All language subtitles for Underbelly - 02x02 - Bad Habits.BiA.English.HI.orig.Addic7ed.com

I hear you got
a certain commodity to sell.

Number four Chinese white heroin.

95% pure.
BOB: I can help.

Oh, no point in importing a product
if you can't get it to market.

Want me advice, son?
Go back to New Zealand.

TERRY: I plan to bring in
50, 100 kilos a year.

Don't ever stiff me, Terry.
I'll bury you under an orange tree.

DON: How come certain families
around here

are building jazzy new homes
for cash?

Can you answer that, Bob Trimbole?

You ever mention my family again,
I'll fucking kill you.

There's an Italian going round town
looking for a hit man.

Who's the target?
He doesn't know.

That's what I call
useless information.

Who was that loudmouth back there?

Just a pest. I'm dealing with him.

(SILENCED GUNSHOT)

Where is he now?
FRANK: Pet food.

Fred put him through a meat grinder.

(THEME MUSIC)

SONG: # It's a jungle out there

# It's a jungle out there.

# It's a jungle out there. #

(BIRDS SQUAWK)

(BIRDS SQUAWK)

Here you go.

Do you know how much trouble
you've caused? You fat fucking dago!

No call for language, Malcolm.

Fuck me! You could have not picked
a worse guy if you tried. Don Mackay?

I don't know nothing about it!

And setting me up as your alibi.

How about a nice cappuccino?

I don't want a cappu-fucking-cino!
I want an explanation!

So do the boys in town.
They're not happy, mate.

Now, worst comes to worst,
I arrest you and I deny everything.

Six months time,
no-one will even remember his name!

(PHONE RINGS)

Yeah?

Hey, Franco!

What news?

Paesan!

You tell Ray Chuck
I'd be thrilled to meet him.

LIZ: "The wife
of Griffith businessman

"and anti-drug campaigner
Mr Don Mackay

"believes her husband is dead.

"But she said yesterday
she did not know

"who would have wanted
to kill him.

"Mr Mackay has been missing
since Friday night."

Could this be our man?

The mystery Italian's
mystery Aussie hit man?

It's stretching the logic a bit,
isn't it, sir?

How many contract killings occur
in Australia in any one year?

MAN: Sir, I've got the chief
of Sydney detectives on the line.

Inspector Bill Allen.

Joe Messina, Victorian Major Crimes,
Bill. Thanks for taking my call.

What can I do for you, Joe?

The Mackay case in Griffith -
we have information

Italian interests were
scouting for a shooter in Melbourne.

I was wondering
if there's any connection.

Talking hard evidence, are we?
More rumour, to be honest.

No names, certainly.

Yeah, thanks for your interest, Joe,

but, uh, we've got that
well in hand.

I've sent a hand-picked
Homicide team down to Griffith.

Cheerio.

Cheerio.

(SIGHS)
(CHUCKLES WRYLY)

(REPLACES PHONE RECEIVER)

JACQUl: Detective Sergeant Phil
De La Salle was absolutely thrilled

when they handed him the Mackay case.

He'd never headed up
a murder inquiry before.

72 hours after the shots were fired,

he drove into Griffith
bright-eyed, bushy-tailed,

bursting with confidence.

Those look like drag marks.
Looks like murder, boss.

Murder requires a body, Warwick.

Until such time as we have a body,
or the coroner tells us otherwise,

this is a disappearance.

Don't we have to assume foul play?

Let's not make reckless accusations.
Whole world's watching, Warwick.

Phil, is it? Malcolm Paris.

Mobbs.

What's your reading, Malcolm?

We reckon it's all a bit suss, you know?
Something doesn't smell right.

What, because there's no body?
Oh, there's no body, you know.

Take a look at the blood spray,
the strategically placed shells.

You know, I'm no forensics expert,
but I reckon it all looks a bit staged,

like someone's trying to convince us
that Mackay's dead,

if you know what I mean.

So, why would he disappear?
Did he have money worries?

Did he have marital problems?
Oh, who doesn't, mate?

Eh? (SNIGGERS)

Was he a friend of yours, Malcolm?

Oh, me and Don had a lot of respect
for each other, yeah.

Don have any enemies?

Lot of people hate politicians.
You're not wrong, Warwick.

A few weeks ago,
a bloke called Bob Trimbole

actually threatened to kill him,
you know?

Yes, no problem.
Gentlemen.

Ray Bennett.

Also go by the name of Ray Chuck.

I thought you were supposed to be
in stir in Pommyland.

I was. Now I'm back.

Ray Chuck.
The armed robber's armed robber.

He'd learned his trade
at the feet of the masters -

London's notorious Wembley Gang.

I got a job on.

Need to move
a large amount of cash overseas.

Now, Frank here says
you got ways and means.

How large?

Could be huge. Millions.

Where do you want to shift it to?

The Philippines. Manila.

Oh, shouldn't be a problem.

The place is awash
with Aussie dollars.

We could, uh, use a legit route

and use a shopfront bank
like the Bank of Cyprus

or we could move it through
a solicitor's trust fund.

That's tried and true.

But I reckon simple's the best.

Why don't we just walk the money
in suitcases onto a cargo boat?

Boat docks in Manila,
cases are walked off again,

Ray Chuck's there to collect
and Bob's your uncle.

No, fuck that.

The wharves are controlled

by Brian and Les fucking Kane
and their mates.

Now, I got no intention -
none whatsoever -

of cutting those greedy bastards in.

Huh? Understand?

Fair enough, but I'm talking
ANL Sydney, not Melbourne.

The boats in there
do the Philippines run regular.

Our fee is 8% of the takings.

Gentlemen.

What's the job?

Bob. Manners.

Where the bloody hell have you been?

This thing in Griffith - any chance
the cops will trace it back to you?

What do you think I am,
an amateur like you?

Bob!

Why'd you have to kill him?

Ah, it's an example
to any other clam

who thinks about
giving us any grief.

If they do look into it, Bob,
what they gonna find?

Relax, kid. Nobody knows.
They're gonna find me.

I said relax!

Here. Buy yourself a lolly.

(HORN HONKS)

Girls.

Hair of the dog?

Any news on the bush telegraph, Brian?
Re: Donald Bruce Mackay?

Well, I'm told the brass
aren't too keen on making an arrest.

That's why they've sent Supercop
to Griffith.

That is, if he can find the joint.

By the way, your, uh,
your Kiwi buddy, Greg OIlard,

he's moonlighting.

(SCOFFS) Mate.
He wouldn't dare stiff me.

BRIAN: A narcotic agent
on the payroll's been tailing him.

He's setting up his own supply line.

He just got off a flight
from Bangkok.

What do you think he was
doing up there, Philip?

Ping-pong championships?

See ya, ladies.

He said he was on holiday in Bali.

Yeah, well, he's got to be planning
to undercut us.

Otherwise he wouldn't
have kept it a secret.

I'll handle Greg.

Terry's old prison buddy,
Greg OIlard,

was his key heroin distributor
in Sydney.

Everyone was making big money.

But greedy Greg wanted more.

Greedy, stupid Greg.

Only a stupid man
cheated Terry Clark.

TERRY: Greg.

Uh-oh.

What's up, chief?

How long have we been mates?

Oh, I don't know.

Back in stir. '74.

What have I done, Greg?

Why don't you love me anymore?

What do you mean?
I know about Bangkok.

Setting up your own supply.

Look, Terry...
Why would you do that?

Go behind my back? Betray me?

I just thought that...
I know what you thought.

You thought
you'd steal my customers.

Undercut me. Send me broke.

That's what you thought.
Mate, no, no, no, no, don't.

It was just a spur-of-the-moment...

...just stupid piece of insanity, OK?

I mean, where am I gonna find
Chinese white, huh?

You're the only guy
that customers want to deal with.

(LAUGHS)
I've got nothing to worry about?

Mate, not a thing.

Not a thing.

I can count on your loyalty?

Cross my heart.

And hope to die.

Gaw! (LAUGHS) You scared me.

Make me a drink.

It was the drug people.

Had to be.

That's not what you said
to the press, though, Barbara.

Because I'm terrified of them.

That's why.

If they come after me,
what happens to my family?

Don spoke out against them
every chance he got.

And that's the way to make enemies
around here.

Is it possible he walked out on you
and he made it look like a murder?

No.

But is it impossible that he was
involved with another woman?

I knew my husband.

He was the most decent man
I've ever met.

PHIL: "lf you make accusations
against my family,

"I will effing kill you."

Did you say that to him?

Something like that.
Strong words.

Did you mean it?
Course I didn't!

I was het-up.

You threatened to kill a man
who's now missing.

Possibly dead.

OK.

Where were you Friday night
from 6:00 onwards?

I was having a business dinner
with associates at La Scala.

It's an Italian restaurant
here in town.

OK, can you give me some names?

Sure.

Malcolm Paris was there.

Country town, Warwick.
Everybody knows everybody.

PHIL: Do you grow pot, Mr Trimbole?

Now, you wouldn't be asking me that
if I was Mr Jones, would you?

You're welcome to search my place.

I got nothing to hide.

I've never been in trouble
with the law in me life.

Are we finished?

'Cause I'm rooted.

Pizza night
at the Coronation Club, mate.

Malcolm will give you the gen.

Got a bit worked up there, matey?

PHIL: Talk to Mackay's bank
first thing.

If we take Malcolm with us,
I doubt we'll need a warrant.

What do you make of him?

Malcolm?

Well, he and Trimbole are a little
too close with each other for mine.

Yeah, so, what's the population, hmm?
12,000, 15,000?

Course they know each other.

What's the first thing
a good copper does

when he moves to
a new town, Warwick?

Shakes everybody's hand.
Yeah, this is Griffith, Phil.

Bloody heartland
of the cannabis industry.

Coppers take money to
look the other way. You know that.

So, what are you saying? Malcolm's
involved in Mackay's disappearance?

Or murder, maybe.

But I know I don't bloody trust him.

Who was it that pointed us
to Trimbole?

Since he's Trimbole's alibi, maybe
he thought it was worth the risk.

Listen, mate.

We weren't sent here
to take on the coppers.

Got it?

G'day, Ray.

Long time, no see.

Ooh.

Hey. You put your roots down, mate.

Call yourself a Pommy bastard.

What brings you boys
all the way out to Keilor, huh?

Jungle drums are beating, mate.

Ooga-booga. Ooga-booga.

Ray Chuck's got a job on.

It's a good thing you haven't
lost your work ethic, Ray.

Sorry, boys, I got nothing on.
In fact, I'm going back to the wharves.

We don't need to know
what the job is.

In fact, we don't care, mate.
We don't.

But what you gotta remember, Ray,

is nothing's changed.

So if you want
our tick of approval...

Ray, you want
our tick of approval, mate.

...we get a big drink out of it.

I didn't do hard time over there

to come home and get butt... fucked.

Yeah?

(SIGHS)

OK, Ray.

Pit bulls. Born and bred to fight.

Alright, mate.

To sink their teeth in
and hang on like grim death

until the last drop of blood
was spilt.

And pretty soon,
the blood would start flowing.

MAN: Miss.

Chris Flannery
and Laurie Prendergast.

Identical twins.

Except they weren't blood-related.

Anyway, they loved each other
like brothers,

which means they fought
like cat and dog

and never missed a chance
to hang shit on each other.

Listen, getting a few heads together
for a job coming up.

I'll put your name forward
if youse interested.

Who?
Ray Chuck.

Ray Chuck?
Yeah.

You're pulling my leg.
No. I'm deadly serious, mate.

See ya.

(CHUCKLES)

Vinnie Mikkelsen, wasn't it?

What'd he want?
Nothing.

He's got a job on, hasn't he?

Ray Chuck.

Talk to me, Laurie,
you devious little fucker!

RAY: 27.

28.

29.

Come on, ladies.

Now, down. 10 push-ups.

One, two, three, four. Come on.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Nine, ten.

Take a break, ladies. Well done.

Fuck!

Hey, hey.

No smoking.

We need fitness if we're
gonna get this job done.

OK?
LAURIE: Give us a hint, Ray.

Bank? Payroll? Armoured car? What?

You'll know when you need to know.

(SNIFFS)

CHRIS: Hey, fellas. Ray.

Flannery, what are you doing here?

Thought I could lend a hand.

Wheel man, second gun.

Whatever. I'll do anything, mate.

Look, I don't know
what you're talking about.

We're just...
getting ourselves fit. Yeah?

Yeah? I'm already fit, mate.

Everyone says you're a psycho.
(LAUGHS)

I'll let Mother know
when I get home, then, will I?

Come on, eh?

You can't have too many psychos
on the team, now, can you?

Right, come on.

Hey, mate. Chris Flannery.
How are ya?

Hey.

Chris Flannery. How you doing?

G'day, mate.
How are you? Chris Flannery.

RAY: Now, job day. So three of
you fat bastards won't make it.

Which three?

Who's up to it? Who's not?

Four.

BRUCE: Don was supposed to go
to Jerilderie to see a Mr Adams

about furnishing a house.

Except, um, a family friend
died suddenly

and he had to help with the funeral.

I took my father-in-law along for
the drive. We went in Don's Fairlane.

Very comfortable touring car,
the Fairlane.

(CLEARS THROAT) Anyway...

We did see a bloke
in a white Ford sedan parked nearby.

I reckon there never was a Mr Adams.
I think it was the murderer.

That's who the bloke
in the white Ford was.

We don't know it's a murder.
It was a murder, believe me.

I know Don Mackay. You don't.
OK. Are you sure it was a Ford?

Yeah, it had the 4.1 badges
on the front mudguard.

Registration number?

Um...

Sorry.

But I'd recognise the bloke
that drove it.

WARWICK: Description?

BRUCE: I reckon the bloke was...
mid-40s.

Um, he was wearing a suit.

A suit?
Yeah, a suit.

He was clean-shaven, around 5'7",
dark hair. That's it.

Ever heard of a hit man
walking into a country town

wearing a bag of fruit?

I think we should shoot over there,

see if we can
find ourselves a witness.

Jerilderie's a 3-hour drive, mate.
You'd have to overnight it.

I'm game. Boss?

Any time you like.

MALCOLM: I'll go along, Phil.
Keep the lad on the straight and narrow.

Why not? That's the way
to investigate a homicide.

Ruling out suspects, Warwick.

MAN: Skip, a Mr Forrester
on the phone for you.

He's got some information
on Friday night.

I'm driving into town this way,
right?

Yep.

As I approach the bend,
I notice a car coming the other way.

White Ford Fairmont.

What, coming from Griffith?
Yeah.

And just as I get to it, this other car
comes screaming up behind it.

Pulls out right in front of me
and overtakes.

Did you get the make and the model?
EJ Holden.

Green with a white roof.

Constable, I want you
to place an alert

on a green EJ Holden
with a white roof.

OK, car leaving Griffith
on Hillston Road at high speed

between 6:30 and 7:00 Friday night.

No worries, skipper.

And I want you to place an advert
in every local paper within 100 miles.

Appealing for information.
You write it, I'll place it.

Detective Inspector Messina,
Victoria Police. Bill Allen, please.

He's expecting you, is he, sir?

No, but he'll get over the shock.

BILL: Assuming this mystery Italian
is connected to Mackay,

how is that
a Victoria Police matter?

The conspiracy to murder
may have occurred in Victoria.

At this stage,
we are just talking disappearance,

perhaps engineered by Mackay
himself - no-one's talking murder.

Crooks knocking off crooks
is one thing.

Killing politicians,
we can't allow that, can we, Bill?

Police across the country
have to draw a line in the sand.

I'm late for a meeting.

We've canvassed dozens of people
who live and work

around the Jerilderie post office
and motel,

and we couldn't find a soul who
remembers seeing the killer's Ford.

Now we're convinced
he's the killer, are we?

I'm talking about Bruce Pursehouse.
Dozens!

Jerilderie's a red bloody herring.

We barely interviewed anyone.
He had it all worked out.

He does not want to find
the guy in the white Ford.

('WIDOW WOMAN' BY CWT PLAYS)

(SPEAKS INAUDIBLY)

(SONG CONTINUES)

Terry Clark was making money
hand over fist.

He bought himself a posh Sydney
waterfront property for $150,000,

paid in cash.

But it was small beer.
He wanted the world.

Which meant taking on more couriers -

reckless fools like Harry Lewis,
known as Pommy.

Ha-ha! Get it right!
Harry. Let's step outside.

Andy.

Little boy's willy, Bob?
A lovely spread, Maria.

Grouse place, Terry.

Yeah, very classy, Tel.
What, did you buy it for cash?

You ready for tomorrow?
Absolutely, mate.

They're right to go, Tel.
Yeah. We know what to do.

Buy yourself another one next week.

Don't ever do a run
when you're drunk.

Or stoned. Or hungover.

Now go home, get some sleep.

OK.

How are things in Singapore?

They're good.

Marty behaving himself?

Sure.
Keep an eye on him for me.

OK.

(GLASS SMASHES)

Can you go look after my shit?
Yeah.

Surprised to see your pal Greg here.

He's undercutting us,

using our bloody network
to sell his bloody gear.

Me...

...I'd set an example.

Prove to me you're not just
another Kiwi wanker.

TERRY: How you doing?

Fine.

What's with you?

Greg.

Greg?
You know what he calls you?

A poser.

How can you be mates with him?

TERRY: It's obvious
you're not happy.

GREG: Mate, I'm as happy
as a pig in shit.

No, let's be honest.
It's not working.

You're better off trying to run
your own outfit, Greg.

Rather a 2IC that was 100% happy,
not just 90%.

You know?

This is what I'm thinking.

Pay you what I owe you.

Plus a few extras.

We'll shake hands, part as friends.

What do you say?

What extras?

How's a brand-new car sound?

Plus a bag of your favourite scag
as a bonus.

I could live with that.

Lennie McPherson?

I am he.

Phil Scott.

I rang you.

A lot of people ring me.

About buying a gun.

Now, what do you want
a gun for, Scotty?

There's this bloke...

Don't go around telling everybody,
you nitwit!

Just give me the cash.

Sweetheart, you happy?

Lennie.

Show me how to use it?
Point and shoot, Scotty.

Point and shoot.

Terrence John Clark felt the weight
of the cold steel in his hand,

knowing that it would soon grow hot.

Today a man must die.

Whenever Terry Clark
brought merchandise into the country,

he did what lots of other businessmen
do - he warehoused it.

Except Terry's warehouse
was Ku-ring-gai Chase -

an entire national park
north of Sydney.

See, the problem with the 280Z,
it's heavier than the 260

and much, much heavier
than the 240Z.

That's why I want to get the 240.
Better power-to-weight ratio.

Japanese crap.
What?

Datsuns. Be a man.

Get a Jag.

This is it.

Yeah?

Dig right here.

There?

How deep is it, mate?

Come on, Greg.
Yeah, I'll get there.

(BLOWS)

(LAUGHS)

Help yourself to as many
as you think you deserve.

You're the best, Tel.

I mean that.

You really are a greedy bastard,
aren't you?

('YOU'VE GOT TROUBLES
(I'VE GOT MINE)' PLAYS)

# I see that worried look
upon your face

# You've got your troubles

# I've got mine

# You've found somebody else
to take my place

# You've got your troubles
and I've got mine

# I too have lost my love today

# All of my dreams have blown away

# Now, just like you,
I sit and wonder why

# You've got your troubles
and I've got mine. #

You don't like it?

No, it's... Iovely.

Did I overcook it?

No.

Thanks.

What exactly were you doing today?

I was helping Greg
pack up his things.

He's gonna hitchhike to London
or... some hippie bullshit.

Good riddance.

(GUNSHOT ECHOES)

Can't we afford wine in bottles?

A cold beer, or...

...is that not allowed?

Not allowed and not required,
Mr Trimbole.

You a collector?

Oh, me and a mate supply pinball
machines all through the Riverina.

It's a good lurk.

Did you organise,
facilitate or participate

in the murder
of Donald Bruce Mackay?

On my mother's eyes, I did not.

Well, your alibi for Friday night's
a bit too good to be true, isn't it?

What do you mean?

Well, you even organised
for a local copper to be there.

I often entertain businesspeople
from the district.

Right. Malcolm Paris
is not a businessman.

Well, I like to maintain
good relationships

with the local constabulary.

I mean, I'd be mad if I didn't.

Do you mind if I imbibe?

Sure.

(BOTTLES CLINK)

Sandwich wouldn't be
breaking the rules, surely?

Help yourself.

I will learn the truth.

Know that, Mr Trimbole.

Enjoy your lunch.

PHIL: When's that?

Um, yeah, that'd be fine.

OK. Hey, listen,
get Amy to call back.

Alright. See ya.

Hey, um...

...do you take money, Malcolm?

Like, if I got a warrant
to access your bank accounts,

what would I find?

Come on, mate, it's no accident.

The cannabis industry round here's
out of control.

You've been looking the other way
for a long time now.

It's not just you, I know that.

Even this bloody building's
got a smell about it, hasn't it?

Dry rot.

And garlic.

Listen, mate,
if you tell me the whole story,

I will move heaven and earth
to protect you.

If you're thinking of turning this
into some kind of witch-hunt,

I wouldn't recommend it, Phil.

The boys up in Sydney
would not be happy.

(CRUNCHES CONE)

I want to thank you gentlemen for
putting your hands up for this job.

As you know, we only need six men.

As a show of my appreciation
for your efforts,

the unlucky ones get
a 10 grand sweetener when it's done.

OK? Spud.

Champ. You're not required.

Stanley. Sorry, mate.

Chris. Same goes for you.

I'll see you round, boys. Now, listen.

If you want that 10 grand,
keep your mouth shut.

OK.

Oi.

You out of your fucking head, Chuck?

I'm the fittest of the bunch.

You said it yourself, Chris.
You're a psycho.

I can't afford a psycho.

MAN: Hey, hey! Get into him, Ray!

Ray, come on, you filthy fucking...

You fucking prick!

Ray, you didn't tell me
there was gonna be a floor show.

Want to see a floor show?
Be at the Victorian Club on Tuesday.

(SPEAKS ITALIAN) That's huge.

A plum just waiting to be picked.

(FANFARE PLAYS)

After every major race meeting,
the bookies get together for drinks

to settle up with the major punters,

here in the Victorian Club
settling room.

Just before noon,
the Armaguard van arrives

with a stack of steel crates
full of bookies' cash bags.

Now, those cash bags
are taken upstairs under guard

to this security room here.

It takes approximately 60 seconds
for the guards to get from the lifts

to the door of the security room -
now, that's when we hit 'em.

(MEN SHOUT)

Down! On the ground! Get down!

SONG: # Tomorrow night

# Going to the casino

# Tomorrow night... #

Shut up!

# What could possibly go wrong? #

Shut the fuck up! Get on the ground!

# What could possibly go wrong? #

Quick!

(SHOUTS)

(WOMAN SCREAMS)

Shut up! Stay down!

How much cash are we
talking about, you reckon?

Could be up to a couple of million.

# What could possibly go wrong?

# See, see, see, see, see, yeah
What could possibly... #

Fucking get down!

Well?

Estimates start at 1.5, sir.

Where do they stop?

Oh, could go as high as 12.

(LAUGHS)

$12 million.

All over in 11 minutes, not a shot fired.

(LAUGHS) Talk about
military precision.

Who do we know that's smart enough
to pull off a job like this?

Who was it? Who was it?

Ray Chuck.
Course it wasn't Ray Chuck.

He wouldn't fucking dare.
Read it.

CHRIS: It was Chuck.

I know for a fact.

Fucking what?

Ray Chuck.

Fuck you!

Fucking Chuck!

He's a fucking dead man.

Fucking dead man walking.

# Going to the casino. #

Morning.

Seen the papers?

"Police investigating
the disappearance

"of Griffith businessman... "

"... Donald Bruce Mackay
are inquiring into a suggestion

"that he received a hoax... "
"... telephone call

"to meet a customer... "
"... at Jerilderie... "

"... at 10:30pm... "

"... at 10:30pm... " (LAUGHS)

"... on Tuesday 12 July."

"... on Tuesday 12 July."

How did they mix up am and pm?
Yeah, look.

I don't think anyone will be put off
with a simple typo, Warwick.

MALCOLM: I don't think you've got
too much to worry about. Do you?

When there's good news,
I always like...

...to share it around.

(LAUGHS)

(TRAIN RATTLES PAST)

(SIGHS)

G'day, Mal.

What news from the bush?

Relax, Baz. Everything's sweet.

(PAPER RUSTLES)

Bonus for you and the boys.

('BAD HABITS' PLAYS)

# I can't help myself
Bad habits... #

G'day, buddy.
G'day, Barry.

How's it going?
Good.

# I'm running wild
Lost control

# And it's a shame to think... #

Gary? Cheese and tomato.

# That a boy like me

# Has got so many bad habits... #

Jim.

Jimmy. Ham and salad.

Thank you, Baz.

Dennis in?

# My resistance fails... #

Excuse me, Dennis. Lunchtime.
Yeah, why not?

You know the team. Barry.

Trevor.
G'day, Trevor.

Have a sandwich.

Ta.
Bill in?

Talk later.

DENNIS: We'll do more than that.

# Bad habits

# Well, it just ain't right

# That it's something I can't fight

# I can't stop going out
and having fun

# Well, I tried to be good

# But I knew I never could

# 'Cause I've got more bad habits
than anyone

# When I get the urge

# I just got to splurge

# I'm a slave to all my desires

# Well, I'm in a mess

# Because I can't repress... #

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

MAN: Come in.
Sandwich, Bill.

With all the trimmings?

Please.

No-one will ever know how much
the great bookie robbery netted,

but it was enough to grease
a whole lot of palms.

FRANK: "Mrs Barbara Mackay
said her husband had no enemies.

"She said he had a lot of friends.

"The things he did
were things to help people."

You're going straight to hell, Bob.

Oh.

I wonder if they do room service
in this dump.

Listen to this - "The only persons
who had reasons to fear him

"were those who were threatened
by his efforts to do something

"about the growing of marijuana."

Get rid of one pest,
another pest sticks her head up.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

(CLOSES CASES)

You right?

G'day. Come in.

Bob Jones.

So I can trust these babies
to your keeping?

Sweet.

Big drink in it for you and your mates
if they get to Manila safely.

FRANK: Ray Chuck will be there
to meet you, OK?

(DOOR CLOSES)

Horrie?

Both dogs died in agony.

Someone had fed them poison baits.

You bloody bastards!

(SOBS)

It was them.

The Coleambally people.

Same ones who killed Don.

Punishing me
for talking to the press.

All the Coleambally men had alibis
on the night that he was...

...he was killed.

We checked
every last one of them, Barb.

You're never gonna solve this,
are you?

I'll get you a cup of tea.

I won't stop till I get them.

I don't care how long it takes.

(SOBS)

Even if Phil De La Salle had been
competent, it wouldn't have mattered.

The police investigation was doomed
from the start.

After all, this was New South Wales.

You were right.

The fix was in all along.

Used to think being hand-picked
was a good thing.

(CLOSES DOOR)

We're not gonna
do this forever, are we?

What?

The business.

You're not going to jail?

I'm never going back to jail.

Good.

'Cause I missed my period.

I never miss my period.

You're gonna be a good dad, Terry.

BOB: French plonk again?
What's wrong with the local drop?

We're toasting fatherhood.

How much did you make
from the bookie robbery?

Why?

I don't like you branching out.

I want you to concentrate
on our business.

You're not my boss, son.

You're my partner.

Junior partner.

The junior partner...

...is you.

I got a prezzie for you too.

Filipino porn.

We send 'em cash,
they send back porno.

Something in there for everyone.

Even a sheep-shagging wanker
like you.

Bob, I'll have you know,
I'm a family man.

(LAUGHS)

The Age of Aquarius was dead.

The age of hard drugs was dawning.

Aussie Bob and Kiwi Terry
were on their way.

Each had killed
to protect his business.

Both would kill again.