We took the train up to Warwick, where teams of men in reflective suits surrounded huge double-trailer trucks loaded with sea containers. An enormous drill had been set up in the southern car park, and it appeared to be drilling under the entire complex. Great sheets of the concrete had been pummelled and discarded at the top of the drill's blade, and I could see how deep the project was going from the various colours of soil that were erupting from the top of the contraption. The sound generated by all the work was deafening, the level of noise was almost loud enough to make it difficult to see.

The police had set up a barricade some distance from the place, at one point just on the other side of Beach Road. Old Steve and I followed the wall of tape and spray-painted Federal Police cars around to the closest place to the drilling we could get without being noticed, and we noticed another vehicle parked just by Erindale Road. Smaller than the rest, a single canvass-covered trailer, it was partially obscured by swathes of people clothed in Hazmat suits.