Original subtitles

Tell your friends, tell your enemies.

Chris Flannery is in town.

George Freeman.

Chris Flannery, respect your enemy.

You know the big drug importation

everyone's whispering about?

Seven tons of the best fucking hash.

Imagine if we round up all of them

and seize seven tons of drugs.

I really need this payday, mate.

And I need to make arrangements for the family,

you know what I mean?

You've got a leak.

Leave him where he is. We're one step ahead.

We find Terrance James Sinclair guilty.

You're never going to solve this, are you?

I won't stop till I get them.

I don't care how long it takes.

Same guy did Mackay.

This Fred killed Donald Bruce Mackay.

The High Commissioner of London have just been contacted

by a man who seems to know the whereabouts of Bob Trimbole.

Wants to talk to you face to face.

♪ It's a jungle out there ♪

♪ It's a jungle out there ♪

♪ It's a jungle out there ♪

With no chance of seeing his beloved son,

Jared, for 20 years,

and his fiance Karen Soich now living back in New Zealand,

Terry Clark found it hard to cope with prison life.

Oh, oh.

Oh, ah.

Please, please, please, no.

Terry's father also died young

from a heart attack.

The Gesmond pie seller and the millionaire murderer

had more in common than they thought.

♪ 'Cause we heard two clocks ticking in time ♪

♪ Perfectly aligned ♪

♪ Ticking right on time ♪

♪ And if your hands did move slow, babe ♪

♪ Then it'd be fine ♪

♪ 'Cause then I'd pray for you ♪

♪ Like I always do ♪

I'll say a Hail Mary for you, son.

I wouldn't give you two Bob for Chelsea this season.

I'm a key PR man myself.

Priest, Australian Federal police.

I have information that may be of interest

regarding Robert Trimbole.

We've had him under surveillance for months.

Why are you following him?

We believe he's negotiating with the IRA to supply arms.

You're keeping tabs on IRA targets

and he crossed your path?

From what we understand, he's acting as a broker,

appears to have the gift of the gap.

So lost to the Eskimos, our Bob.

Our fee is 20,000 pounds, payable in cash.

US dollars preferred.

Mind me asking who you're working for?

Not at all.

Michael Pius Handbury in custody in Dublin

at the request of the Australian government.

What'd they charge him with?

Possession of unlicensed weapons under the Terrorism Act.

How'd they know he had a gun?

Or did he have a gun?

You think they loaded him up?

Well, whatever they did,

I hope it stands up under the cold clear eye

of Irish justice,

because if not, it's going to jeopardize his extradition.

So what do we do in the meantime?

We try and cut off Trimbole's cash flow.

We continue tracking Nick Paltos and his hash shipment.

We've identified the vessel carrying the drugs.

The Gulf 30.

Great.

It ran out of fuel off Melville Island.

Had to ferry the gear to Darwin in a fishing trawler.

All seven tons.

Well, where is it now?

In transit, overland to Sydney.

I've done the rounds with the Office of Public Prosecutions.

They say there's no point making arrests

until we have a decent chance of securing convictions.

Joe, our deal was for information.

I need physical evidence corroborating your story, Frank,

or the DPP won't sign off on our deal.

Give me something.

What about the car keys?

Fred was supposed to dump the Wilson's car at the airport,

make it look like they'd left town, right?

This is the green Toyota Celica.

Eh, but the lazy fuck leaves it in Fitzroy.

He said he ran out of time.

What was he late for, his mom's funeral?

So Bob and I have to drive the car out to the airport

on the Monday, which is where we found it.

Bob flies back to Sydney.

I dump the keys to the Celica down the drain and I go home.

What drain, Frank? Can you remember?

It was five years ago.

Take a crack at finding those keys.

We arrest a gun dealer, George Joseph.

He identifies Fred. Bingo.

Not yet.

I want a ballistics comparison between the shells

you found at the Mackay murder

and the bullets we dug out of the Wilsons.

Reckon the shooter's using the same gun two years later?

Creatures of habit, our crims are, Warwick.

Let's get as many ducks lined up as we can get.

You got it.

I don't know.

First cloud burst, Port Phillip Bay.

Yeah, but we've got to try.

A thousand to one shot.

But the thing about long shots is sometimes they come home.

Sheer luck.

The keys got caught on a crevice

and they'd stuck there through fair weather and foul.

Cleaned up, they fitted the ignition lock

of the green Celica, which was still impounded.

When I come back to 8th division,

I was out bloody crook, you know, I could hardly walk.

You know what they did to me, the screws?

Gave you another flogging.

Yeah, fucking whiff to the guts.

Burst the stitches wide open.

Same as Grafton, mate. Just trying to break you.

I've got that much hate in me, George.

Listen.

You know Mick Sayers?

Yeah.

Owes me 100 Gs.

Asked him nicely for it and he told me to fuck off.

Tell him to be here tomorrow at 12:00 noon sharp.

With the money.

Federal police.

What's in the briefcase, sir?

Settle down, lads.

Can't just shake down a bloke in the middle of the street.

Three seconds, motherfucker.

Steady now, Laurie.

How was that, Tone?

Great. Great, lads.

You fucking did not.

Bang!

What do you mean you were robbed?

My neighbor got it on camera.

They said they were the feds.

Did you ask for their ID?

Never got the chance, George.

This fucking stinks.

Damn right, it stinks. That's 100 Gs of my money.

My fucking money. You got rolled, your problem.

You still owe me.

Get out.

Okay.

Good afternoon.

Your turn.

1,000 bucks, you miss.

Five grand.

Keep it interesting.

You're on. I'll get this call.

Bloody nice shot there, doc.

Thanks. It's Chris, isn't it?

Yeah, yeah.

Hey, listen, I hear you got a big deal going on.

10, 12 tons of the best shit going around.

How much for a share?

Mate, even if I knew what you're talking about,

there's no room.

Half a share.

You're starting to give me the irrits, Chris?

Am I?

I'm starting to give you the irrits, am I?

I'm starting to give you the fucking irrits, am I?

I'm giving you the irrits, am I?

Is there a problem?

Oh no. No problem, George.

Don?

No problem.

You owe the man five grand, George.

You know what? You remind me of myself.

Yeah, so?

You're a cheeky little shit.

You need to learn some respect, Flannery.

I don't like the way that Mick Sayer ripped me off.

Were you involved?

George, hey.

He's a man of yours, isn't he, Mick?

Is that you?

It's good likeness.

I can't help if the bloke's bloody as good looking as me,

can I, hey?

Kill him.

Mick?

You want me to kill Mick Sayers?

What's going on?

They're letting you go.

The gun charge didn't stick.

I knew it.

So they tore up our extradition request.

If the first arrest isn't lawful,

everything following is null and void.

Why didn't they warn us before they let him go?

They warned us afterwards.

They are Irish.

Bob's still in Dublin?

Vanished.

But he did call Paltos to see how the big job was doing.

Of course, Paltos told him to shut up

because he knows the lion's bud.

Little birdie named Trevor told him so.

There is a way to make the Paltos interstep viable again.

Questions are being asked in high places.

Why aren't we making arrests?

Why aren't we getting convictions?

That translates into budget pressure

and that means we need to tighten our belts.

Starting with the telephone intercept roster.

False economy, boss.

Warwick, don't waste your breath.

These are the warrants we're proposing to renew,

and these are to be terminated.

Any thoughts?

Nick Paltos? He's our direct link to Bob Trimbole.

Used to be,

but he hasn't produced any decent intel in months.

He knows we're listening, Warwick.

He'll get careless. You know that.

And when he does, we need to be there.

Look, can I leave it with you? I've got a plane to catch.

Mick's your second best mate, yeah?

It's business, Laurie.

Oh, what sort of business is it

where you knock your second best mate?

George is paying top rate.

Not the point.

Goes against the code.

I'd never fucking knock you.

Don't care how much they give me.

Go on. I got to pick up the kids.

Yeah, no, you're right, Laurie.

Never knock a mate.

Never knock a mate, mate.

Come here. Here we go.

Poo poo.

Have a poo poo, have a poo.

Innie, minnie, minie, moe.

Catch a lassie by-

Hey, Chris.

How's business, mate?

Jesus, mate, you're interrupting.

If she squealed-

Mate, why have one

when you can have all three?

On me, on the house.

Girls, Julius Caesar room. Chop chop.

Go on. Fuck off.

That is very generous of you, Tone.

Well, with Mickey Sayers pushing up daisies,

Danny Chubb gone,

guys like me get a bigger slice of the cake.

I've got you to thank for that, right?

Mate, when Mick went down,

I was in the Lapsone Hotel drinking Sherry

and eating cheese and biscuits

and I've got fucking witnesses to prove it.

Makes you wonder, who's next?

Tone, the Roman Empire is fucking crumbling

and you are looking at the head fucking brand new.

Hey, hey.

What if something happened to George?

We'd all be fucking better off without him,

don't you reckon?

Why settle for just the drugs?

We could take you over the casinos, everything.

We could own this town.

The cake gets very fucking big without George, Tone.

Very big.

Very fucking big.

♪ Draw this chain around my neck ♪

♪ The chain that sets me free ♪

♪ Murdering the dark ♪

♪ And no apologies ♪

♪ You remind me now and then ♪

Tell me about Eustace.

He's a good bloke.

I say he's a top bloke.

I think he's a piece of shit.

Yeah.

Yeah, now you mention it,

you don't respect none of us.

♪ Bring out the devil in me ♪

♪ Oh ♪

Am I interrupting anything?

He said, fucking averting his eyes modestly.

You wanted to see me, pal?

Mate, on me.

Looking for a mate.

And here I am.

Things are getting pretty buddy over

between me and George, Tone.

I'm saddened to hear it, mate.

I've got to lie low now, right?

Now I haven't got a lot of ready cash available,

so I'm looking for someone to stake me.

- Me? - Yeah.

I don't know, mate.

Well, it'd only be 20 grand, Tone.

Fucking hell.

Still a lot of money.

What do you fucking think George is going to do, hey?

He's going to be asking me who I've been talking to lately.

You know me, I can only keep my mouth shut

for a little while, can't I, huh?

You're all right, mate.

You won't regret it, Tone.

Mark my words.

Dr. Paltos speaking, how may I help you?

Ah, Nick. Bob.

How's that little business venture of ours?

Are we making any progress?

Jesus wept.

I'm the guy doing all the bloody donkey work around here

and every bastard wants to take a swing at me.

Hey, hey, take it easy. Take it easy.

What's the matter with you?

Sorry, Bob.

Sorry, mate.

How are you, buddy? How's your health?

Well, this orchidectomy,

you know, having myself denutted.

I know what you said about stopping the testosterone

to the cancerous prostate,

but what if it's already spread to the other places?

The only way to find that if you've got secondaries

is to see an oncologist over there and get the tests done.

You know that, Bob.

I can't diagnose you over the phone.

I don't speak bloody Spanish, do I?

He's in Spain.

Or a Spanish speaking territory.

And he's got prostate cancer.

Rather advanced by the sounds of it. Poor bugger.

Poor bugger?

Ask Don Mackay's widow how she feels about it.

What are his chances? Can we find out?

Well, probably depends on how aggressively

it's being treated.

We need to know how long he's got.

If you get to him in time,

do you reckon he'll cough everything up?

Well, when you know you're dying,

confession's a powerful impulse.

And one good confession

could blow the whole lid on New South Wales.

Now, did we get anything from Bob's lady friend's home line?

Ann-Marie doesn't phone home.

What else?

Bloody hell.

You're not well, Bob.

I want you to go home.

Well, I don't want to go home.

You can't make me, so stick that in your fucking wag nose.

This week, Bob.

Jesus Christ. You're like the bad fucking fairy.

Cut it out, you bloody galoot.

I'll strangle you with my bare hands.

I'm going to find you the best doctor

in this bloody country and get you treated.

That means removing a testicle, so what?

What's this? The revenge of the women's lips?

You'll be burning your bra next.

Bob.

I need to buy some time off.

Get my affairs in order,

scrape together enough cash to set you up.

And the kids, of course.

Where do you think Donald Mackay is tonight, Bob?

Hey, Chris.

Tone.

What happened to the Commodore, mate?

Oh, she's at the panel bay,

there's some fucking cheek driver.

What kept you, Tone?

Fuck!

♪ Now you say you don't know if you still love me anymore ♪

♪ I bet you're tied to the same old bag ♪

♪ You're thinking of leaving ♪

♪ Well, it's time to move along ♪

♪ The lives come be just once and drag ♪

If you want the credit, be my guest.

Shh.

Unbelievably,

Liverpool Tony Eustace took a long time to die.

When the police arrived, they asked who'd shot him,

and Tony's immortal reply.

Fuck off.

Are we agreed?

Every day goes by, he's a bigger threat.

He'll do things only you bastards

have got the balls to do.

What's to stop him coming after you one day, George?

I'm just off to my movement class.

All right, darling.

Once he's gone,

we can restore order and get back to business.

What else are you going to do with a rabid dog?

Exactly. You put it down, George.

Problem, Chris?

I don't know.

Someone speared my bloody distributor cap.

Oh, shit. You going someplace?

I'm supposed to be going to George Freeman's.

Oh mate, I'm heading over that way now. Hop in.

Ah, ah.

It was well known Chris Flannery

kept a revolver under the front seat of his car.

Maybe that was the reason for nobbling it.

Now mate, don't you do anything I wouldn't do.

All right, hey?

Howie.

In the study.

Wipe your fucking feet.

Shut the fucking door.

Oh, you're doing some renos, George.

Don't mind that color.

Lennie, the fuck's cooking?

Not a lot.

Got a job problem. Sit down.

Some bloke in town is gunning for the big fella here.

George Sevis.

Yeah, I heard of him.

What's his beef?

Nevermind the beef.

All you need to know is he's a rabid dog.

A rabbit dog?

No, not a bunny, you dunce. A rabid dog.

A dog with rabies. A mad fucking mongrel.

50 Gs, I'm happy to do it.

Sevis is a walking arsenal.

You need a very special weapon.

Lennie.

Fuck me.

Sten MkII.

S stands for silencer.

Fires 540 9-millimeter rounds per minute.

Magazine. All sturdy rounds.

So simple, even a goose like you can use it.

Trig.

Safety catch.

And this is the end you point.

Fuck you, George!

♪ It was a party night ♪

♪ It was the end of school ♪

♪ His head was feeling light ♪

♪ First time ♪

♪ Come second, boy ♪

♪ Let's go down to the sand ♪

♪ Let's do what we want to do ♪

♪ Let me be a man for you ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ It was a party night ♪

♪ It was the end of school ♪

♪ His head was feeling light ♪

♪ It was the first time ♪

And so it was on the 9th of May, 1985.

The man who liked to call himself Mr. Rent-a-kill,

was wrapped in chains and dumped at sea,

executed because he was too bloody good at his job.

Georgina Freeman.

No, Mrs. Flannery.

I've no idea where Christopher is.

No, I haven't seen him.

Okay.

Bye.

George, what's happened to the carpet?

I found someone who speaks English.

And they're getting a doctor

to give you some serious pain relief.

No more of this Dr. Paltos magic pills.

Why didn't you deal with this when you had the chance?

You're such a coward, Bob.

What did I ever see in you, huh?

Must be me rakish good looks.

I'm sorry to put you through this now.

Oh, shit.

Where's that bloody doctor?

Time was running out for Aussie Bob,

and Dave Priest knew it.

His best chance of locating Australia's most wanted man

was through Nick Paltos.

With a Lebanese hash shipment finally in Sydney

and about to hit the streets,

it was now or never.

We estimate the key players imported close

to seven tons of hashish from Lebanon.

The quality of the merchandise isn't great

and we think they may be about to flood markets

across the country before word gets round.

Top man is Nick Paltos.

He's also the weakest link.

Never been in custody before.

We expect he'll give up Trimbole's location

and the major profit takers,

the bank rolled, the whole deal.

This is our chance to crack open

the whole New South Wales system

and finally get our hands on Trimbole.

The aim is to hit them all simultaneously

so no one gets the chance to warn anyone else.

Paltos is doing rounds at Sydney Hospital this morning.

And around lunchtime, will be back at his clinic.

He's scheduled an appointment with his accountant

and that's our queue.

Now, teams and targets.

How can we be so sure of Paltos' movements?

We've had a phone tap on him all year, Trevor.

I thought we discontinued that.

Mm.

Never mind.

Okay people, let's do it.

Trevor. You're with me.

Now. Let's go.

They made 40 arrests that day.

Nick Paltos was the prize scalp,

but he was a long way short of being Mr. Big.

Even so, it was still the largest drug bust

in Australian history.

Cannabis resin, 4.9 tons.

Heroin, 8.45 kilos.

Cocaine, pills.

You chartered a Greek cargo vessel called the Gulf 30.

Your name's on the contract.

We can put you in prison for a very long time, Nick.

Where's Trimbole?

We know that you are not a crook.

You're highly regarded in the community.

You're a good husband. You're a loving father, Nick.

Gambling's what got you into this mess, isn't it?

Don't wreck the rest of your life.

By helping us, you're helping yourself.

Now you can start by telling us where to find Bob Trimbole.

Although he'd been caught red-handed,

in the end, Nick Paltos said nothing.

Refused to give up anyone,

let alone Aussie Bob Trimbole.

The mild mannered GP wouldn't even utter his name.

Shit.

Shit.

We know it was Jim Egan of the CIB

who tipped off Bob Trimbole.

And we think you tipped him off.

When you joined the police force, you swore an oath.

You promised to protect the people of this state,

to serve them, protect them.

You've broken that promise.

We're giving you a chance to make it right.

The first step,

tell us about your pals in the CIB who take money.

You're wrong. You've got the wrong guy.

You can't prove a word of it.

Without sufficient evidence to charge him,

Trevor was transferred out of the Joint Police group

and back to the New South Wales CIB.

And then, Dave Priest had a stroke of good luck.

Ann-Marie called her mother last night.

Bob Trimbole's in a Spanish hospital.

A little place called Alicante using the name Robert White.

You'd better get on a plane, David.

Go.

Good luck.

I'll need a recorder,

a note taker,

in case he makes a statement.

Si.

You speak English, mate?

Ingles? No, no, no.

Español. Español.

Oh Jesus.

Thanks.

You wouldn't know if they got a priest in this joint,

would you?

Man needs to get a few things off his chest.

Priest.

Excuse me.

You have a patient, Robert White?

Que?

Robert White.

I'll write it down, yes.

You're not a bloody priest. You're a murderer.

Takes one to know one, Bob.

No one's ever convicted me of anything.

By the way, you're not allowed to smoke in the hospital.

You're as bad as me.

Worse.

I never chopped no one's head off.

You put a man through a meat mincer.

All I did was favors for other people.

I never wanted anyone dead personally,

and that's God's honest truth.

Amen.

Crap.

Get up.

Come on, time to go.

I don't want to go with you.

Give us your hand, Bob.

I've good things to do.

People to look after.

Bob.

Time's up.

But I haven't even got any undies on.

Where you're going, you won't need undies.

This man.

Bianco.

Roberto Bianco.

Cinco.

Cinco. Gracias.

Shit.

Bob?

Oh God.

Would Aussie Bob really

have turned crown's evidence if he'd lived?

Or would he have toughed it out like his friend,

Nick Paltos?

Who knows.

His death ended one of the most colorful chapters

in Australian criminal history.

Mrs. Mackay, Warwick Mobbs.

Thanks for coming all this way.

Ah, please. Take a seat.

It was a long time since Donald Mackay

was murdered on that cold July night in Griffith.

Not a day went past his widow didn't pray

for the souls of his killers.

Mrs. Mackay, we wanted to warn you

before you see it in the press,

we've made some arrests in relation

to your husband's murder.

After all these years?

A man called Frank Tessoni has confessed to arranging it.

His information checks out.

Ballistic reports proves that the gun

used to kill Donald was the same weapon used

on two drug couriers murdered in Melbourne two years later.

A gun dealer called George Joseph supplied it.

He also supplied the gunman.

I'm a respectable gun dealer.

You give me your name or you face the maximum penalty.

James Frederick Bazley.

Where's the body of Donald Mackay?

Frank Tizzoni was sentenced to eight years

for conspiracy to kill Donald Mackay and the Wilsons.

He was released after 14 months and presented

with a tax bill for almost a million dollars.

George Joseph got three and a half years,

and James Bazley, 15.

He was released in 2001.

You were in Griffith all those years ago, weren't you?

You promised you wouldn't rest and you haven't.

Thank you.

The happily married George Freeman

continued in business with Lennie McPherson,

but legal casinos in New South Wales

were already on the horizon.

Nick Paltos served his time in prison,

then spent the rest of his life as a medical administrator.

Ann-Marie came home to Sydney, where she lives to this day.

Laurie Prendergast vanished without trace

three months after Chris Flannery was shot dead.

Until next time.

Go safely, Joe.

You two glad you joined up?

Of course, sir.

I can think of worse jobs.

Good,

because I've got a feeling the war has only just begun.

Dave Priest was right.

By the late 1980s,

the illegal drug industry was huge worldwide,

second only to oil.

The vast profits fueled corruption,

the corruption fueled the growth of organized crime,

and the rogue elements of the New South Wales police

and their mates were in it up to their grubby necks.

But the winds of change were blowing

and they only need one lucky break

to point them in the right direction.

But that's a whole different story.