Chapter 9: End Times

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, world-renowned Professor of Symbology Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D. and nun-of-the-people Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh D.D. have discovered that none other than Ireland’s Prime Minister Sir Bertrand Smythe was responsible for her uncle’s death and will stop at nothing to stop them discovering and exposing Scientologicianism’s darkest secrets.

And now, the concluding chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, now a major motion picture.

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‘But why?’ asked Langerton ‘Why would you want to keep secret the proof that the Scientologicianist story of Xenu conquering the Earth is true?’

‘Isn’t it obvious, old boy?’ asked Sir Smythe ‘If we told all the new recruits from the start that their bodies are infested with alien spirits and that the evil galactic ruler Lord Xenu is imprisoned in the Dublin Mountain we wouldn’t stand a chance! We’d be a laughing stock!’

The nun shifted anxiously as Smythe kept his gun trained on Langerton where he stood in the cavern.

‘No,’ continued Sir Bertie ‘Much better to start with a ”Free Personality Test” or a ”Stress Questionnaire”. Everyone is insecure about their personality to a greater or lesser extent, don’t you know, and there’s a lot of stress about among the sherry-drinking classes.’

‘But why did you kill my uncle.’ burst out Sister Siobhán like a cat wild from a cage.

‘My dear, he had threatened to reveal our darkest secrets to the world. You see, once we’ve taken the new recruits through a few tests and meter readings, and had them run a few technologies, we have made a small fortune. How many dupes do you think we could hook with that Science Fiction fantasy? Maybe a few, but not the ones with the real money!’

‘Yes,’ jumped in Langerton ‘and then after you’ve milked them and brainwashed them into doing anything you say, you can tell them the truth, but that they’ll have to keep it secret. And nobody will believe a word they say. It’s brilliant!’ concluded Langerton coldly.

‘Quite,’ said Sir Bertrand.

‘But how did my uncle James know about all of this?’ asked Ní Ceallaigh, still whirling from the sudden revelations.

‘Simply, my dearest, because he was descended from Lord Xenu himself!’

Suddenly, a grating sound followed by a loud clang emerged from the metal apparatus behind Langerton. Smoke billowed out from the mysterious object and more noises like a tractor or a robot. The top of the sarcophagus split into two parts and slid to the sides like the doors of a subway train. The ice smoke sank slowly to the floor of the cavern. From within the electro-coffin there emerged a groan.’

‘Fools! You have awakened Lord Xenu! You will pay for this!’ shouted Sir Bertrand with a frightened note in his voice.

They turned and saw that the open sarcophagus had revealed the horizontal figure of a large profile.

‘Xenu?’ asked Langerton.

‘Gargh!’ shouted the creature, sitting up in the coffin.

‘That’s not Xenu!’ said Wiggles ‘It’s renowned overweight deceased science fiction author N. Ron Cupboard!’

‘Blargh!’ roared the naked Cupboard as he tried to extract himself from the coffin.

‘Mr Cupboard, sir! I am your loyal servant!’

‘Wurgh!’ said the zombie-author.

N. Ron Hubbard made slowly for the exit.

‘Stop him! If he gets out Scientologicianism will be over!’

‘You mean … Cupboard is Xenu!’ shouted Ní Ceallaigh.

‘That’s right! And we would have gotten away with it!’ said Sir Bertrand.

A siren started to sound from outside the vault.

---

Langerton rolled over and turned off the alarm.

‘What a strange dream!’ he said as he rolled over and laid eyes on his sleeping partner. Siobhán was dozing peacefully.

Had it all been a dream? Or had it?

Chapter 8: Cave Hole

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, world-renowned Professor of Symbology Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D. and adventurous nun Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh D.D. made their way inside the Dublin Mountain in search of the ‘Thetan Secret’ promised by a riddle left by the nun’s deceased uncle which they deciphered with the help of Sir Bertrand Smythe. Deep ungerground they have made their way to a clearing. Over an enormous doorway is engraved the name ‘Xenu’.

And now, Chapter 8 of In The Phoenix’s Lair, Cave Hole.

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‘Xenu!’ cried Professor Robin Langerton after decoding the engraved message.

‘Could he really be imprisoned in here? I thought it was just a Scientologicianist myth!’ the nun questioned and said, respectively.

‘If there is one thing I have learnt in all my years of symbolics research,’ said Langerton ‘a grain of truth can be read into nearly anything.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed the theologian.

They approached the doorway, which towered over them like a whale. Langerton was just about to punch the door open with his fists when he heard a voice —

‘Greetings, Professor!’ it said.

And with that, the heavy doors swung inwards to reveal a cavern lit by candlelight.

‘What the …?’ began Langerton, catching himself before blaspheming.

The man and nun ran into the cavern to find the greeter. But it was completely empty apart from the candles and the mysterious apparatus at the centre of the perfectly hemispeherical cavern. Robin Langerton dashed briskly to the centre of the room. Was it a sarcophagus? A chest freezer? A portal through space and time? A large box with tubes and nozzles? It seemed to be all of these things, and more. As they moved around the room, the contours of the centrepiece appeared to change in the flickering candlelight.

‘What is it?’ asked Sister Siobhán.

‘I … I don’t know,’ said Langerton ‘but there must be a clue or a mysterious coded message here somewhere.’

---

The mysterious Master of the nun’s uncle’s assassin arrived at the Dublin Mountain. He marched past the aerodynamic hovercraft that had brought the Professor and the nun there to the small doorway that led into the tunnels. ‘Blast!’ he shouted, as he realised that Langerton and his accomplice were already inside. He bent down and lit his torch as he crawled inside, like a worm in a man-costume.

He knew exactly where he was going and started to make his way to the cavern taking the same path through the maze of passages, all alike.

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Back in the cavern Sister Siobhán cried, ‘Look at this!’ as she pointed to a small lever on one of the long sides of the enigmatic object. ‘Should we …?’ she asked suggestively.

‘No,’ decided Langerton emphatically ‘We need to know what we’re dealing with first.’

He ran his hands over the hard ceramic surface like a masseur, focussing his attention in his finger tips. As he finished, he grabbed the lever with his hands and jerked it upwards. Suddenly, he felt a bolt of energy shoot out from the device, like lightning. He fell backwards and saw that a glow was visible, shining through the cracks and the crevices from inside the object.

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The Master approached the entrance to the cavern that contained Langerton and Ní Ceallaigh inside. Crouching beside the doorway he looked inside and saw the two figures silhouetted against the glow of the mysterious device. ‘The fools! They must not reawaken Xenu!’ he thought loudly.

From the shadows, the Master saw a figure dash past him and into the cavern. It was the assassin.

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‘Stay right where you are! I killed your uncle to protect this secret, and I’ll kill you too!’ he screamed from the top of his tiny legs as he raised his gun. Langerton and the nun froze, and turned to face him like statues. The assassin stepped forward. ‘Give me the clues! Your uncle’s papers!’ The professional killer waved the gun wildly and twitched.

The Master took his opportunity to enter ‘Thomas, you may leave. I no longer have any need for you,’ he said coldly.

Langerton and the nun recognised the man at once and froze even more.

‘Sir Bertrand!’ they gasped.

‘That’s right,’ said the evil mastermind. ‘Muah ha ha ha!’ he laughed. ‘It was I who had your uncle killed, sister, and it was I who brought you here!’

‘But why?’ asked Langerton still dazed from the shocking revelation from his old friend.

‘That,’ said the Master slowly ‘will have to wait.’

Chapter 7: Tunnel of Love?

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, rugged Professor of Symbology Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D. told curvaceous nun Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh D.D. the Scientologicianist myth of Galactic Ruler Lord Xenu and his mountainous imprisonment. Clues from the nun’s uncle have directed them to the Dublin Mountain where they are now in a hovercraft going to. Prime Minister Sir Bertrand Smythe and his servant Wiggles are following the investigative duo.

And now, Chapter 7 of In The Phoenix’s Lair, Tunnel of Love?

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‘You OK back there?’ shouted the Professor to Sister Siobhán, as the sleek Massey-Ferguson hovercraft soared over the West Dublin countryside down below, which went by like a map.

‘I am fine, go raibh maith agat, Professor Robin,’ she replied. She held a sick-bag nervously on her lap and flicked through the in-flight magazine to keep her mind off the turbulence.

‘There it is!’ cried Langerton informatively. Up ahead the vast conical bulk of the Dublin Mountain lay in front of them like a large pile of rock. Robin Langerton eased forward on the controls and took his foot of the gas. The hovercraft began to descend and a short while later they landed on the lower slopes of the hill like a fly on a slice of cheese.

Robin Langerton released the hatch and the pair spilled out onto the rough morning mountainside. Sister Siobhán removed her helmet and life vest, and reattached her wimple, out of habit. Langerton tossed his into the cockpit and locked the vehicle with a beep from the beeper.

‘The clue and the Scientologicianist myth both tell us that we should look inside or under the mountain…’ said Langerton.

‘That’s impossible!’ said Sister Siobhán ‘How could we get into the mountain without a door or a tunnel?’

‘There it is!’ said Langerton ‘Behind that bush: there’s something there.’ The symbologist–nun team walked up to and beyond the mysterious bush to find an intriguing door set into the side of the mountain. It was approximately one thousand five hundred and fifty millimetres high, Langerton estimated, and made of an unusual dark stone-like material, weathered by the ages. Engraved on the portal were occult symbols with an inverted snail at the top.

‘I know this: it’s Ogham!’ shouted the female nun. She slowly decoded the ancient message symbol by symbol, starting ‘D, E, …’

When she was finished, Langerton read back the full message:

‘Deposit 10p in slot A
then depress button B
and lift handle.
No hawkers.’

‘The Hawk Guard, or “Hawkers”, were the closest and most loyal of Xenu’s troops. Whoever built Xenu’s prison would obviously want to keep them away with a spell like this!’ explained Professor Langerton excitedly. ‘The rest is gibberish to me. Any ideas, sis?’ he asked questioningly.

‘I think I have used one of these before,’ she said, much to Robin Langerton’s surprise. She reached into her habit and deftly pulled out a large carpet-bag. From the bag she dexterously withdrew a small coin purse. She snapped open the purse and gingerly extracted an ancient Irish flóirín coin, Gaelic for ‘10 pence’. She rubbed her hand near where the inscription read ‘slot A’ and discovered one of the strokes concealed a slot of the perfect size. She inserted the coin and a mechanism inside the door began to whirr, finishing with a click.

The nun bent closer to the door and felt around the strokes and points that encoded ‘button B’. The inner part of one of the marks was slightly loose. Sister Siobhán held her breathe as she pressed it with her thumb. She felt the mechanism in the door release. Gears turned and the bolts retracted inside the lock and the door creaked a fraction inwards.

Langerton punched the door open with his fist and crouched down as he entered the low tunnel. Ní Ceallaigh lit a candle and proceeded behind the professor. They shuffled further into the tunnel, and the light from the doorway grew more dim like distant lamp. Suddenly they reached a fork in the tunnel. In the left tunnel they could see light in the distance. ‘Let’s go that way!’ said Langerton racing off into the darkness. Sister Siobhán struggled to keep up with his manly and virile pace.

Eventually they reached an opening, a cavern. Another door faced them. In giant three foot high Ogham letters Sister Siobhán read ‘X, E, N, U.’

‘That spells … Xenu!’ cried Langerton.

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‘They are making their way to Xenu’s lair,’ said the master, speaking from his car-sat-phone.

‘How do you know this, master?’ asked the assassin, who often wore platform shoes when in public to make himself appear taller.

‘Never mind that. You must hurry or they will discover the secret, the secret of Xenu!’

‘Yes, master.’ The assassin switched off his cell. This was risky business, but he had already seen the colour of his master’s money.

Chapter 6: Dragon Quest 2000

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, renowned Professor of Symbology Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D. introduced glamorous nun Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh to his old friend Ireland’s Prime Minister Sir Bertrand Smythe who Robin Langerton hoped could aid them with their investigation of the mysterious death of Mr James Kelly-Smith Senior. A series of clues has led them to a Scientologicianist secret in The Dublin Mountain.

And now, Chapter 6 of In The Phoenix’s Lair, Dragon Quest 2000.

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‘The Dublin Mountain?!’ gasped the tall, rugged Langerton and the pious, curvaceous Ní Ceallaigh in unison.‘Yes,’ agreed the knighthood-holder ‘that must be it!’

Just then, there was a crash in the dining room.

‘What was that?’ whispered Sister Siobhán huskily.

‘Just Wiggles, I’d expect,’ said Sir Bertrand ‘We’ve gone through a very many bottles of sherry recently. Sherry, anyone?’

They declined politely once more.

Another loud sound came from the next room.

‘Wiggles?’ called Sir Bertrand ‘Is that you, you daft bugger, old bean, I say?’

Suddenly, and without warning, the tiny assassin burst into their midst like a baloon in a fog.

‘What the Accrington Stanley?’ Sir Bertrand started to say before the curiously diminutive attacker stopped him by saying

‘Stay back! I’m a top gun and I’d have no problem killing a few good men to get what I want so just give me the papers and don’t try anything.’

Langerton, Smythe and Ní Ceallaigh backed away from him and cowered in the drapes like cattle. The assassin reached for the papers and started to scan the first page with his eyes.

Like the flash, Sir Bertrand’s butler sneaked up on the intruder and knocked the gun from his hand. He spun round and his face met a heavy crystal bowl contained in the servant’s hands.

‘Wiggles!’ exclaimed Sir Bertrand ‘Well done, my chap, although I’m not sure former Prime Minister of Ireland Sir Jeremiah Beadleson would have approved.’

With the assailant defeated, they dragged his small unconcious body to the kitchen. Wiggles tied him to a wooden chair while his betters discussed their plans.

‘We must leave at once for the Dublin Mountain,’ said Professor Langerton eagerly.

Langerton spread out a map on the kitchen table.

‘Here is Phoenix Park, over here there are the Blanchardstown Shopping Mall, and further down over here is The Dublin Mountain,’ he said pointedly.

Sir Bertrand agreed, ‘You pair go ahead and Wiggles and I will take up the rear.’

‘Bertie, can we borrow a hovercraft?’ asked Langerton

‘Certainly, my dear fellow. Take the Massey-Ferguson. It’s the yellow one, in the stables.’

Robin Langerton grabbed the keys and led his nun to the outbuildings.

’I’ll drive,’ he commanded authoritatively.

Langerton slipped into the driver’s seat and Sister Siobhán gingerly took the passenger seat directly behind his. The professor ignitiated the hover-vehicle and her skirts billowed out as they filled with air.

‘Sorry about that,’ said the Sister apologetically.

The craft slid silently out of the stable and over the gravel driveway to Main Street, Phoenix Park. Langerton clicked on his headset:

‘I didn’t tell you the whole Scientologicianist story about Xenu and the Thetans before. Over.’ said Langerton through the intercom.

‘I roger that. Over.’ replied Sister Siobhán into her helmet microphone.

‘After the Thetan spirits escaped to torment the inhabitants of Earth, the evil ruler of the Galactic Confederacy, Lord Xenu, was captured by rebel officers of the galactic army. The legend says that he is frozen in an eternal force-field under a mountain. Over.’

‘Could it be? … Over.’ thought Sister Siobhán.

‘Yes. We have to go to the Dublin Mountain and find out what filling lies at its hollow core. Over and out.’ concluded Langerton.

Langerton fired the thrusters and pulled back on the joystick. The hovercraft’s nose left the ground and they started to gain altitude. The Massey soared over the Liffey before banking to starboard.

‘Are you there Xenu?’ thought Professor Robin Langerton through gritted teeth, ‘It’s me, Robin.’

---

Back in the Prime Ministerial castle’s kitchen was in uproar.‘You fool!’ shouted Sir Bertrand ‘How could you have let him escape?’

‘I’m sorry m’lud. I just turned my back for an instant and he was gone, far and away!’

‘Wiggles, you idiot!’ said Sir Bertrand ‘You know I cannot stay angry at you for long, you cheeky monkey, my lad. We must follow Langerton … to Xenu’s lair!’

Chapter 5: Days of Thunder

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair renowned Professor of Symbology Professor Robin Langerton PhD and the enticing expert of theology and cults Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh found a clue to the murder of the nun’s uncle in mysterious circumstances leading them to the Phoenix Park in her uncle’s cottage. They are on their way to visit Éire’s Prime Minister Sir Bertrand Smythe in his official residence. Meanwhile, the nun’s uncle’s assassin is on the prowl.

And now Chapter 5 of In The Phoenix’s Lair: Days of Thunder.

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‘Yes?’ said the assassin, answering his cell in English.

‘It is I. What is our status, little one?’ replied the voice.

‘Master, the mission – impossible though it seemed – was a success, but there is a problem.’

‘Yes?’

‘Robin Langerton PhD is involved. He may have a clue,’ explained the assassin.

‘Meddling fool! Hunt him down and kill him … to death,’ said the Master, and he hung up.

The assassin put the cell in his pocket and rode off.

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It had been four hours since Langerton and Ní Ceallaigh left nun’s deceased uncle’s cottage in Meath County. They cruised along the tree-lined streets of Phoenix Park before turning into the driveway of Áras Úfásach.

‘Bertie should be able to help us,’ yapped Langerton happily ‘He’s an expert.’

Langerton pressed the button on the intercom at the gates.

A muffled voice answered ‘Hello?’

‘This is Professor Robin Langerton PhD. I need to speak to Sir Bertrand,’ he said pleadingly.

‘It’s after midnight,’ responded the voice forcefully ‘you will have to come back tomorrow. Good Ni…’

‘Just tell Sir Bertrand that I, Robin Langerton, need to speak to him. He’ll know it’s important.’ insisted Langerton.

Sir Bertrand’s butler gave a resigned sigh and scurried off to revive his master. Before long another voice appeared from the speaker.

‘Hello, Robin, old boy, is it really you?’ it said.

‘Bertie! Good to hear you!’ said Langerton friendlily.

The intercom clicked off and the gates swung open like the jaws of a whale. Robin Langerton got back into the passenger seat and Sister Siobhán smoothed down her wrinkled habit, slightly flustered. She put the car in gear and gunned it over the gravel.

When they reached the house Sir Bertrand was waiting at the door for them.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this hour, Robin,’ he asked ‘and who is your accompaniment?’ he added noticing the stunning nun cowering in his wake.

‘This is Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh, from Maynooth U., a theologian.’ introduced Langerton.

‘Call me Bertie, my dear,’ responded Sir Bertrand ‘Sherry?’

‘She’s driving,’ said Langerton ‘so make mine a double. Ha ha ha.’ he joked cleverly.

They followed the elderly statesman into his sitting room and began to explain the evening’s events to him. They told him of James Kelly-Smith’s final message … and the Sign of the Phoenix.

‘Scientologicianists, you say?’ queried sir Bertrand solemnly ‘Sherry?’ he added absentmindedly.

Sister Siobhán showed the confused old man her uncle’s papers. Almost immediately they stumbled on another puzzling riddle. Sir Bertrand Smythe, Honorary Doctor of Letters read the words that were written on the paper out loud so that the others could hear the spoken as well as reading them:

The hill increases to twice its size.
Here the thetan secret lies.

‘Thetan?’ asked Sister Siobhán.

Langerton began to explain, ‘In Scientologicianist mythology, 75 million years ago the galactic ruler Xenu decided to deal with overcrowding on all the planets he controlled by paralysing hundreds of billions of inhabitants and flying them to Earth, which was called Tee-gee-ack, and putting them at the bases of volcanoes. Then hydrogen bombs were detonated in the volcanoes and killed everyone.

‘But their souls, their thetans, remained. Xenu captured the thetans with electric vacuum cleaners and brought them to special 3-D cinemas were they were shown a confusing film to implant false memories. Clusters of these thetans invaded the bodies of the living and they are what cause all mental problems and delusions. It’s complete nonsense, of course, invented by a second-rate science fiction author on drugs,’ he concluded.

‘So what is the thetan secret, and where is the hill this pretty girl’s uncle mentioned?’ asked Sir Bertrand ‘Sherry?’ he added, out of habit.

‘A hill that increases to twice its size,’ mused Sister Siobhán ‘Could it be a volcano, like in the myth?’

‘No,’ said Langerton firmly ‘A volcanic eruption wouldn’t make a mountain double in size.’

‘That’s it!’ cried Sir Bertrand who was familiar with the local geography. ‘The secret must be in … The Dublin Mountain!’

Chapter 4: Beyond All Hope

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair renowned symbologist Professor Robin Langerton PhD escaped from the clutches of Police Chief O’Looney with nun-cum-beautiful female theologian Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh. They are driving to the house Sister Siobhán’s uncle, murdered renowned shop-keeper Mr James Kelly-Smith Senior, hoping to discover some clues. His mysterious assasin is still at large.

And now Chapter 4 of In The Phoenix’s Lair: Beyond all hope.

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Sister Siobhán’s wheels’ treads ploughed through the driveway’s gravel before coming to a halt on the driveway’s surface, thereby stopping the crunching sound which hand been made by their rotation up to that point. Sister Siobhán opened the door and stretched her slender legs through the opening until they made contact with the ground. Standing up, she closed the door behind her. Professor langerton got out of the car in a similar fashion and encircled the car to arrive at the nun’s flank.‘The lights are off,’ whispered Sister Siobhán cautiously.

‘So nobody’s home,’ deduced Langerton.

The pair made their way to the wooden porch of the imposing stone cottage and gazed up at the third storey window directly above the front door which was open and whose curtains billowed out into the night like a floral-print soufflé.

‘The window…,’ gasped Ní Ceallaigh

Sister Siobhán brought a ladder from her car and leant in on the open window sill.

’I’ll go first,’ said Langerton ‘we don’t know who could be in there.’

He climbed up the ladder like a mountain goat and disappeared through the curtains of the window. Sister Ní Ceallaigh waited, and after a short wait Professor Langerton appeared grinning at the front door that he had opened from the inside.

‘Let’s take a look around,’ he said.

Sister Siobhán headed straight for her uncle’s study.

‘If there’s a clue it will be in the study,’ she said ‘That is where he keeps them.’

She held the flickering candle in front of her to light her path as she entered the wood-panelled study and looked over to her uncle’s untidy desk.

Langerton lowered slightly his enormous flaming torch as he followed her into the room.

‘What a mess,’ he shouted over the crackle and smoke of his burning branch.

The nun hunted through the desk’s contents like a raccoon in the trash looking for bacon until she found what she was looking for.

‘A riddle!’ she exclaimed ‘It must be a clue!’

She read aloud:

I rise from my ashes after my feathers char.
I live in a car park but without a car.

She broke off ‘What can it mean? A car park without a car? Impossible!’

‘Rise from my ashes…’ mumbled Langerton, lost in thought, ‘feathers…’

‘A car park without a car… It must mean a park!’ burst out Sister Siobhán.

‘Yes!’ exclaimed Langerton, struggling still with the riddle.

‘But what can the first part mean… Wait! A bird that rises from its ashes… But of course! A phoenix! The phoenix was a mythological bird from Egypt which would build itself a nest of fire, would die and be reborn from its ashes. Phoenix carpark… Hmm…’

‘The Phoenix Park!’ exclaimed gasped Sister Siobhán triumphantly ‘Are we going to the Zoo?’

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ yelled Langerton ‘Tonight we must go to the Prime Minister’s house Áras Úafásach, which means white house. My old friend Sir Bertrand will be able to help us!’

Sister Siobhán gathered her uncle’s papers and dashed to the car. They got in and the nun snuffed out her candle, and Langerton switched off the torch and placed it in the trunk, or ‘shoe compartment’ as Sister Siobhán called it.

‘Yes, let’s pay Bertie a visit,’ said Langerton.

Chapter 3: Escape to Victory

In the previous chapter of In The Phoenix’s Lair, Professor of Symbology Robin Langerton PhD and Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh learnt that her uncle, renowned store-keeper Mr Jim Kelly-Smith Senior had been mysteriously murdered in the Blanchardstown Shopping Center in mysterious circumstances. His final message suggested a link to Scientoligicianism, and when Robin Langerton saw the victim’s contorted body he gasped ‘The Sign of the Phoenix!’

And now, Chapter 3 of In The Phoenix’s Lair: Escape to Victory.

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‘The Sign of the Phoenix!’ gasped Professor Langerton again, but quietly, as if thinking.

‘What does it mean?’ gasped Sister Ní Ceallaigh curiously?

‘It is a secret symbol of the Confraternity of the Phoenix, West Dublin Branch, known only to its members. This can mean only one thing: Mr Kelly-Smith Senior was a member, a brother of the Phoenix, and he must have posed a threat to whoever killed him,’ he said gaspingly.

‘The Scientoligicianists!’ exclaimed Sister Siobhán.

‘Exactly correct,’ replied Langerton ‘But why?’

Just then, Professor Langerton’s mind flashed back to his earlier encounter with Police Chief O’Looney: he had been wearing a Scientologicianist club badge!

‘Quick, we have to get out of here, and quick!’ whispered Langerton, turning to the brunette.

‘I know a way,’ said Sister Ní Ceallaigh knowingly.

They walked out to the main exit, got into the Sister’s car, and drove off.

Suddenly police officers came running out of the Center shouting ‘Stop! In the name of the law!’

Sister Ní Ceallaigh sped out of the parking lot and gunned it into the rotary, leaving the police in her wake, like a speed boat.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Langerton ‘Are we escaping to Mullingar? I hear Joe Dolan …’

Sister Siobhán gave Langerton a withering yet sympathetic glare with her steely green eyes glinting softly in the lights of the passing street lamps as they drove on through the night.

‘Ah, no …’ she said ‘Best to avoid Mullingar altogether if we can help it. We’ll go to my deceased uncle’s house. O toora loora laddy,’ she added melancholily.

‘We may be able to uncover some clues there!’ said Langerton unnecessarily.

They drove on like a shark through the water of the night, and turned right at the traffic lights.

---

Meanwhile, the mysterious short-limbed assassin rode his motorbike through the night. He passed a horse in a field, and as lighting struck the horse reared up. The assassin cruised on, a true maverick.

Chapter 2

The helicopter touched down on the mall’s main runway and Langerton ran towards the awaiting police office like a swift. He was waved under the police line, which being in Ireland was green and said ‘Ná bí ag rith,’ Gaelic for ‘Do not cross.’‘Good evening Professor,’ boomed Police Chief O’Looney ‘You can call me Police Chief O’Looney’ he added friendlily. The doctorate-holder and the middle-aged police chief walked side-by-side into the bowels of the mall. Dr Langerton noticed the badge on the chief’s lapel which read ‘I  heart Scientologicianism. Ask me why!’ The professor recognised this as a Scientologicianist symbol, but what could it mean?

The burly police officer ushered Robin Langerton into a makeshift office which the last shift had made by shifting some partitionas to make an office of sorts, which he now entered.

‘Professor Langerton, this is Sister Siobhán Mór Ní Ceallaigh DD, Ireland’s foremost expert on mythical creatures, theology, and creamed cheese products from Maynooth University, over the border in Kildare County.’

‘Dia dhuit, professor,’ said the Doctor of Divinity in her lilting brogue.

‘And may the Gods of Saint Mary and Patrick be upon you too,’ intoned Professor Langerton, completing the traditional Celtic greeting.

Sister Siobhán nodded in appreciation.

‘Please excuse me for a minute,’ commanded the Police Chief hurriedly and left the pair of academics alone.

‘Why are we here?’ asked Professor Langerton ‘It’s after twenty one hundred hours!’

‘Why indeed Professor. It is very how-you-say mysterious. The Garda told me they need our help!’ replied Sister Ní Ceallaigh in her flat drawl, using the Gaelic word for ‘police’. Langerton knew this came from an ancient phrase meaning ‘Guardian of the Queen.’

‘But why would they need a symbologist and a beautiful female theologist so late at night?’

At that point the Police Chief returned like a rocket and proclaimed ‘You may be wondering why we brought you both here, you, Professor being an expert in religious symbology, successful author and self-publicist, and you, Sister, being an attractive religious scholar.’

They nodded in unison.

‘Tonight in this mall there has been a murder!’ continued O’Looney.

They gasped in unison.

‘The victim was expert store manager Mr James Smith-Kelly Senior. He …’

But before he could finish what he was saying he was interrupted by another person’s talking

‘Ó go bhfóire dia orainn!’ stammered Sister Siobhán.

‘That’s my uncle Jim,’ she thought to herself. ‘He must have known I’d be called in.’ she thought in her low, seductive voice. She ran her hand through her habit nervously.

‘We will need you both to examine the scene. Here are some photographs,’ said O’Looney, handing over an envelope to Professor Langerton.

Robin Langerton PhD gingerly extracted the photographs from their sheath, like a primate peeling the skin from a banana.

What they depicted was truly shocking: Kelly Senior’s distorted body lay at the centre of the most arcane and bewildering design ever constructed with vegetables, processed dairy and condiments. His arms were raised above his head, his legs twisted as if he was part way through a dance routine. Glistening tubers encircled his body like giant pearls. His message glowed red in the light from the flash bulb.

The next image showed a close-up of his hands, wrists crossed, thumbs intertwined and with fingers spread wide … like wings.

‘The sign of the Phoenix!’ gasped Langerton.

Chapter 1

‘Mister President, Prime Minister, assorted Ladies and Gentlemen, let me conclude by saying how honored I am to deeply accept this position in Blanchardstown Institute of Technology, sister Institute of Massechussets Institute of Technology and the preemier University of Symbology in Ireland and, in fact, all of Britain,’ concluded Robin Langerton his speech.

The prestigious audience applauded the American 43-year-old man. The dean arose like a slumbering cow and gambolled to the podium.

‘From this lectern you have heard one of the greatest voices of Robin Langerton in the recent modern history of ancient symbology. His contributions to symbolics are above all others. Ladies and Gentlemen, please raise your glasses in a toast: to Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D.!’ The crowd simultaneously cheered and drank from their wine glasses.

The audience piled out of the auditorium to the buffet outside of it in the gleaming atrium. Waiters moved briskly about carrying trays of champagne to and fro. Langerton reached out as one passed but he was too slow because he was too fast. He turned back to his conversation partner and continued ’… but really that whole Da Vinci thing was just a bit of fun. And my publisher loved it!’

Suddenly, his pager went off with the theme from the X-Files. It read:

cum @1s 2 blanshopmall XXX

Using his professor’s PhD in symbology he was able to decode the cipher.

‘I have to go to the Blanchardstown Shopping Mall. The call was from Police Chief O’Looney himself’s fourteen-year-old daughter!’

Prologue

Renowned store-keeper Mr Jim Smith-Kelly Senior limped through the wild natural beauty of the East wing of the Blanchardstown Shopping Mall near the bit with the pound shop. The fifty-two-year-old man picked up a recently-refilled fire extinguisher and tried to smash the window of the drug store. The crashing glass gave in on the second of his manly blows and Kelly fell through after it.

The middle-aged store-keeper with thinning hair caught sight of himself in a shard of the glass he had just broken with the powerful red fire extinguisher’s solid steel shaft and he took the opportunity the push his bifocals up his nose and wipe a strand of hair from his dull green eyes to a position above his bushy eyebrow. Smith-Kelly new he didn’t have much time and surveyed his surroundings for someplace to hide.

Terifyingly near, a voice spoke:

‘Stay right where you are!’

Crouched between the feminine hygeine products and the gentlemens’ cosmetics and chemist goods the shop-keeper kept absolutely still and turned his head in the direction of where he had just come from. Outlined against the bright security lights beyond the broken window six yards away was a powerfully-built yet compact outline of a man. He had dark hair and his bright eyes stared intently into the depths of the store.

Jim Kelly considered his options as his attacker flew through the window like a chrash of lighting. He decided to run. The store-keeper inched behind the shampoo aisle past the soda fountain and pushed through the slamming door as he stormed off along the wide long corridor with stores and Starbucks’s on each side.

He ran into the supermarket and began collecting items. The store-keeper would need to be quick. Courgettes, cream cheese, frozen curried chips. He dove for the biggest bottle of tomato ketchup he could find.

The alarms had sounded as soon as Kelly Sr had broken the drugstore’s window and his assailant knew he didn’t have long. He ran out the the furniture store, jumped the couch, and was gone.

Smith-Kelly was slowing down as the deadly toxin that his attacker had secreted in his arm continued to take effect, like a poison running through his veins.

The store-keeper used all his specialist knowledge to gather the products he needed from the store’s aisles: toothpaste, rubber gloves, catfood and much much more. ‘Buy one, get one free,’ he remarked to himself. He wheeled his trolley out to the vast opening and set to work. He only had a few minutes but he had to let them know and he had to work fast!

He arranged his shopping, his raisons d’etre as he now thought of them, in an intricate pattern on the tiled floor. With his last breath he squeezed the ketchup bottle and wrote the cryptic words:

‘The Scientologicians have had me killed because I knew quite a lot about that sort of thing. Contact Professor Robin Langerton Ph.D.’