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She was probably an innocent anyway. If truth be told, I guess I was feeling a bit cowardly right about then, also. I walked on and finally made my way into a working class pub some distance away.I have one of those faces, I guess, that instantly tell everyone I'm a Yank. Usually a stranger, and a foreigner to boot, isn't made to feel at home in the small neighborhood pubs by the locals. But the recent tragedy seemed to change things. I was instantly engaged in conversation and expressions of sympathy as if I had suffered a personal loss. I intended to just have a short drink and then take a cab back to my hotel. My plans changed when the other customers started ordering me drinks and it seemed impolite to refuse.Two tall, muscular men seemed particularly interested in talking to me. They introduced themselves to me as Derek and Nigel (not their real names). Derek and Nigel were both members of the London Fire Brigade and they wanted me to take messages back to New York, expressing.

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