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Mr Box spotted a rest stop ahead. A small service station with fuel, air, water, a 7-Eleven and small fifties diner. The service area was beat-up and rundown, with great swathes of debris and dust blowing across the forecourt. Mr Box pulled his car into a quiet spot close to the road and away from the fuel tanks. He reversed the car so it faced the highway at an angle, with the tail pointing towards the desert. He turned off the engine, removed his seatbelt and reached inside the glovebox. He took out the black box he'd found under the passenger seat and opened the driver door. He stepped out and rested the box on the roof of the car, the paintwork hot to the touch. He removed his jacket and folded it over. He ducked inside the car and pulled the boot release. He carried box and jacket
