(WOMAN SPEAKS THAI)
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
(DOOR BEEPS)
(MAN SPEAKS THAI)
My name is Dean Canetti, and I think the technical term...
..for your situation, Gary, is what we call 'rooted'.
Wrong country for half a kilo of smack in your Louis Vuitton.
You planted it, as you bloody well know.
You're looking down the barrel of 20 years.
You know, we got 30 bodies to a 4-man cell.
You got rats crawling up your arse.
Or...your flight leaves in 90 minutes,
and you go back to your swanky apartment
and your small-penis-compensating convertible
if you talk to me.
Feel free to name names.
Levesque. No?
Transquik?
It was planted.
Alright, enjoy your stay at the Bangkok Hilton, Gary.
GARY: Wait.
WOMAN OVER P.A.: Can I have your attention, please?
This is the final boarding call for all passengers on Flight TG 141
from Bangkok direct to Melbourne.
Your flight is now boarding from...
Thank you, Mr Connors.
Dave, you there? Dave, we got him.
Rolled and boned him. Wait till you see it.
He spilled his guts. There are intestines everywhere.
This'll hang the teflon bastard when we get it out there.
Just hang on a sec.
CANETTI: You there?
Yeah, no, no, no, I'm just, you know,
making sure young Gary gets home safe and sound.
He's no good to us dead, right?
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
(METALLIC RATTLING)
('RED RIGHT HAND' BY NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS)
SONG: J' Take a little walk to the edge of town
J' And go across the tracks
J' Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom
J' As it shifts and cracks
J' Where secrets lie in the border fires
J' In the humming wires
J' Hey, man, you know you're never coming back
J' Past the square, past the bridge
J' Past the mills, past the stacks
J' On a gathering storm comes a tall, handsome man
J' In a dusty black coat with a red right hand. J'
(RACE CALLER ANNOUNCES RACE ON THE CAR RADIO)
JACK: It's like a munchkin convention.
MAN: Jockeys without horses - never looks right.
RACE CALLER: But he's not going to get there.
Pax Americana's racing away the last little bit.
Strides away and wins it by...
it's not much of a turnout. Mid-week races at Pakenham.
Dougie'd understand.
Is that the widow?
Yeah. Talk about lucky.
She was at a hens' night, sticking $50 bills in a Chippendale's G-string
while Dougie snored through the house fire.
Hmm...
Well, he probably couldn't reach the smoke alarm to change the batteries.
Who's the white shoe with the tan?
Ricky Kirsch.
From Brisvegas.
Mm, obviously racked with grief.
Reflex action.
Ricky made his first million in the fruit business.
(BAGPIPES PLAY SORROWFUL MUSIC)
(CHILD CRIES)
(PEOPLE SING) J' ..always see it through
J' Win or lose, we do or die
J' In defeat, we'll always try
J' Fitzroy, Fitzroy
J“ The club we hold so dear
J' Premiers we'll be this year... J'
A bar fighter, your father, Jackie.
Labourer and a bar fighter.
J' We wear the colours maroon and blue... J'
(DOOR OPENS)
MAN: Harry?
See you in the members.
What happened to quarantine prohibiting cane toads leaving Queensland?
Ricky Kirsch? Yeah, I saw him.
What's he doing down here?
I gather he's not exactly on Racing Queensland's Christmas card list.
Talk of race fixing.
How'd we go in the fifth? Pax Americana.
BOTH: Half a length.
HARRY: Wouldn't be dead for quits.
MAN: Jack fuckin' Irish.
That's for you.
Ah, Brendan, you shouldn't have. Should he, Drew?
Brendan insisted on thanking you himself.
The Crown dropped all charges.
You're the bloke got the result, Jack.
If it weren't for you trackin' down those hookers
I was innocently banging in a three-way on the night of the murder,
I'd have had no alibi witnesses, would I?
My poor missus'd be visiting me in jail now.
Oh, it's a feelgood story all round.
BRENDAN: I'd donate a kidney for you, if you needed one.
I really hope you haven't, mate.
It's not mine, is it? A symbol of my gratitude.
My number's on the card there.
Anything you want, Jack, anytime, I'll fix it.
You know, a bottle of port would've done the trick.
I mean it.
'Grateful' don't even begin to cover what I feel.
Wanna have your babies, that's more like it.
Wanna have your bloody babies.
Righto.
Perks, Jack.
Perks. Yeah, thanks, mate. Thanks.
You lookin' for me?
Jacklfish. Well, I'll be buggered.
The last time I saw you, 'bout this high you were, in short pants.
Des Connors. How are ya, fella?
Des.
Yeah, look, the daughter-in-law's been driving me mad
about getting me will done,
and I happened to look up the phone books,
and I see this 'John Irish and I thought, “I wonder
And here you are. And by Christ, son, you're the dead spit of your old man.
Him and me were team-mates, you know, a long time ago.
And you would have to be a ruck-rover.
Oh, Des, I'm considered a bit of an evolutionary cul-de-sac
in the Irish family.
Anyway, come inside.
Hey, Jack?
You wouldn't happen to have a local round here, would you, mate?
And tell me, son, your mother, is she still sound?
Nah, she kicked the bucket, I'm afraid.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. That happens. it's a pity.
She was a good looker, your mum. She was.
I was with Bill the first day he spotted her.
But I guess you've heard that story a million times.
No. No, I haven't, actually.
Anyway, here we are, my other office.
Ah, Bill and I sank some frothies in here, back in the day.
Yeah, I bet you did.
Course, it's all changed since then.
(QUIETLY) The Fitzroy Youth Club.
Afternoon, gents.
(MEN MURMUR HELLO)
Can you give us a round, Stan? Sure, mate.
Des Connors.
Half-back flank, 53 games for the Roys.
Done your knee. What was that? Round 17, 1969, at Windy Hill?
(DISMISSIVELY) Just a player. Played with your old man, Jack.
Ah, yes, I did that.
But I was never in Bill lrish's league. Never.
One helluva a footballer was Bill Irish.
WILBUR: Deadset champion.
Prince among men. Godlike, he was.
A hard god. NORM: Legs like tree trunks.
STAN: What was he like, Des?
Yeah, you must have some stories.
His feet stunk. Hey?
He had very, very smelly feet, that fella.
Who gets the pot of gold, Des?
Everything's to go to a Judy Louise Connors.
That your daughter?
No,no,no, she's my daughter-in-law.
But she's a good lass. She looks out for me.
And not your son? Who, Gary?
Gary's bloody rubbish. They're divorced.
So you don't wanna include Gary? Include him?
He fuckin' included himself.
He's already got 60 grand belongs to me.
Floats in from Thailand, as large as life.
Hadn't seen him in yonks, and he cons me.
Got this mate of his. Got some inside mail on some shares.
Inside mail, my arse.
When was that? Oh, it would've been three months ago.
It was, as a matter of fact. It was the 4th of February, the wife's birthday.
That was gonna be me little nest egg, that, Jack.
I figured I had another dozen or so years left in me
before I hung up the boots once and for all.
What about your house? You own that?
No, no. Gary's mum give it to him.
Why did she not give it to you?
Oh, his lawyer went round and paid her a visit when she was crook in hospital.
She never had a clue what she was signing.
A woman from the bank come round the other day
and said that he'd defaulted on some loans
and he was using the house as security.
They're even talking bloody foreclosure.
47 years I've lived in that place, son.
47 years.
We could go and pay him a visit tomorrow, if you like, young Gary.
Oh, no, Jack. It's not your concern.
I don't mind the drive.
You can tell me a bit more about my old man.
Old Bill Irish, eh?
I could tell you some tales about him what would make your hair curl.
(HALF-LAUGHS)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
(RETCHES)
Opened the door and there were two boys in there, they've been shot.
They've been shot through the neck 'cause I saw it.
They're black, they've been there... They're black?
Hey, hey!
Hey, excuse me, you're not supposed to be back here, mate.
Excuse me, you're not supposed...
The Flower Pot Men, eh?
Ooh!
Hey, Lester.
Jack, how many for you? Just one, thanks.
What happened to two?
Uh, two went to Sydney.
Oh, Sydney.
To work on that, with the Pringle.
..Of the top ten rich list.
Linda Hillier met the maverick mogul on the move.
LINDA: Those in the know say Steven Levesque is more
than mere corporate kingpin.
He's a political kingmaker
with a direct line to the highest offices in the land.
Well, I see the PM very occasionally, Linda, usually at $1, 500-a-plate dinners,
You know, beef and chicken affairs, that sort of thing.
LINDA: But how do you respond, Mr Levesque,
to those who say the Attorney-General, a former colleague of yours,
is incapable of choosing...
There she is, number two.
Looks good, Jack.
JACK: Yeah.
Malcolm does share my weakness for Borelli sevenfold ties,
so he can't go far wrong, can he?
So the fact that one of your companies, Fincham Air,
last year won the Middle East supply and surveillance contract
owes nothing to your relationship with the party?
Sic the smarmy poonce, Linda!
LEVESQUE: If you're into conspiracy theories, Linda
I should tell you that Osama bin Laden isn't dead
and he's sunbaking by my pool at my holiday house as we speak.
Is that the Caribbean one the Attorney-General stayed in last July?
Aha!
LINDA: From humble beginnings growing up
in the hard-bitten suburbs of Melbourne...
There'll be another two, Jack.
Oh, it might be the end of my tvvos, Lester.
You only get so many tvvos.
..Steven Levesque's rise to the top has been meteoric.
His corporate reach...
WOMAN: Feel free to call us
if you have any questions and we'll keep in touch.
Yeah, I'll have some questions. Don't worry about that.
JACK: Old fella.
They made $6 billion profit last year,
and now they're threatening to auction off me little two-bedroom weatherboard,
the dirty, rotten bastards.
(INTERCOM BEEPS)
Here, cop these, son.
Gary gave his mum a spare set. Oh.
Well, the mail's gone. He must've been here.
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
Jesus, this is bloody posh.
What did the bastard need my 60 grand for?
(ELECTRONICS BEEP)
(MOTORS WHIRR)
The use-by date's three months old.
That'd be right. That'd be right.
Reflux and a sex life, by the looks of things.
Yeah, he once tried to pimp his ex-wife off to his boss.
Nearly finished up rootin' her little sister, the prick.
Well, that does give me a bit of a feel for Gary.
Yeah, well, I might take this opportunity to water the old horse.
(PHONE SPEED-DIALS NUMBER)
(RINGING TONE)
She was a false alarm. That was a dry run.
WOMAN ON PHONE: Welcome to Transquik. Please hold.
Is that Gary? Yeah.
Afghanistan. Used to be SAS.
Don't worry, mate. We'll find him.
Yeah.
(COUNTRY MUSIC)
SONG: J' Heaven is my woman's love. .. J'
Do we have to listen to this, Harry?
I'll have you know Col Joye was huge in his day.
What day are we talking? Medieval, huh?
Enough of that, philistine.
Give Jack the run-down.
Vision Divine - 12-year-old, lightly raced,
44 starts, 5 wins, 6 seconds, and 8 thirds.
Another nag from the nursing home?
He hasn't placed in 18 months, but now he's got his kick back.
Got heart, too. Game old bugger.
Hopefully, the books won't see us coming.
Think there's a killer harp solo coming up.
J' And when I see her in the morning light
J' I feel the same as in. .. J'
(THUNDER RUMBLES)
See the tote gets it when they start heading for the gates.
Tell the yokels to start dribbling it on after the first.
We'll be pissing on a lot of people's barbies today.
CALLER ON THE RADIO: He comes off pretty impressive wins
at Healesville and Cranbourne in his last couple of runs.
Take note, there's a late scratching coming through...
Well, I can say this about Vision Divine.
He's certainly got surprise in his favour.
Well, if looks mattered, Jack,
there wouldn't have been four Mrs Harry Strange.
Who's the hoop? Johnny Chernov. He's on a streak.
Best country hoop going round, Johnny Chernov.
You know, the only good thing about your weather, Harry -
turns on the high beams.
Anyhoo, good luck, Harry.
And I hope you got him each way.
RACE CALLER: So the 12-year-old Vision Divine to come up to the barriers.
They're just about set to go.
(MEN ALL TALK AT ONCE)
Starter up on his platform.
Cam! I got it at 20s!
Ready to run.
And they're racing.
Burnbank Boy and Vision Divine jump out of the gate.
Burnbank Boy leads with about a hundred metres to go
from Clancy's Angel.
Sir Rocco running on, Vision Divine cannot get a run.
Johnny Chernov's gotta get a pocket.
But as they go down to the line, it's Burnbank Boy racing away,
and he won it by two lengths from Sir Rocco,
CIancy's Angel got up to run third,
and just behind those a little way was Vision Divine.
Give Johnny Chernov a call.
I think it's time we had our own stewards inquiry.
So the man who finds the scum of the earth,
man who breaks his parents' hearts.
Horses and criminals...
..that's his life.
Oh, too late to break his parents' hearts.
And, sometimes, the criminals are on the horses.
God! Even the back?
Only removalists are ever gonna see that.
You see plywood on the back of a Stradivarius violin?
Did you miss me, Charlie?
What I miss? I miss someone who finishes the little jobs I give him.
The little tables.
A day's work for a man who actually works.
(BEETHOVEN'S 'SYMPHONY NO. 7')
Fancy a quiet one at the pub?
No.
My granddaughter cooked me dinner.
Big game tomorrow.
They think, “Old buggers, no chance.”
What do those pishers know about bowls?
How old are these youngsters, Charlie, more or less?
60, 65, around that.
Bloody pishers! They should have their own junior league.
BARRY: God, it's hard to know if it's the bowls colliding
or their hips cracking.
I find it hard to know why Carol left you, Barry.
Jam it up your arse.
So, this favour.
Your bloke, Gary Connors, travelling through raghead country.
Mm!
Purchases in Dubai, and another one on the stopover in Bangkok.
Went three months ago, 1st of Feb.
And nothing since?
(BURPS)
Was that a 'no'?
He's dead or in hiding is my guess.
Right. Is that everything? No.
You're in luck.
Tax department did an audit.
Shitload of travel claims.
Middle East mostly.
So, what's the story with you and the cast of 'Cocoon'?
Show them pishers, Charlie.
Toothless beat ruthless!
Klostermann Gardier, Aviation SF, Airbound Services.
This mean anything to you?
Shit, I can't be arsed doing me own job. I'm not gonna do yours.
Where'd you get that bun, anyway?
Clubhouse.
You realise that is their morning tea, don't you?
Police presence at a major sporting event comes at a price, Jack.
So, Gary Connors works for the Levesque Group companies.
All shells, with two exceptions - Cayman Islands, Cook Islands, Andorra.
Registered in one place, owners in another.
Companies owned by companies who are owned by companies
who are owned by companies - Russian dolls.
The exceptions - Klostermann Gardier, a private bank in Luxembourg,
and Airbound Services in Tampa, Florida.
51% owned by an Australian company, Fincham Air,
part-owned by Cross Trice Holdings.
Problem?
Do you always talk this fast?
Do you always listen this slow?
Right, so, um...Fincham Air, that's Levesque, isn't it?
Yes.
As is Transquik Australia, freight company.
Connors is on their payroll. They're Cross Trice's biggest company.
Steven Levesque is CEO of one, chairman of the other.
It's all in my report.
You know, all this information's readily available, Mr Irish.
You could've done this yourself, you know.
You're very wrong about that, Ms Bendtsen.
Bendtsen? Bendtsen? What is that, Danish?
(M UTTER INDISTINCTLY)
OK, so, what do I owe you?
Um...hour's work, $120.
Just, um...make it a hundred.
Cheers.
Welcome to Transquik. Please hold.
Jack Irish for Gary Connors, thanks.
We don't have a Gary Connors working here.
Who did you make the appointment with?
Uh, maybe I could speak to someone in HR.
Thank you for holding. How can I help?
WOMAN: Mr Irish?
I'm afraid there is no Gary Connors working here.
Oh, in Dubai, is he?
Or Bangkok?
Mr Connors left the organisation some time ago.
How long have you been in HR here at Trans...
I'm actually with the legal department.
Ah, they sent the lawyer down.
If there's nothing else, M r Irish ...
So I should probably go and find Gary Connors
over at Fincham Air maybe?
I don't know who that is. You don't know Fincham Air?
An associate company part-owned by Transquik?
Security? Really?
We're gonna have to ask you to leave the premises, sir.
Yeah, righto.
(DOOR BEEPS)
Yes, Mr Levesque, please.
It's important.
(PHONE RINGS)
Irish.
Jack, it's me. Listen, this weekend isn't gonna happen.
Everything's in freefall up here.
MP chair-sniffing sex scandal.
Wow. Stories like that, it's more a calling than an occupation.
I don't have a choice about these things.
Well, I better let you go, then.
We're pretty much falling freely down here as well.
You know, floor looming up and all.
(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)
(HANGS UP)
MAN: Could I just see you in your positions, please?
LINDA: You've reached Linda Hillier. Please leave a message.
(BEEP)
(SIGHS)
The chairs in my parlour seem empty and bare...
(DOOR CLATTERS SHUT)
What time do you call this?
Ungodly.
Utterly ungodly. (CHUCKLES)
We're looking for Jack Irish.
CHARLIE: Haven't seen him for a long time.
Heard he go away.
SECURITY GUARD: Is that right?
(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)
Bit of a carpenter, are we?
I'm a cabinet-maker.
Cabinet-maker is to carpenter as Rolex is to sundial.
(CHUCKLES)
Well, next time you see Jack Irish, old man,
perhaps you could pass on this message.
Hey! What are you doing?!
I'll call the police!
(SORROWFUL MUSIC)
Oh, Charlie.
(MOANS) Oh, careful.
That's my bowling hand.
(HALF-LAUGHS)
(CHUCKLES)
Should've been me, Charlie.
Yeah. Oh!
I prefer that.
(HALF-LAUGHS)
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(DOOR OPENS)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
You wanna tread carefully with Transquik, Jack.
It's the big end of town.
All the towns.
Yeah, well, whoever did this better have backup.
The name's Dave.
Dave? Well, it's not really enough, is it?
Probably get one of these made in a booth at the airport.
Probably could.
How'd you go at Werribee? Yeah, it's a mug's game, mate.
My horses are still racing.
The old man gonna be alright?
Nicorette?
No.
So, what's your interest in Gary Connors, mate?
I'm doing his father's will.
You?
Well, I'm trying to close a file on a tedious investigation,
and I'm thinking many hands make light work.
We could help each other out.
Oh, I was never much good at team sports, Dave.
Oh, fair enough.
(HALF-LAUGHS) Look at these gutless pricks.
You know...
..if these boys want snow in Darwin, Jack, it falls.
DREW: Youth Club are quiet tonight.
Another bottle of Chateau Disappointment?
Hey, Jack, did I tell ya?
Had a bloke come in this morning. Wants to buy the pictures.
Pictures? What pictures?
The photos. All this junk.
ERIC: Bloke?
What kind of a bloke? Brisbane Lions bloke.
Yeah, he reckons all the photos should be up in Brisbane.
They got a big luxury clubhouse.
Lions Wall of Fame in the bistro.
Lions Wall of Fame?
What Lions would those be, Stan?
Well, the way he put it, Norm,
with the Fitzroy Football Club's in Brisbane now...
This could get ugly. Yeah.
Stanley, would you like me to show you a map?
Fitzroy Football Club is not in Brisbane.
And why is that, Stanley?
Steady, Eric. Pretty good price he offered, too.
Because Fitzroy Football Club is in Fitz-bloody-Roy!
There you go, boys. WILBUR: My bloody oath!
Best to depart before somebody bursts a colostomy bag.
This is bloody Nuremberg stuff, this is.
DREW: So, take it you saw Linda
tangling with Steven Levesque the other night?
Mm.
How is Linda?
Oh, the toast of Sydney, apparently.
Melbourne hates success - doesn't match the weather.
Mate of mine up there saw her with Rod Pringle, at some TV do.
Yeah.
They're work colleagues.
He kissed her ear.
Well, they kiss everything in television, don't they?
(CHUCKLES) Yeah.
The ear? Really?
Mouth's better than the ear.
Your aunty can kiss you on the mouth.
Mm.
Hasn't been back in six weeks.
Go fight for her, mate.
Lay low in Sydney from this Transquik/Gary Connors business.
No, I can't. Not after what happened to Charlie.
(SCOOTER HORNS BEEP REPEATEDLY)
(BEETHOVEN'S 'SYMPHONY NO. 7')
CHARLIE: Not one piece of furniture in this place handmade.
Well, that is definitely the real crisis in our public hospital system, Charlie.
Look at that. Ugh. Yeah.
That's a start.
Uh, the doctor said to take it easy, didn't he?
The old man should be retired.
Mm.
But now he goes on,
teaches something to this nuisance person
who walk in off the street, wastes his time,
won't go away, like a cat.
Can you help me please, with this?
You really don't need to work, Charlie.
Jack“.
..Make something, look at it, and be happy.
The work it took...
..that's not work.
SONG: J' Heaven is my woman's love
J' Happiness is what she gives
J' As long as she's with me, I 'II find
J' Heaven every day I live. .. J'
HARRY: Interesting choice of venue.
Nobody'll see us here.
Been looking at the Werribee video, Johnny.
Don't like it at all.
Don't like the way you got lost, in the crowd at the turn.
So tell the stewards.
Or ride the fuckin' things yourself.
It's polite to ask, Johnny.
And, yes, we do mind.
Now, Johnny, we've come all this way
to beautiful downtown Dingley Shopping Town
to give you a one-time-only opportunity to explain why you lost the race
in which people trusted you with their money.
I could be dead tomorrow.
Jesus, dead tonight.
Did you hear about Pat Moss?
Car knocked him 20 metres.
Miracle if he rides again.
Broken leg, ribs, collarbone, hip.
I read about that.
Do you think Dougie Armit's house fire was an accident?
You wanna give us a name?
I think we know the name.
Alright, well, let's get this over with.
No, there's no call for that.
So, what, you want the dough you dropped?
You got a hundred grand on you, have you, Johnny?
No, tea's on me, Mr Strang.
I'm touched.
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
JACK: Transquik is running a black market operation.
Oh.
Hi.
This article you found by Stuart Wardle.
What do we know about this guy? Uh, did we... Why...
I mean, I'm not sure who his sources are,
but he's ruffling some pretty serious feathers.
Transquik, Cross Trice Holdings.
PlusOneDotCom? No, don't. Don't look.
Just remind me how 'Danish Blue' fits into this?
I didn't see that in here. Well, I... That...
What...
I see you've cut down on your words per minute, Miss Bendtsen.
You're my first conversation in three days.
Danish Blue is pretty catchy.
You're obviously trying to attract lovers of smelly cheese.
If I give you background on Wardle, will you go?
Yeah, I just need a contact.
Well, Wardle actually writes one of the better-read blogs,
if you're a fan of military industrial complex conspiracies, and who isn't?
Who isn't?
Yeah.
I'm just gonna print his address now.
He actually exposed the connection
between Klostermann Bank and Transquik.
Oh, you're into Zumba. (THUD!)
Ow! Can you not read that?
It just came up.
Well, it's on the printer. You can get it on your way out.
OK.
Thanks.
I actually love romantic weekend drives in the country myself.
'Bye! See ya.
(INTERCOM BEEPS)
WOMAN ON INTERCOM: Yes?
Uh, yeah, looking for a Stuart Wardle.
Uh, not here. Sorry.
Oh.
It's about his article that claims
Steven Levesque is in with the Afghan opium trade.
Got ID?
Yeah.
Got my, uh... got my Law Institute card.
I'm not sure how much that reassures me.
Well, it definitely doesn't reassure me.
How about a video card?
Ah, cheers.
Hi. Hi.
Come in. Thanks.
Sorry, I thought you might've been muscle.
I, uh, just got back from quite a delicate assignment.
I don't usually fall under suspicion of being muscle.
You take up enough room.
I'm on a deadline for an exhibition.
Lyall Cronin.
Is this you?
The gallery wants these yesterday and I still can't decide.
What is it the dervishes say? Freedom is the absence of choice.
I thought that was Pol Pot.
Are you expecting Stuart back anytime soon?
No, I haven't heard from him in a while.
I was away, working in Yemen. I got back and he wasn't here.
Is that unusual?
No, not really.
We're always passing each other at 30,000 feet
en route to some other assignment.
Uh, so you and he are...? Housemates.
With benefits.
Lapsed benefits.
I keep thinking he's just gonna walk through the door.
How long's it been?
Three months.
Left-wing web journalism obviously pays well.
Well, right-wing parents help. Hm.
This is it.
Wow, mission control, hey?
Oh, Missing Persons was here. I'm not sure if they took anything.
Oh, right. So he's officially missing, is he?
They checked the airlines and found that he'd flown to Auckland.
His photo's been on TV there, in all the papers.
No-one's seen him.
There are places in the world that a journalist goes missing.
New Zealand's not one of them.
And what about messages on the machine?
Erased.
By who? Don't know.
Is this the business line? Yeah.
I didn't wanna disconnect it, just in case.
CAN ETTI: You've called Dean Canetti. Leave a message.
Do you know a Dean Canetti?
vaguely-
Stuart had teed up a meeting with him.
I get the feeling you've done this kind of thing before, Mr Irish.
Oh, I'm just trying to help a friend.
And there's this connection between this bloke I'm looking for
and a European bank called Klostermann Gardier.
From Stuart's article?
Yeah.
He said that was a name that could get people killed.
Right.
Rightio, well, thanks, Lyall.
You've got my number, if you think of anything.
I wouldn't get your hopes up about Stuart's hard drive.
He was a stickler for passwords and encryption.
Oh, well, it's worth a try.
If only to give you a reason to come back.
'Bye.
So I'm the stake-out, taking a leak against the back tyre,
you know, big relief.
Fucker sticks a shotgun right between me shoulder blades.
JACK: Oh.
Anyway, so I'm standing there with me crotch python hanging out,
such as it is, frostbitten,
I do my quickest hip turn, which even I'll admit probably ain't that quick.
You're wasting your time, there. Those things throw like dead cheeks.
So I turn around, I'm pissing all over him,
bit of a scuffle breaks out, gun goes off along with half his face.
That's a lovely story, mate.
Yeah, they offered me counselling, but I'd already rooted her twice.
Double 16.
Give a bloke half a chance.
I need a slash.
Hold my dick?
So I found two Dean Canettis.
Toddler from Alice... (FARTS)
..and a Middle East market consultant from butt-fuck Melbourne.
So which one did you want?
I'd be careful here, Jack.
Why's that?
Canetti used to be a Fed, but he's fallen off the radar.
My advice?
Blind eye.
(TENSE MUSIC)
(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS REPEATEDLY)
Mrs Canetti?
Do you mind if I ask you about Dean's work?
Middle East market consultant. What is that?
Import/expert...l thought.
Now I don't know.
Do you believe that?
Been married eight years and not even know what my husband does.
How can he just be missing?
On the phone, you said men came to tell you.
Who were they? The police?
Didn't say.
You don't ask, do you?
They said Dean might've had an accident...
..that he was doing secret work.
For the government?
They said I couldn't tell anyone.
He said we'd be taken care of.
Mortgage paid out, all that.
“Take the money, don't tell anyone, end of story.
“Just forget your husband.”
Just forget their father.
When you last spoke, did he give you an idea of what he was doing?
He called from Bangkok.
All he said was, “A few more days with this bastard Connors and I'm home.
“Black Tide's over.”
You sure he said 'Connors'? Yeah.
And “Black Tide”, do you know what that was?
Knew the name. Didn't know what.
I asked Dean about it once and he turned on me.
Said, "Forget you heard it. Don't ever mention Black Tide to anyone.”
What the hell's it matter now?
(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)
Irish.
DAVE: If you keep walking towards the kerb, Jack, there's a car waiting for you.
Who's this?
Oh, they've got Meryl Canettl under surveillance, mate.
You walked right into it.
Jack, this is Ray. He works for me.
Jack.
Who's 'they', Dave? And why have 'they' got her under surveillance?
Canetti was doing a job for us.
We know he cleared Customs at Tulla.
Since then he's gone dark. Nicorette?
No.
Was Canetti following Gary Connors?
Hop in, mate. I wanna show you something.
That Beechcraft taking off's part of the Fincham Air fleet.
They fly in and out of here three times a week.
Thatone?
Aviation SF.
RAY: They do the midnight run from Darwin.
Drugs, is it?
Mm-hm.
Well, we could pull the cargo and the pilot out of the plane now.
Still wouldn't give us Levesque.
Fact is Transquik's got unlimited resources...
..and I've got three men.
You're the fourth, Jack.
But I don't work for you, Dave.
If you find Gary Connors, call me.
This thing's secure. Sounds like I'm under water.
That's 'cause you're hearing me off a satellite,
talking through electronic condoms.
Hit 1-2 to call me anytime.
Course, even with condoms, you can still get pregnant.
That's how I wound up married.
(CAR ENGINE REVS HARD)
Shit!
Floor it, Ray! Go!
(GUNFIRE)
Get your head down, Jack!
(GUNFIRE CONTINUES)
Ray! Ray! No, no!
We're fish in a fuckin' barrel here!
Soon as I move, you run! You run for cover!
You don't look back! You got it? Go!
(INTENSE MUSIC)
Police, drop your weapon!
Drop your weapon now!
(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)
Dave?
DAVE: Better make your own way home, Jack.
I'll clean up here. Don't expect to see this on the news.
SONG: J' Do you miss me tonight?
J' Are you sorry
J' We drifted apart?
J' Does your memory... J'
Is that Kamahl?
They were out of Elvis at the airport.
J' When I kissed you and called you... J'
I wanted to tell you myself.
I didn't look for it. It just happened.
And it's, uh...it's over now.
J' ..in your parlour seem empty and bare? J'
(TURNS MUSIC OFF)
And I'm feeling a bit soiled and stupid.
So I collected my things.
I don't know if you'll ever wanna see me again.
You could let me know about that.
Or not.
Why did it have to be the bloody Pringle?
Look, I know I screwed up, but admit it.
You couldn't wait to bundle me off to Sydney...
Yeah, right, I bundled you off.
If you'd just once made me feel like you wanted me to stay.
Of course I wanted you to stay. Then why didn't you say it?
And if I'd said something, you wouldn't have gone?
Of course I would've gone. It was a huge career opportunity.
But I wouldn't have screwed the Pringle.
Look, it always felt like you were still married,
and I was some guilty affair.
Well, I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?
(PHONE RINGS)
(CRIES)
(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS REPEATEDLY)
JACK ON ANSWERPHONE: You've called Jack Irish. Leave a message.
(PHONE BEEPS)
DES ON PHONE: Jack, it's, uh...it's Des Connors, mate.
Look, they've found Gary's car.
They pulled it out of the water near Phillip Island.
I always knew he'd come to a sticky, that lad.
Mm.
Someone's selling, but I'm not buying, Des.
They never found a body. Car could've been stolen, dumped.
Ah, I wasn't much of a dad,
but I could never find anything of me in him.
Not like you and Bill.
(SIGHS)
People have been saying that to me all my life.
Truth is, I have no idea who my old man was.
(HALF-LAUGHS)
Ah, I suppose I should be the grieving parent, Jack, but I just can't find it in me.
All I can think of is I've done all me dough
and now I look like losing this old house.
You're staying in this house, Des.
You'll be leaving feet first,
only after you got your telegram from the Queen, OK?
Ah, Bill lrish's boy. Thank you, son. Thank you.
Yeah.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(SCOOTER HORNS BEEP REPEATEDLY)
(POIGNANT MUSIC CONTINUES)
Of course, Monet was famous for his water lilies.
(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)
Well, hello there.
Mm, my learned friend.
You expecting more muscle?
Uh, no, lighting fires. Mm.
Essentially a male preserve.
Yes, and we'd like to hang onto it.
Not many preserves left. Good. Off you go.
I have to confess to vaguely false pretences.
Really? Mm.
I haven't remembered anything at all useful.
Oh!
That's a bit bloody cheeky, isn't it?
You think you can just get away
with wasting a high-powered suburban solicitor's time like that?
Here.
Shit!
Oh, no!
I've spilt your fancy wine.
That's alright. it's not that fancy.
They do say to let it breathe...
..anyway, don't they?
Yeah, they do.
LYALL: You know, I enquired about you.
JACK: Did you now? Mm-hm.
You are described as a person of dubious reputation.
Oh!
Really? Mm-hm.
That's what they say.
You can't argue with 'they', can you?
'They' seem to know everything.
Did you enquire about me?
I come from a simpler time, Lyall, before Google.
That's quite a collection of things you've got there.
Mm, they were gifts, from Stuart.
The tackier the souvenir, the better. Been to some pretty exotic places.
New York, Istanbul, Phillip Island. (CHUCKLES)
I know. Every trip, a new one would bob up.
It was our thing.
He was quite the romantic.
Oh, right. So a bit more than just housemates with benefits, then?
Mm.
He asked me to marry him once. Aha.
I didn't take him seriously. I thought it was the orgasm speaking.
I actually laughed.
Oh.
I wish I hadn't laughed.
Ah, well, it'll be alright. Maybe one day.
No. No, he's gone.
So tell me about the Irish women.
Well... Mmm?
..Until recently, I was a bit of a Trappist monk.
Oh, really? Yeah.
So you've renounced your vow of chastity?
Yeah, I thought it was for the best.
Mmm.
Phone or I'll stalk you.
'Bye.
Jack! One mention of “Black Tide”. Senate. Three years ago. Mysterious.
I'm double-parked.
You know, one day, we should have a proper conversation
with adjectives and things.
'Mysterious' is an adjective. I see you're all dressed up, Danish Blue.
A lunch date, perhaps? Divorced, two kids. Him, not me.
You don't think too velvety? No such thing.
Great.
So, Drew, my friend, have a listen to this from Senator Backbench Nobody.
MAN ON RECORDING: Can the Honourable Senator confirm
that, recently, a Federal Police task force operation called “Black Tide”
was closed down under pressure from the highest level of government?
Now, do you wanna hear Hansard's verbatim record of that?
Oh, it's like you just read my mind.
“Can the Honourable Senator confirm
“that, recently, an important Federal Police operation
“was cancelled on financial grounds?”
Seems Black Tide's missing.
They've changed Hansard, Drew.
Hansard.
The Attorney-General got the liquid paper out.
Yeah, well, if they can change Hansard, they've got some pretty serious pull.
You want my advice, Jack?
Write the old man a cheque for 60 grand.
Yeah, you're right.
Can I borrow 60 grand?
RACE CALLER: And here's Bold Chino rocketing down the outside.
Bold Chino moved up, took the lead, and Bold Chino races home to win it.
Ricky Kirsch has got these horses going round on a bloody carousel.
Same thing at Werribee.
RACE CALLER: ..and, well back, Vision Divine.
Isn't that Dougie Armit's widow?
CAM: Yeah, woman can't bear being vertical for more than 10 minutes.
L-larTY-
Good to see you working your way through
the seven stages of grieving, Mrs Armit.
Suck on it, Harry.
How much do you reckon Mr Kirsch can make from a scam like this?
We got the tote figures.
80 Kirsch wins.
Mostly Queensland. It's millions, Jack.
I can live with people offering the hoops a quid.
But killin' and maimin' 'em's something else.
The banana bender's gotta go home.
Why are you looking at me?
Well, I mentioned the matter vaguely to Andrew Greer,
and he reckons there's a certain person could be helpful here.
Kind of person who'd give you a kidney, if you lost one.
So much for client privilege.
HARRY: Teamwork - that's what wins races.
(PHONE RINGS)
JACK ON ANSWERPHONE: You've called Jack Irish. Leave a message.
(BEEPU
LINDA ON PHONE: Jack Irish, speaking to the machine of. Linda Hillier.
Never really saw myself as a Linda.
Listen, you won't care - why should you? -
but I'm on the way out up here.
The Pringle wants me off the premises.
Finds it awkward having me around.
What's that saying?
“Never pee in your own handbag”?
Yeah, well, I need a new handbag.
Actually, I'd prefer an old one.
Goodnight, Jack Irish.
(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC PLAYS)
(JAZZ SAXOPHON E PLAYS)
(JAZZ MUSIC CONTINUES)
(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS REPEATEDLY)
(CAR DOOR CLOSES)
(CAR ENGINE STARTS)
CAM: So, what's on Phillip Island besides fairy penguins?
Hopefully, somebody who doesn't wanna be found.
Can you just try not to shoot me?
I'll see how I feel.
(TENSE MUSIC)
Locals, they picked the place pretty clean.
Yeah, I'm sure if the water tank wasn't made of concrete,
they would've pilfered that as well.
Good stuff, concrete. No rust.
Cam, turn around.
CAM: Don't tell me. I like surprises.
(RATS SQUEAK)
Oh, Christ!
Ohh.
Nasty?
Get off me.
Yeah.
Your bloke?
No, it's not Connors.
DAVE ON PHONE: G'day, Jack.
I just found Dean Canetti,
turned into consommé in a water tank on a farm in Phillip Island.
What farm?
Gary's ex-wife.
It's in her name.
See, what'd I tell you? Lack of resources.
Jesus, dead, eh?
I reckon that's enough cloak and dagger, Dave.
I'd like to know about Black Tide.
Well, I can't talk here, mate, but, uh, name a place.
How's the Mexican stand-off going?
Pistols at dawn, Jack.
Head up their arse, some people.
Yeah, can't see the elephant till it fans.
Hey.
It's good to see the Prince still its usual vibrant self, isn't it?
Nicorette?
I don't want a Nicorette.
You know, when Black Tide first started up, we were playing it by the book.
Just watching the drugs come in from Kabul by the plane and boatload.
I mean, Gary Connors was the glue,
but we were never gonna get near the prick.
And who shut you down?
Came from the top.
Cabinet level.
Oh, that's some nerve you touched. (HALF-LAUGHS) Yeah.
The Transquik nerve.
Levesque? Mm.
So when we fired Black Tide up again,
it had to be unofficial, but not without friends.
This time, we loaded Gary up with half a kilo of smack in Bangkok.
We stitched him up. Full confession.
Canetti did the job.
Next I hear from Canetti, he's gone rogue.
Won't hand over the memory card.
He wants to do a DIY WikiLeaks before Transquik's moles get a hold of it.
Yeah.
Now he's dead and Gary's gone AWOL.
Um...look, Dave, I'm...I'm out, mate.
It's all a little bit scary for me.
I think I might try and find some other way to help Gary's old man.
Jack, these people know who you are.
Mate, they know your friends, they know your loved ones.
They even know Gary's old man.
I've had to send Sarah and the kids away, mate.
I sleep in a no-star motel with a gun under my pillow.
Oh, yeah.
And your mark's on the slate.
These people want a clean slate.
So...
..unless we find Gary...
..we're dead men.
Did you find anything on Wardle's computer?
Can't this wait? That was him, wasn't it?
Who? PlusOneDotCom.
On the stairs. No... Don't...
Oh, look!
So the velvet worked, then?
Someone used a file shredder on Wardle's hard drive,
but I managed to trawl a few fragments.
Mostly audio.
Three trips a week flying from Qatar Air Base to Pine Gap...
..Eagle Ex was adding a heroin sweetener.
CANETTI: Go on.
CONNORS: Some of the smack was in transit for the States.
That's why they bought Leeton Stevedoring and...
Eagle wanted a complete loop from...
That's a data gap.
Right.
Steven's in blood up to his navel...
Right, and that's it.
Steven, as in Levesque? Well, whoever it is, doesn't say.
It's Gary Connors.
But we're gonna have to get the original of this
to make it stick, or find Gary himself.
Did you run those names? Eagle Ex, Leeton?
I will print the report if you promise to go.
I'm sure PlusOneDotCom doesn't mind waiting in his car.
BENDTSEN: Alright, all of these are companies
that are connected to, or owned by, Transquik and Steven Levesque.
Now go, please.
H Why? ave you got a back way outta here?
You're gonna have to tell PlusOne to meet you round the back.
You're staying at his place tonight.
Oh, no, we're not really at that stage yet.
I promise I won't think any less of you.
Come on. Alright.
(DOGS BARK OUTSIDE)
Dean Canetti's dead.
He's been shot.
Dean Canetti? As in Stuart's last phone call Dean Canetti?
Yeah.
And I don't think Stuart went to Auckland.
His passport might have.
Listen, you need to find somewhere else to live for a while.
Why?
Because these people can Mortein anything,
and the fact that I've been here just makes this place unsafe.
LYALL: Jack, I take photos in war zones all around the world.
Anywhere closer to home?
Don't look at those.
Don't, please?
Look, I...l know this looks bad, but... Oh, you reckon?
Well, try and see it from my point of view.
I mean, you came barging into my house,
nosing around after Stuart with nothing but a crappy Law Institute card,
and, what, I'm supposed to just take you on face value?
How'd you get these? I track insurgents for a living.
You think I can't follow you round Fitzroy?
Mm.
Look, you never confided in me. I didn't know who you really were...
What do you know about me now? What do these supposedly tell you?
You're not just some suburban lawyer for starters.
I mean, you could've been working for ASIO...
I work for a 75-year-old half-back flanker with dodgy knees.
Just find somewhere else to stay, OK?
Des! it's just me, mate.
I'm sorry it's so late. It's important.
I wasn't asleep, anyway.
You run out of dreams at my age, son. Come on in.
If Gary wanted to lay low for a while,
you know, maybe change his name, perhaps,
what do you reckon he'd change it to?
Mother's maiden name or something? Yeah.
Marjorie Rose Keegan. Keegan.
Where the bloody hell is it? It's here somewhere.
And did he have any nicknames as a kid?
Chook. Used to call himself 'Chook'.
Spent the school holidays down at a little chook farm,
belonged to the wife's cousin.
“Come back from there with two heads,” I used to tell him.
Why's that? Was it in Tassie or something?
Yeah, it was down near Launnie.
A dead-end spot down there, mate.
And do you remember your wife's cousin's name?
Oh, now, now, uh...
Yeah, she was one of the Painters.
Gary had a bit of a thing for the daughter, Glenda Painter.
Here, son. I'd like you to have that one.
I never, ever saw your old man back away from a fight.
But he couldn't be told, neither.
Were you there that night?
Uh, yes. Yes, I was.
I was inside on the dunny at the time,
and this joker runs in and he said, “Bill's dead.
“Cracked his head on the kerb.”
Gone to God. What for?
Bloody nothin'.
We've all got our weaknesses in this world, son,
and I'm afraid that danger and a few grogs were Bill's.
Yeah.
In the blood, I wonder.
(THUNDER RUMBLES)
DAVE: Yes, Jack.
Dave? I might have something for you, mate.
So where's everyone else?
Tonight, Black Tide's more or less you and me, Jack.
Gulf stream's in the shop, is it?
(CHUCKLES) Cutbacks.
Head office asked if we'd do some crop dusting on the way.
(LAUGHS)
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
(CIGARETTE LIGHTER SPARKS REPEATEDLY)
DAVE: Cigarette?
JACK: No.
You know, this is a SOG job, really.
Well, a team of smart SOGies.
But since that's an oxymoron, you'd end up with a dead Gary.
And that'd mean the bastards win again.
(TURNS ENGINE OFF)
You don't...
You don't think I should be armed or anything, do you?
Federal agent arming a civilian?
Alright, it's time for Gary's
wake-up call.
(RINGING TONE)
WOMAN ON PHONE: Hello, who is it?
Gary Connors, please.
GARY ON PHONE: Who is this?
Detective Inspector David Gwynne, Gary.
Your house is surrounded by police officers, mate,
and what I'd like you to do is come out nice and slow with your hands in the air
so these trigger-happy bastards don't get other ideas.
No dramas, alright?
Gibbo, hold your fire!
Andy, Andy, settle!
Alright, everyone, just hold your positions!
Yeah, righto!
DAVE: Nice and slow, Gary!
Alright, I want you to kneel down, put your hands behind your head.
Lie down, Gary.
Cuff him.
Gary? Gary?!
GARY: Go inside, Glenda! Back inside. Back inside.
There's only two of them, Gary!
I'm not gonna hurt you, Glenda. We're police officers, alright?
Don't you hurt him. He didn't do... Go back inside. Go back inside.
GARY: I didn't kill Canetti. I know you didn't, mate.
He drowned taking swimming lessons, didn't he?
But you did kill the Flower Pot Men.
Didn't ya? Yeah, in self-defence.
Enough bullshit. Now, where's the memory card?
Don't tell them anything, Gary! What does he get out of it?
Glenda, go back inside, fix yourself a cup of tea,
pack some of Gary's things, possibly for a couple of days.
I love you, Gary.
Love you.
Where's the memory card, Gary?
I don't know. Canetti gave it to some journo.
A Waddle or a Wardle or something.
Can't believe I haven't seen it on the news.
What about your old man's 60 grand?
How do you know about that?
I'm his lawyer.
(LAUGHS)
Christ, not even two cops.
One cop and a bloody lawyer.
JACK: Uh, you wanna give us a clue where it might be?
Under the bonnet.
Should still be 50 grand of it there.
How's the old man doing?
Oh, just happy at the end of his life
to have a son who loves him so much, I think.
Shall we go?
(VEHICLE APPROACHES)
What the hell's going on here, Dave? That you, Terry?
I tried to reach you, mate.
We had to leave in such a rush.
Tell me Ray's got a twin, Dave...
..or a really good doctor.
Are you on the take, Dave?
(CHUCKLES) On the fucking take!
Why'd you bring him?!
He was in the fuckin' car when you called!
No,no,no!
DAVE: Idiot!
I haven't got the memory card yet!
Jack!
Great! Go!
Go that way!
DAVE: Jack!
Jack!
(METAL CREAKS)
Oh, Jack, this has all gotten way out of hand, hasn't it, mate?
I don't wanna hurt you, Jack.
Ineverhave.
You know, there's a lot of money involved here, Jack.
Enough to go round.
Jack“. (GUNSHOT)
Ray?
Sorry, Jack... (GUNSHOT)
Bastards!
I'm just Gary's father's lawyer. I just came to make sure Gary'd be OK.
Great fucking work.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(CRIES)
Cam, it's Jack.
You don't fancy a trip down to Tassie, do you?
Yeah.
CAM: Jack!
Well, I can say I've seen Tassie now!
Your flight's departure gate's a couple of paddocks over, brother!
Hope you got me a souvenir!
The penguins.
Stuart went to Phillip Island to meet Canetti.
(IRISH ACCENT) Ah, the luck of the Irish.
That's what they killed Stuart for?
Yeah.
Jack“.
..I'm sorry about the photos.
So, what are you gonna do with it now?
Give it to someone I know.
The recorded confession obtained by
missing, now feared dead, journalist Stuart Wardle
features electrifying accusations from Levesque's employee,
the late Gary Connors.
This isn't some little smack operation
with a few kilos stashed
in statues of the blessed virgin.
This is an international business run by Americans, ex-army, ex-CIA.
And we were the Australian arm of it
CAN ETTI: OK. And so, for the record, when you say 'we', who do you mean?
I mean Transquik, Fincham Air, Aviation SF, Cross Trice Holdings,
all the way up to Steven Levesque.
LINDA: Meanwhile, the Attorney-General, Malcolm Carson,
a long-time Levesque ally, refused to comment.
Linda Hillier, ABC News.
ANNOUNCER: We cross live now to our ABC political correspondent in Canberra.
Hey, Jack, did I tell ya?
Brisbane Lions bloke, he doubled the offer.
Really? Yeah.
Yeah, I tell ya, they want those old pictures pretty bad.
So I've given it a lot of thought.
Bloke wants an answer tomorrow.
And what, Stanley...
And I want you to think hard about this.
..What is the answer'?
I reckon I'll tell him to piss off.
Oh, beauty.
(MEN CHUCKLE)
(ALL MUTTER APPROVINGLY)
Psst!
WILBUR: They tried to shut us down in '96. It didn't work.
ERIC: These pictures are historic.
Was there actually a Brisbane Lions bloke?
Nah.
Just figure they need a little heart-starter every now and then.
Yeah. Keeps me interested.
WILBUR: Yeah, they should be ceﬂified.
ERIC: I don't know about certified. They should be classified.
Did you see it?
Yeah.
I just wanted to say thank you, again.
I owe you a dinner at Donelli's sometime.
Depending how you feel about that.
Well, it's not my style to hold a grudge.
(SCOOTER HORNS BEEP REPEATEDLY)
Shame.
(SMOOTH JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS)
(DOOR CLOSES)
Is that you, baby?
Don't call me fuckin' 'baby'.
(GLASS BREAKS)
RACE CALLER: The jockeys looking everywhere for a run on Vision Divine.
There's no run at the moment. He's trying to get out.
It's Gallery Boy in front of Zealous Guy. Now the run comes.
Vision Divine shoulders his way through.
He's going out after Gallery Boy and Zealous Guy.
Gallery Boy, Zealous Guy, and Vision Divine,
as three of them go to the line, stride for stride.
Vision Divine, Gallery Boy and Zealous Guy, might get a photo!
Nothing in it. Very, very tight.
Jack fuckin' Irish. Brendan.
I don't know what to say.
It's my pleasure. Really.
I hear after he gets outta hospital
that Risky Kirsch is talking about retirement up north.
Not everyone's suited to this bracing climate.
RACE CALLER: Here comes the photo result...
G'day, Des. Jack.
I got something for you, mate.
60 grand. it's all there.
It's got blood on it, hasn't it?
Come on, mate. This belongs to you.
Ah, well, I suppose it's only gonna finish up with the bank, anyhow,
so I may as well have it.
So, uh, what do I owe you, son? What's your fee?
Oh, let's just make it 50 bucks, eh?
Tell you what.
You've done such a great job, why don't I make it a hundred?
Why don't we go and make a deposit,
wipe that smirky grin off the bank's face?
You're on, Bill. You're on. Come on in.
(GENTLE MUSIC)
(SINGS QUIETLY) J' We are the boys from old Fitzroy...
(CHOIR SINGS) J' We are the boys from old Fitzroy
J' We wear the colours
J' Maroon and blue
J' We will always fight
J' For victory
J' We will always see it through
J' Win or lose
J' We're do or die
J' In defeat
J' We'll always try
J' Fitzroy, Fitzroy
J' The club We hold so dear
J' Premiers we'll be this year. J'
(WHISTLING TO THE TUNE OF 'MARSEILLAISE')