Jack Irish: Black Tide (2012) - full transcript

Subtitling provided by
RLJ Entertainment

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
at 20 years.

You know, we got 30 bodies
to a four-man cell.

You got rats
crawling up your ass.

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.

Well, enjoy your stay
at the Bangkok Hilton, Gary.

Wait.

Can I have
your attention, please?

This is the final boarding call

for all passengers on Flight 141

from Bangkok
direct to Melbourne.

Your flight is now boarding...



Thank you, Mr. Connors.

Dave, you there?
Dave, we got him.

Rolled and boned.

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.

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?

♪ Take a little walk
to the edge of town ♪

♪ And go across the tracks ♪

♪ Where the viaduct looms
like a bird of doom ♪

♪ As it shifts and cracks ♪

♪ Where secrets lie
in the border fires ♪

♪ In the humming wires ♪

♪ Hey, man, you know
you're never coming back ♪

♪ Past the square,
past the bridge ♪

♪ Past the mills,
past the stacks ♪

♪ On a gathering storm
comes a tall, handsome man ♪

♪ In a dusty black coat
with a red right hand ♪

as they race
past the 300,

and the favourite,
Killer Serial,

quickly moves up on the outside.

He's going after Pax Americana.

It's like a Munchkin convention.

Jockeys without horses.
It never looks right.

But he's not going to get there.

Pax Americana's racing away
the last little bit.

Strides away
and wins it by a half...

Not much of a turnout.

Midweek 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.

Mm.

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.

Ah.
Obviously wracked with grief.

Reflex action.

Ricky made his first million
in the fruit business.

♪ ...always see it through ♪

♪ Win or lose, we do or die ♪

♪ In defeat, we'll always try ♪

♪ Fitzroy, Fitzroy ♪

♪ The club we hold so dear ♪

♪ Premiers
we'll be this year... ♪

A bar fighter,
your father, Jackie.

Laborer and a bar fighter.

♪ Fitzroy, we wear the colours
maroon and blue ♪

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?

Well, 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.

- Half a length.
- Half a length.

Wouldn't be dead for quids.

Jack fuckin' Irish.

That's for you.

Oh, Brendan.
You shouldn't have.

Should he, Drew?

Brendan insisted
on thanking you himself.

The, uh, Crown
dropped all charges.

You're the bloke
got the result, Jack.

If it weren't for you
tracking 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 feel-good story
all 'round.

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 have done the trick.

I mean it. Grateful don't even
begin to cover what I feel.

I want to have your babies.
That's more like it.

I want to have
your bloody babies.

Righto.

Perks, Jack, hmm?

- Perks.
- Yeah, thanks, mate. Thanks.

You looking for me?

Jack Irish.
Well, I'll be buggered.

Last time I saw you,

about this high you were,
in short pants.

Des Connors.
How are you, 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 teammates,
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 around here,

would you, mate?

And tell me, son, your mother...
Is she still sound?

No, 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.

I guess you've heard that story
a million times.

No.
No, I haven't, actually.

Anyway, here we are.
My other office.

DESI Ah.

Bill and I sank some frothies
in here back in the day.

Yeah, I bet you did.

Of course it's all changed
since then.

The Fitzroy Youth Club.

- Afternoon, gents.
- Hey, Jack.

- 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?

Just a player.

Played with your old man, Jack.

Ah, yes, I did that.

But I was never in Bill lrish's
league. Neven

One hell of a footballer
was Bill Irish.

- Dead-set champion.
- Prince among men.

- Godlike, he was.
- A hard God.

- Legs like tree trunks.
- What was he like, Des?

Yeah, you must have
some stories.

His feet stunk.

He had very, very smelly feet,
that fella.

Who gets the pot of gold, Des?

Everything's to go
to a Judy Louise Connors.

- Is 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 want to
include Gary?

Include him?
He fucking 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 had some
inside mail on some shares.

- Inside mail, my ass.
- When was that?

Oh, it would have been
three months ago.

It was, as a matter of fact.

It was the 4th of February.
The wife's birthday.

That were gonna be
my 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 didn't have 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.

Oh, 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.

[ Coughs 1

been shot through
the neck 'cause I saw it.

They're black.
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?

Oooh!

Hey, Lester.

- Jack. How many for you?
- Just one, thanks.

What happened to two?

- Uh, two went to Sydney.
- Ah, Sydney.

To work on that,
with the Pringle.

of the top-ten rich list.

Linda Hillier met
the maverick mogul on the move.

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.

How do you respond,
Mr. Levesque,

to those who say
the attorney general...

A former colleague of yours...

Is incapable
of choosing a tie...

There she is.
Number two.

- She looks good, Jack.
- Yeah.

Malcolm does share my weakness
for Borrelli seven-fold 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 ponce, Linda.

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!

From humble beginnings
growing up

in the hard-bitten suburbs
of Melbourne...

There'll be another two, Jack.

Oh, might be the end
of my twos, Lester.

You only get so many twos.

Steven Levesque's rise
to the top has been meteoric.

Feel free to contact us
if you have any questions,

and we'll keep in touch.

Yeah, I'll have some questions.
Don't worry about that.

Old fella.

They made six billion dollars
profit last year,

and now they're threatening
to auction off

me little
two-bedroom weatherboard.

The dirty, rotten bastards.

Here, cop these, son.
Gary gave his mum a spare set.

Oh.

Well, the mail's gone.
He must have been here.

Jesus, this is bloody posh.

What'd the bastard
need my 60 grand for?

The use-by date's
three months old.

Uh-huh.
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,

and then he finished up rooting
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.

She was a false alarm.
That was a dry run.

Welcome to Transquik.
Please hold.

- Is that Gary?
- Yeah.

Afghanistan.
Used to be SAS.

Don't worry, mate.
We'll find him.

Yeah.

♪ Heaven is my woman's love a'

Do we have to listen
to this, Harry?

Have you know,
Col Joye was huge in his day.

What day are we talking?
Medieval?

Enough of that, philistine.

Give Jack the rundown.

Vision Divine.
12 year old, lightly raced.

44 starts, five wins,
six seconds, and eight 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.

♪ And when I see her
in the morning light I'

♪ I feel the same as... l'

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.

Comes off pretty impressive wins

in his last couple of runs.

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 Strangs.

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.

I hope you got him each way.

MAN ON PA; So the 12-year-old
Vision Divine

to come up to the barriers.

They're just about set to go.

Cam!

I got it at 20s!

Ready to run.
They're racing.

Burnbank Boy...

Burnbank Boy leads
with about 100 meters to go,

from Clancy's Angel.

Sir Rocco running on.
Vision Divine cannot get a run.

Johnny Chern0v's
got to get a pocket.

But as they go down to the line,

it's Burnbank Boy racing away,

and he won by two lengths
from Sir Rocco.

Clancy's Angel 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.

Ah, 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 back
of a Stradivarius violin?

Did you miss me, Charlie?

What I miss?

I miss someone finish
the little jobs I give him.

The little tables.

A day's work
for a man who actually works.

[ Beethoven's "Symphony No. 7"
plays 1

Fancy a quiet one at the pub?

No.

My granddaughter cook 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 there.

Bloody pishers.

They should have
their own junior league.

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 ass.

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,
first of Feb.

And nothing since?

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?

The clubhouse.

You realize 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,

private bank in Luxembourg;

and Airbound Services
in Tampa, Florida.

51% owned by an Australian
company, Fincham Air,

part-owned
by CrossTrice Holdings.

Problem?

Do you always talk this fast?

Do you always listen this slow?

Right. So, urn, Fincham Air...
That's Levesque, isn't it?

Yes.

As is Transquik Australia.
Freight company.

Connors is on their payroll.

They're CrossTrice's
biggest company.

Steven Levesque is CEO of one,
chairman of the other.

It's all in my report.

All this information
is ready available, Mr. Irish.

You could have
done this yourself.

You're very wrong about that,
Ms. Bendtsen.

Bendtsen. Bendtsen.
What is that, Danish?

Okay, so what do I owe you?

Urn hour's work.
$120.

Just, urn, make it 100.

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?

Mr. Irish, I'm afraid there is
no Gary Connors working here.

Oh, in Dubai, is he?
Or Bangkok?

Mr. Connors left the
organization some time ago.

How long
have you been in HR here...

I'm actually
with the legal department.

Ah.
They sent the lawyer down.

If there's nothing else,
Mr. 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.

Yes, Mr. Levesque, please.
It's important.

- 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'd better
let you go, then.

We're pretty much falling freely
down here as well.

You know,
floor looming up and all.

Could I just see you
in your positions, please?

You've reached Linda Hillier.
Please leave a message.

The chairs in my parlour
seem empty and bare.

What time do you call this?

Unglaublich.

Utterly unglaublich.

We're looking for Jack Irish.

Haven't seen him
for a long time.

Heard he go away.

Is that right?

Bit of a carpenter, are we?

I am a cabinet maker.

Cabinet maker is to carpenter
as Rolex is to sundial.

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!

Oh, Charlie.

Careful.

That's my bowling hand.

It should've been me, Charlie.

Yeah. [ 685F951

I'd prefer that.

You want to 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, that'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 all right?

Nicorette?

No.

So, what's your interest
in Gary Connors?

I'm doing his father's will.
You?

Well, I'm trying to close a file
on a tedious investigation.

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.

Look at these gutless pricks.

You know...

If these boys want snow
in Darwin, Jack, it falls.

Youth Club are quiet tonight.

Another bottle
of Chéteau Disappointment?

Hey, Jack, did I tell you?

Had a bloke come in
this morning.

Wants to buy the pictures.

Pictures?
What pictures?

The photos.
All this junk.

Bloke?
What kind of a bloke?

Brisbane Lions bloke.

Yeah, he reckons all the photos
should be up in Brisbane.

Eh!

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!

My bloody oath.

Best to depart before somebody
bursts a colostomy bag.

God, this is
bloody Nuremberg stuff, this is.

So I 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,

some TV do.

Yeah.
They're work colleagues.

He kissed her ear.

Well, they kiss everything
in television, don't they?

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.

[ Beethoven's "Symphony No. 7"
plays 1

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. Eh.
- Yeah.

That's a start.

Uh, the doctor said
to take it easy, didn't he?

The old man should be retired.

Mm.

But, no, he goes on,

teaches something
to this nuisance person

who walk in off the street,

waste 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.

♪ Heaven is my woman's love a'

♪ Happiness is what she gives a'

♪ As long as she's with me,
I'M find I'

♪ Heaven every day I live a'

Interesting choice of venue.

Nobody“ 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 fucking 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 meters.

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 want to give us a name?

I think we know the name.

All right, well,
let's get this over with.

No, there's no call for that.

So, what,
you want the dough you dropped?

Heh. You got 100 grand on you,
have you, Johnny?

No, tea's on me, Mr. Strang.

I'm touched.

Transquik.

Running a black-market
operation.

- Oh.
- Hi.

This article you found
by Stuart Wardle.

- Yep.
- What do we know about this guy?

Uh, did we... Why...

I'm not sure
who his sources are,

but he's ruffling
some pretty serious feathers.

Transquik, CrossTrice Holdings.

Don't look.

Just remind me again
how DanishBlue 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.

"DanishBlue" 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.

Urn, I'm just gonna print
his address now.

He actually exposed
the connection

between Klostermann Bank
and Transquik.

Oh, you're into Zumba.

- [ Thud 1
- Ow!

- Can you not read that?
- It just came up.

It's on the printer.
You can get it on your way out.

Thanks.

I actually love romantic weekend
drives in the country myself.

- Bye.
- See ya.

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 l.D.?

Yeah.

Got my, uh, 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 have 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.

Uh, 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.

Ah, 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.
- Mm.

This is it.

Wow, mission control, eh?

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.

What about messages
on the machine?

Erased.

- By who?
- Don't know.

- Is this the business line?
- Yeah.

I didn't want to disconnect it,
just in case.

You've called Dean Canetti.
Leave a message.

Do you know a Dean Canetti?

Vague“!-

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.

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.
Worth a try.

If only to give you a reason
to come back.

Bye.

So I'm on this stakeout,

taking a leak
against the back tire.

You know, big relief.

Fucker sticks a shotgun right
between my shoulder blades.

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 chooks.

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 counseling

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.

A toddler from Alice...

and a Middle East
market consultant

from buttfuck 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.

Mrs. Canetti?

Do you mind if I ask you
about Dean's work?

Middle East market consultant.
What is that?

Import-export.

I 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 have had an accident.

That he was doing secret work.

For the government?

They said
I couldn't tell anyone.

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.

He said, "Forget you heard it.

Don't ever mention Black Tide
to anyone."

What the hell's it matter now?

Irish.

If you keep walking
toward the curb, Jack,

there's a car waiting for you.

Who's this?

Oh, they've got Meryl Canetti
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 want to show you something.

That Beechcraft taking off

is part of
the Fincham Air fleet.

They fly in and out of here
three times a week.

That one?

Aviation SF.

They do the midnight run
from Darwin.

Drugs, is it?

Mm-hmm.

We could pull the cargo and
the pilot out of the plane now.

It 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.

Shit!

Floor it, Ray!
Go!

Get your head down, Jack!

Ray?

Ray! Oh, no!

We're fish
in a fucking barrel here!

Soon as I move, you run!

You run for cover,
you don't look back!

Yo“ 90t it?!
Go!

Police!
Drop your weapon!

Surrender now!

Dave?

Better make
your own way home, Jack.

I'll clean up here.

Don't expect to see this
on the news.

♪ Do you miss me tonight? a'

♪ Are you sorry
we drifted apart? I'

♪ Does your memory... a'

Is that Kamahl?

They were out of Elvis
at the airport.

♪ When I kissed you
and called... l'

I wanted to tell you myself.

I didn't look for it.
It just happened.

And it's, uh... it's over now.

♪ Seem empty and... a'

But I'm feeling
a bit soiled and stupid.

So I collected my things.
Urn...

I don't know if you'll
ever want to 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.

Yeah, if you'd just made me feel
like you wanted me to stay.

- Course I wanted you to stay.
- Then why didn't you say it?

Right, if I'd said something,
you wouldn't have gone?

Course I would have 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?

You've called Jack Irish.
Leave a message.

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.

Ah. I always knew
he'd come to a sticky, that lad.

Hmm.

Someone's selling,
but I'm not buying, Des.

They never found a body.

Car could have 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.

People have been
saying that to me all my life.

Truth is, I have no idea
who my old man was.

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 feetfirst,

only after you got your telegram
from the queen, okay?

Ah, Bill lrish's boy.
Thank you, son. Thank you.

Yeah.

Of course, Monet was famous
for his water lilies.

Well, hello there.

Mm.
My learned friend.

Are you expecting more muscle?

Uh, no.
Lighting fires.

- Mm.
- Essentially a male preserve.

Yes, and we'd like to
hang on to it.

- Not many preserves left.
- Good. Off you go.

I have to confess
to vaguely false pretenses.

- Really?
- M m.

I haven't remembered
anything at all useful.

Ahh!

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.

Oh, shit.

Oh, no.

I've spilled your fancy wine.

That's all right.
It's not that fancy.

They do say to let it breathe,
anyway, don't they?

Yeah, they do.

You know, I inquired about you.

- Did you, now?
- Mm-hmm.

You were described as a person
of dubious reputation.

Oh. Really?

Mm-hmm.
That's what they say.

You can't argue with "they,"
can you?

They seem to know everything.

Did you inquire about me?

I come from a simpler time,
Lyall, before Google.

That's quite a collection
of things you 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.

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 just
the orgasm speaking.

- I actually laughed.
- Oh.

I wish I hadn't laughed.

Ah, well, it'll be all right.
Maybe one day.

No.

No, he's gone.

So tell me about
the Irish women.

- Well...
- M m?

until recently
I was a bit of a Trappist monk.

- Oh, were you?
- Yeah.

So you've renounced
your vow of chastity?

Yeah, I thought
it was for the best.

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,
DanishBlue.

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.

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, you want to 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 check
for 60 grand.

Yeah, you're right.

Can I borrow 60 grand?

MAN ON PA; 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 around

on a bloody carousel.

Same thing at Werribee.

just in front of
the Well-back Vision Divine.

Isn't that Dougie Armit's widow?

Yeah.

Woman can't bear being vertical
for more than 10 minutes.

Harry.

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 killing and maiming them's
something else.

That banana bender's
got to 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.

Teamwork.
That's what wins races.

You've called Jack Irish.
Leave a message.

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.

Good night, Jack Irish.

So, what's in Phillip Island

besides fairy penguins?

Hopefully somebody
who doesn't want to be found.

Can you just try
not to shoot me?

I'll see how I feel.

Locals, they picked
the place pretty clean.

Yeah, I'm sure if the water tank
wasn't made of concrete,

they would have pilfered that
as well.

Good stuff, concrete.
No rust.

Cam, turn around.

Don't tell me.
I like surprises.

Oh, Christ.

Nasty.

Ah!
Get off me.

Yeah.

Your bloke?

No, it's not Connors.

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 standoff
going?

Pistols at dawn, Jack.

Head up their ass, some people.

Yeah, can't see the elephant
till it farts.

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.

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 ahold of it.

Yeah.

Now he's dead,
and Gary's gone AWOL.

Urn...

Look, Dave, I'm...
I'm out, mate.

It's all a little bit scary
for me.

I... 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.

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?

PlusOnecom.
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.

Go on.

Some of the smack
was in transit for the States.

That's why they bought
Lee-ton Stevedoring.

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.

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 PlusOnecom
doesn't mind waiting in his car.

All right,
all of these are companies

that are connected to
or owned by

Transquik and Steven Levesque.

Now go. Please.

Have you got a back way
out of here?

Why?

Uh, you're gonna have to
tell PlusOne

to meet you around 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.

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.

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... I 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 I'm supposed to
just take you at face value?

How'd you get these?

I track insurgents for a living.

You think I can't follow you
round Fitzroy?

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.

You could have been
working for ASIO or...

I work for a 75-year-old
half-back flanker

with dodgy knees.

Just find somewhere else
to stay, okay?

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 Lonnie.

A dead-end spot down there,
mate.

And do you remember
your wife's cousin's name?

Oh, yeah, 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?

Ah, yes.
Yes, I was.

I was inside on the dunny
at the time,

and this joker runs in
and he said Bill was dead.

Cracked his head on the curb.

Gone to God.

What for?
Bloody nothing.

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.

- 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.

Gulfstream's in the shop, is it?

Cutbacks.

Head office asked if we could
do some crop dusting on the way.

- Cigarette?
- No.

You know,
this is a SOG job, really.

Well, a team of smart SOGies.

Since that's an oxymoron,
you'd end up with a dead Gary.

And that'd mean
the bastards win again.

You don't... You don't think

I should be armed or anything,
do you?

A federal agent
arming a civilian?

All right, it's time
for Gary's wake-up call.

Hello.
Who is it?

Gary Connors, please.

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, all right?

Gibbo, hold your fire!

Andy, Andy, settle!

All right, everyone just hold
your positions!

Yeah, righto!

Nice and slow, Gary!

Right, I want you to kneel down,
put your hands behind your head.

Lie down, Gary.

Cuff him.

Gary? Gary!

- Go inside, Glenda!
- Get back inside.

There's only two of them, Gary!

We're not gonna hurt you.
We're police officers.

Don't you hurt him.

- He didn't do anything.
- Go back inside.

- 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 you?
- Yeah, in self defense.

Enough bullshit.
Now, where's the memory card?

Don't tell them anything, Gary!
What does he get out of it?

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.

Christ.

Not even two cops.
One cop and a bloody lawyer.

Uh, you want to 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?

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?

On the fucking take.

Why'd you bring him?!

He was in the fucking car
when you called!

No, no, no!

Idiot!

I haven't got
the memory card yet!

Jack!

Great! Go!

Go that way!

Jack!

Jack!

Jack!

Oh, Jack, this has all gotten
way out of hand,

hasn't it, mate?

I don't want to hurt you, Jack.
I never have.

You know, there's a lot of money
involved here, Jack.

Enough to go 'round.

Jack.

Ray.

Sorry, Jack.

Bastards!

I'm just Gary's father's lawyer.

I-I-I just came
to make sure Gary'd be okay.

Great fucking work.

Cam, it's Jack.

You don't fancy a trip
down to Tassie, do you?

Yeah.

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.

Ahh.

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.

Okay, and so for the record,

when you say "we,"
who do you mean?

I mean Transquik, Fincham Air,
Aviation SF,

Cross Trice Holdings.

AH the way up
to Steven Levesque.

Meanwhile, the attorney
general, Malcolm Carson,

a longtime Levesque ally,
refused to comment.

Linda Hillier, ABC News.

We cross live now

to our ABC political
correspondent in Canberra...

Hey, Jack, did I tell you?

Brisbane Lions bloke...
He doubled the offer.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Yeah, I tell you, 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.

Yeah.

What is the answer?

Ireckon
I'll tell him to piss off.

Oh, beauty.

Oh, Normy boy.

See, they tried
to shut us down in '96.

- It didn't work.
- 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.

Yeah, they should be certified.

Don't know about certified.

They should be classified.

Did you see it?

Yeah.

I just wanted
to say thank you again.

Urn...

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.

Shame.

Is that you, baby?

Don't call me fucking "baby."

Jockey's 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.

The three of them going
to the line, stride for stride.

Vision Divine, Gallery Boy
and Zeaious Guy

make it a photo!

Nothing yet.
Very, very tight.

- Jack fuckin' Irish.
- Brendan.

I don't know what to say.

It's my pleasure.
Really.

Ihear
after he gets out of hospital,

that Risky Kirsch is talking
about retirement up north.

Not everyone's suited
to this bracing climate.

Here comes the photo result.

- G'day, Des.
- Jack.

I've 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 100?

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.

[ Fitzroy Football Club song
plays 1

♪ We are the boys
from old Fitzroy ♪

♪ We are the boys
from old Fitzroy ♪

♪ We wear the colours
maroon and blue ♪

♪ We will always fight
for victory ♪

♪ We will always
see it through ♪

♪ Win or lose ♪

♪ We do or die ♪

♪ In defeat, we'll always try ♪

♪ Fitzroy ♪

♪ Fitzroy ♪

♪ The club we hold so dear ♪

♪ Premiers we'll be this year ♪

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RLJ Entertainment