On the second day, Jim's phone rang. He was asleep when it rang, dreaming to the melody of a children's song about death and destruction. He awoke from his sleep, jumped up and grabbed the receiver before it rang for a third time. "Jim?" the faceless voice on the other side of the line asked.
"Yes," Jim replied.
"Can you meet me on the corner of Eleventh Avenue and 50th street in two hours? I'm sure you have a lot of questions." There was a pause as if the man on the other end of the line didn't know what more to say. "I tried to pick a spot that wasn't too far from your hotel."
"Sure," Jim replied in a daze, unsure if he was still sleeping. But he was awake.