Appearantly, I have a problem.

After a 5 hour-long flight to London, my suffering was not seen enough. I was retrieving cash from the airport atm when I felt something on my back. The hand of a friend perhaps? No, there was noone as I flinched and turned around to look. After a moment later, my friend who was supposed to pick me up, seeing it was my first time in London called to say that she was not going to make it as something was wrong at work. From the sound of her voice, I could tell it was a serious problem. Righteously too, she was placed at House of Commons, dealing with people and politicians on a daily basis. Before we terminated our conversation, she asked me to just keep myself busy at downtown. Oh boy, was I in for a treat! I learned the true meaning of that ghost hand when I was mugged in an alley!

Appearantly, I was marked in the airport so that the criminals of the western world could notice me as I paraded myself openly all around the city center. My wallet, gone; my phone, gone; my suitcase, gone. Oh but oh they didn't forget to wish me a good trip.

"Enjoy London, miss!" Bigger of the pair said and tipped his ghost hat as I watched them walk away with my belongings.

Fuckers.

Naturally, as I was shaken with fear and shock, I managed to find the way to the police station to report 'a crime'. The station was busy, to be honest I didn't know what to expect, I had never been involved in a crime before.

A police woman greeted me, she was utmost indifferent to my situation, I could tell. The chattering, however, in the station was beginning to attract my attention. News were playing in a screen hung on the wall. Muted.

It was showing the House of Commons. Something was not right.

A bomb? Could be.

A man with salt and pepper hair came towards us, holding a file in his hands and a tired expression on his face. I was happy to see that finally someone was taking interest in my case.

"Everything that I own is gone, you must help me. My wallet, my phone, my clothes, my passport!"

But no, he was not what I expected.

"Why is he not picking up his phone? I have called him 17 times today and nothing."

The woman grunted.

"I am going to call the doctor then?"

"And stop by his house, I must attend to this.." He gazed at the tv for a moment. "We are in knee-deep shit."

Was noone going to help me? Bollocks!

So, they let me go with a complaint file and advised that I should go to my consulate. Such a big help, they were. But I was worried now. More about my friend, than my stolen items.

One of the public telephones rang as I walked past, right out of the station.

Why I picked it up right away, I have no idea.

"Hello my dear." A male voice was at the other end of the line.

"I have something that belongs to you."

A whimper escaped my lips and I turned around to look as if I could see who was calling me.

Nada.

"Don't try to locate me. We will meet when I see fit." He said and hung up the phone all the while I was thinking:"WHAT THE FUCK?"

Then a loud noise came, then we shook and I found myself lying face down on the ground.

It seems that it was indeed a bomb.