Manolis prised four mismatched gloves from the sticky, tangled agglomeration of rubber and latex. He handed two to Sparrow. They snapped them on, then each selected an evidence bag and began extracting items, laying them out one by one on Onions’s impressively large desk, careful not to mix them. The bags were unmarked, though it was assumed Onions knew the owner of each.

Examining the first bag, Sparrow extracted clothes, stationery, three dog-eared paperbacks, a chrome wristwatch, a stainless-steel thumb ring, an overcrowded key ring, sunglasses, headphones, a pocket torch, a toiletry bag, batteries and guitar picks. Manolis’s bag contained a bar of soap, bandages, painkillers, sunscreen, sunburn ointment, ginseng, a hat, a T-shirt, trousers, shoes, socks, nail clippers, a comb, hair gel and a jar of face-whitening cream.

‘Some people, after they lose everything, try desperately to re-gather it all,’ Onions said. ‘Others realise they can never replace what’s gone and learn to live with what’s important.’ He sat back in his chair and rotated his signet ring, which was set with a black bevelled stone, an onyx.

The officers had barely gotten through half the contents of their respective bags before the owner of each became clear. But it was the final three items, buried in the depths of one bag, that proved the most unexpected – and valued.

A full roll of black gaffer tape, a purse and a mobile phone.

Onions pointed a slender finger at the phone. ‘Phones, cameras and assorted electronica aren’t allowed in the facility, so that’s contraband. We sourced the number, then asked the phone company the name of the owner to which it was registered.’

This was, again, police work by proxy. Manolis would have done precisely the same. He was surprised at the investigative power the detention centre wielded. But he reminded himself it was simply another institution of government, albeit at the forefront of the supposed war against foreign invaders. At least now he could independently verify the phone owner’s information and confirm with the company.

‘It turns out this phone is registered to one Margaret Abbott,’ said Onions. ‘Also known as Molly.’

A gust of wind escaped Manolis’s lungs. ‘And I take it that’s her purse?’

‘Correct,’ said Onions.

Manolis opened the purse, checked inside. It was devoid of cash but still held identification, business cards, bankcards. The plastic sleeve was empty, without even a single photo of a loved one.

‘But wait,’ Onions added, ‘there’s more.’

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a single piece of A4 paper with official government letterhead.

‘It turns out the owner of this bag had his third and final visa application rejected last Friday morning. That was his last chance to stay in Australia. He’s now due to be deported within thirty days. Molly had been helping him with his application. And can you guess why it was rejected?’