. However, they speculate it’s a 5th generation antibiotic compound still in the experimental phase, with initial sample testing yielding less-than-promising results. But this is where history steps in,” Allan continues, his tone earnest as he advances to the next slide.

‘So, here we are, embarking on a research journey aimed at discovering a cure for a specific disease,’ Allan begins, his tone resolute as he references a compelling article penned by Ethiopian research scholar Nebiyu Assefa, PhD in Medical Research. ‘Dr. Assefa and I engaged in a discussion regarding Pulmavertin and its origins. He shared with us a fascinating tale that led us to the Semien Mountains, where we began our investigation. While we’ve uncovered a promising lead, the path ahead remains uncertain. With our research only in its infancy, having commenced just 14 days ago, we humbly request the committee’s support in championing our cause.’ Allan’s words hang in the air, each syllable weighted with the hope and determination of their endeavor.

A heavy silence descends upon the meeting room, leaving Allan momentarily perplexed by the lack of response. Meanwhile, the committee chairman engages in a hushed conversation with two individuals flanking him, their murmurs barely audible against the backdrop of anticipation. Suddenly, the chairman rises to address Allan directly.

‘Mr. Backerman, let me start by acknowledging your unwavering passion and dedication to bettering mankind,’ the chairman’s voice carries a tone of respect as he commends Allan’s past achievements in tackling social issues through archaeology. ‘We hold in high regard the invaluable contributions you’ve made, including your collaboration with Hexa Pharma in producing a rare organic vaccine for the masses in Cuba at more affordable rates.’

‘However,’ he continues, his expression solemn, ‘after reviewing the progress of your current endeavor over the past 14 days, it appears that tangible results have yet to materialize, save for the acquisition of an idol from the Semien Mountains. While we wholeheartedly support your commitment to finding solutions, the committee faces constraints due to limited financial resources.’

He pauses, the weight of his words hanging in the air before he offers a compromise. ‘Nevertheless, we are prepared to assist you in securing permissions for your research in various locations based on your prior information. Once you’ve made significant progress and presented a compelling case, rest assured, financial support from our budget will be made available to you.’

‘No... But... We’re certain about this... This is...’ Allan begins to protest, his confidence wavering in the face of the committee’s decision. However, before he can continue, Luke Tulipson, a seasoned archaeologist from the University of California, Los Angeles, interjects, rising from his seat to challenge Allan’s approach.

‘Mr. Backerman,’ Luke’s voice carries a tone of admonishment as he fixes Allan with a pointed stare. ‘I’m afraid you seem to have overlooked a fundamental tenet of archaeology: First proof, then research. It’s quite intriguing to witness a promising and accomplished archaeologist such as yourself stray from this basic principle,’ he remarks, a hint of amusement lacing his words as he chuckles softly.

To add context to the tension between Allan and Luke, it’s important to highlight a significant event from two years prior: the heated verbal altercation that erupted between them at the National Archaeologist Conference. In a public display of criticism during his speech, Luke Tulipson openly lambasted Allan’s theories, branding them as misguided and unsubstantiated. Luke’s reputation as an arrogant and egotistical figure within the archaeological community only serves to exacerbate the animosity between them, as he remains staunchly opposed to Allan’s unconventional ideas and approaches.

Allan gets furious and leaves the meeting. Jeff and Kate follows him.

As the car hums along the road, carrying Allan and his team back to their respective homes, a heavy silence settles within the vehicle, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of the tires against the pavement. Finally, Kate breaks the tension with a question that hangs in the air like a palpable weight.

‘What should we do now?’ she asks.

‘We may not have financial support right now, but that’s not going to stop us,’ Allan asserts, his voice firm and resolute. ‘We’re going to keep pushing forward until we find a solution.’

‘But hey, he’s got a point,’ Jeff chimes in, his tone thoughtful yet tinged with agreement. ‘We ain’t got no background research on the site. We’re flyin’ blind here. Truth be told, we ain’t got no solid archaeological or historical evidence to bank on for some ancient medical component.’ Jeff’s words carry a weight of realism, acknowledging the gaps in their knowledge and the challenges they face.

‘All right, let’s link up tonight at my place,’ Allan suggests, his tone carrying a sense of urgency.

At home later that night, Allan sets about cooking his meal when the shrill ring of the telephone pierces the air. Rushing to answer it, his hands still holding a spatula, Allan’s eyes widen in shock as he hears the frantic cries of Kate on the other end.

‘Allan! Allan! Save me,’ her voice echoes urgently through the receiver, sending a chill down Allan’s spine.

Suddenly, a bold male voice cut in, overriding Kate’s distress. ‘We’ve got Kate. If you wanna see her alive, head to Indianola by tomorrow evening. I’ll send you the coordinates to your phone... And don’t you dare try any cheap tricks You don’t know who you’re messing with. If you show up, she’s safe. If not... well, you know the deal,’ the voice threatens before abruptly ending the call. Allan’s heart pounds in his chest as the weight of the situation sinks in.

‘Hey! Who the hell—’ Allan begins, his voice a mix of confusion and anger, but before he can finish his question, the line abruptly goes dead, leaving him with more questions than answers.

THE END OF EPISODE - 2