Mike Dixon

He awoke and looked around. The horse had stopped in
front of an old house with an iron roof and verandas. It
looked familiar, like in the dream. But it wasn‟t as big as it
was then and it didn‟t smell of fresh paint. The windows
were broken and the door was hanging off its hinges. David
got down from the horse and walked to the steps.
The smell of bird was overpowering. He went inside and
looked around. The rooms were stacked with cages. Most
were empty but the droppings in them were fresh. He was
reminded of the conversation he had overheard between
Noelene and Daryl. She had warned him that his illegal ac-
tivities could cost them dearly.
The point of the warning was not that they should fear the
police but they should fear the people they worked for. The
people who employed Noelene and Daryl would not tolerate
an employee who attracted unwanted attention through a
venture into petty crime.
David identified the remaining birds as juvenile cockatoos.
Tim had once pointed to a flock of them in the Brindabella
Ranges outside Canberra, saying they would be worth a mil-
lion bucks if they were taken to Tokyo or New York. The