"That's what Kirk calls me."
"Ya, ya. He said you want to attend our meetings. Ya? Is that so?" Jon sounded enthusiastic.
"That's why I swam the Atlantic, all three thousand miles. I would love to!" Jon didn't sound like Scott expected a computer hacker to sound, whatever that was.
"Huh?" Jon asked. "Ah, ya, a joke. Goot. Let me tell you where we meet. The place is small, so it may be very crowded. I hope you do not mind." Jon sounded concerned about Scott's comfort.
"Oh, no. I'm used to inconvenience. I'm sure it will be fine."
"Ya, ya. I expect so. The meetings don't really begin until tomorrow at 9AM. Is that goot for you?"
"Yes, just fine, what's the address?" Scott asked as he readied paper and pen.
"Ya. Go to the warehouse on the corner of Oude Zidjs Voorburg
Wal and Lange Niezel. It's around from the Oude Kerksplein.
Number 44."
"Hold it, I'm writing." Scott scribbled the address phonetically. A necessary trick reporters use when someone is speaking unintel- ligibly. "And then what?"
"Just say you're Repo Man. There's a list. And please remember, we don't use our given names."