A hot flush of panic pooled in Manolis’s stomach, and tension spidered through his veins. He regarded the striking Englishman who now sat motionless, silently watching the tearoom floor. There seemed no reason to doubt his story, as impossible as it sounded. Regardless, Manolis made a note to check Cook’s background, place of birth and full criminal history. Did it start with driving, drug and alcohol offences and end with arson, or were those just the beginning? Was there assault, grievous bodily harm, violence against women? Was there more behind Molly’s reason to end their relationship? Or was there something more political, against the state?

Cook’s punishment was another matter. He was a product of Australian society, yet the solution was to ship him abroad…?

‘At least you’d be going to Britain,’ Manolis said. ‘There are detainees who dodged bombs and pirates and nearly drowned to get here. Every day, they fear being returned to war zones in Iraq and Syria and Afghanistan.’

Cook looked up, his eyes shiny and moist. ‘But they’re not Australian,’ he said firmly. ‘I am.’

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

‘JUST A MOMENT… your surname – Manolis, was it? What country is that from?’

Manolis cocked his head. The direct and personal nature of Cook’s question had caught him off guard. The suspect answered the questions – they didn’t bloody ask them.

‘It’s Greek,’ Manolis replied. ‘My father came to Australia after the war.’

‘Ah, the war,’ said Cook. ‘A topic close to every Brit’s heart. They fairly romanticise it nowadays. But it was a massive humanitarian disaster, tens of millions displaced in Europe alone.’

‘Dad wasn’t so much displaced,’ said Manolis. ‘He just saw a tired old country and compared it to a new country far away from invasion and conflict.’

‘My family did too. So you and I are more alike than we realise.’

Manolis sucked on his teeth. ‘Except that I was born here. I’m an Australian citizen, not a Greek one.’

‘That’s just luck. Do you speak Greek?’

‘I do.’

‘And you can get a Greek passport? Through your dad?’

Manolis paused. ‘Yes,’ he said warily.

‘You just never have. It’s an oversight.’

In mild frustration, Manolis leafed through his notepad. ‘It’s not a requirement, no. It’s optional. However, I suspect that if I went to live permanently in Greece, I probably would have. It only makes sense.’

Cook inspected the back of his hand, thick with blue veins. ‘I must say, though, it’s incredible to see how the Greeks are dealing with this latest refugee crisis, with all the boats arriving across the Mediterranean. For such a poor country to show such compassion and understanding, it’s rather astonishing. How is it that a country with so little to give can show such humanity?’

Manolis looked at Cook directly. Why would he know or care about such details with all his own problems?