Mike Dixon

CHAPTER 4
Parcels
t was 7.30 am and pouring with rain, heavy by Can-
I berra standards. Humphrey Hansen drove into the
parking area beside a large government building and hunted
for a suitable place to leave his car. He was having
trouble with the ignition. The battery had passed its use-by
date and he was reluctant to spend money on a new one.
A patch of sloping ground met his requirements. He often
parked there and had developed a knack for getting the
car started by running forward in neutral and engaging second
gear when he‟d got up enough momentum.
He left the car and hurried over the wet grass beneath a
black umbrella, splashing short-sightedly through puddles.
He was a big man – some might say fat. His sandy-colored
hair showed no trace of grey and his face still bore the
childhood freckles that stubbornly refused to leave him.
The face was boyish but his movements were those of an
overweight, middle-aged man.
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