Phoenix (1992) s02e09 Episode Script

Slowly.
No, Tina Have you got your sneakers and your socks? GIRL: No, you were in the front yesterday! Tina.
Oh, come on, girls.
Just don't argue.
Tina! In the back.
In the back.
TINA: Oh! See you later, love.
'Bye, darling.
Have a good day.
Come on, Dad.
We've got sport today.
WOMAN: What time can I expect you home? Uh I'll give you a call, OK? Alright, then.
'Bye, girls.
GIRL: 'Bye, Mum.
(STARTS CAR) (CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS) MAN: Zulu 3 to Zulu 1.
Target's leaving.
Heading north.
Got both girls up.
Left indicator on.
Heading your way, T-Bone.
MAN 2: OK.
Bloody get indigestion because this prick decides to come my way.
Travelling on St Kilda Street.
Got one for cover.
We're none for cover now, Spider.
Whenever you're ready.
Approaching Bay Street.
Left indicator on.
Approaching corner.
Left into Bay Street.
Indicator off.
I've got none for cover now.
Spider, he's yours as soon as you can.
Flannagan and family's done a U-ey, Sarge.
Pulling into the school.
Letting the little brats out.
This where you went to school, Knicks? WOMAN: Sure.
I went to Broadie High.
(LAUGHS) Yeah, Broadie.
OK, Knicks.
Over to you.
Heading towards the (YAWNS) Increasing his clicks.
He's got the amber.
He should be stopping.
Oh, shit.
Shit! Damn! MAN: What's up? Nothing too drastic, boss.
Target made the lights.
I didn't.
Sort of had to jump the red a bit.
Frightened an old bloke.
Doing 30 clicks.
Just hope there's no red-light camera.
You're wearing it if there is.
Coming out now.
(CAMERA CLICKS) MAN: Took a while.
Yeah.
Looks like smokes again.
(CAMERA CLICKS) Don't you hate a man who loves routine? He's backing out.
Turning left.
Heading eastbound.
MAN: Yeah, we've got him.
Need anything at the market? (CLEARS THROAT) Make it an even two dozen and, uh you know, see how you go next week.
MAN: OK, then.
No problem, Vic.
Listen, I'll give you a buzz too about these, uh about these Still with baldy.
(METAL CLANGS) Give my love to Angela and the kids.
See you next week.
MAN: See ya.
SPIDER: Oh, mate.
You could set your watch by this bastard.
Yipes! Spoke too soon.
A bloke's giving him a yell.
I know him.
Head he's with now.
Races or some place.
When I did a BCI job.
Come on.
Give Uncle Spider a nice cheesy grin.
(CAMERA CLICKS) Knicks.
Looking good this morning.
(CAMERA CLICKS) (FAITHFUL LAUGHS) Mad Morrie.
MAN: Who? Morrie Bannerman.
He's a desperate, mate.
Deals at the games, runs bets for Alex the SP.
Anything for a stake.
He looked to be working there.
He does, mate.
This bloke, he'll deal all night and do a full shift the next morning, blow the whole bloody lot on the trots by lunchtime.
Used to be a gig for the Drug Squad till they gave him the arse.
Well, I don't know.
Apart from that, your bloke looks lilywhite.
Leaves home at 7:30.
Drops the kids off at 7:45.
Picks up his biz from the warehouse.
Thanks.
So this is the lace stuff that he imports? Napkins, tablecloths, whatever.
And he goes around the markets all day.
Tuesday and Thursday, it's the Vic and Prahran.
Wednesday, it's Footscray.
Friday, it's Dandenong.
There's nothing on him.
He's your average self-employed, hardworking, successful businessman.
Well, we've got to find a connection, mate, because these bastards came back and raped the old lady.
And they used my name to get inside.
MAN: Major Crime.
Now, you've never heard of this Flannagan before? Nope.
New one on me.
None of the boys know him either.
And there's no way that he could have been doing any business without you blokes jerring what was going on? You think I'm not doing my job? No, mate.
No way.
It's just that everything points to him.
Now, all our information says that he is involved in the ag burgs and the importation.
Yeah, we're getting we're getting nothing back from surveillance, as you say.
I'm calling it as I see it.
If he does nothing, I got nothing to give you.
My crew's bored shitless.
And I reckon the super's starting to think this is a waste of time.
Wallace? We got to fax him a copy of the running sheets at the end of each shift.
Big Brother watching the watchers there, mate.
Check it out.
You know what two surveillance crews, four telephone personnel and six vehicles cost to run? MURDOCH: Not offhand.
All because some sly old fart says so.
Should have known better.
I know the mail came from Stan.
But everything fits.
Flannagan's connections, his business.
He's an ex-docker.
It's got to be right.
I reckon Flannagan did the mailbag job at the railyard.
Did you work on that? I was at the local CI at the time.
Oh, Stan's toying with us, Lew.
I feel it.
He's laughing his frigging head off.
Even if Flannagan is our organiser, could smoulder for a month before he shows his hand.
Mmm, don't think we've got a month.
There's no guarantees with this.
I'm aware of that.
A huge effort's been put in by a lot of people.
A pity to scrap it at this stage.
Down to resources.
TIG have had a job simmering for the past month.
It's gonna reach boiling point in a few days.
They'll need the shadowers for that.
Are you giving us a deadline? Faithful might be chasing moonbeams on the say-so of a con man.
The best I can do is tomorrow night.
OK.
We'll be freezing our tits off for you.
Yeah, thanks, mate.
You've got to be bloody joking, boss.
They reckon you've had all the resources you've wanted for the last week and you're no further advanced.
No-one said, sir, that this would be quick.
Well, make the most of it.
Come tomorrow night and we've still got nothing, we lose the shadowers.
So you reckon he went in to bat? MOON: I think Wallace wanted to shut it down sooner.
He reckons Stan's snowed us.
Bullshit he has.
Not with a bloke like Flannagan.
He'd be too bloody scared.
Then it shouldn't be too hard coming up with something, should it? (LIFT DINGS) Don't I know you? Face rings a bell.
Oh! Can I have a bit of that? I'll give you some cake too if you tie in Flannagan to the drug scene.
No, we can't do that.
Mickey's lying low.
Very quiet.
Bugger-all movement.
We're losing the dogs.
TIG's got something on the go.
Thought he might have some information to give me another starting point.
Nothing I can think of, no.
What are you gonna do? Go back to the start.
See if I can find something I missed.
So I guess you won't be in for dinner again.
Hmm.
I suppose I couldn't tempt you with something nice by the fire.
Take a raincheck on that.
Don't wait too long.
FEMALE RECORDING: Level seven.
I won't wait up.
DARBY: So could you pick him up from school, please, and will you tell him that I will be home on time? So how did your exam go? Good.
Good on you.
OK, 'bye.
So, Peter, what do you want? You won't get much for a slice of cake, you know.
Well, I, uh, maybe just can't see the forest for the trees.
I thought a fresh mind might help.
Uh-uh.
Sorry.
Promised Tom I'd be home tonight.
Well, you can't break a promise.
Don't suppose he'd like to see where his mum works? (COMPUTER GAME MUSIC PLAYS) Hey, jump! He's good.
You're getting done there, are you, Grump? 457-5777.
457 BOTH: 5777.
It's some bloke that Flannagan rang back on the 18th.
Nope.
Doesn't match anything we got.
No bloody wonder.
It's the local police station.
He's ringing about his kid's bike getting knocked off.
This is hopeless.
This prick's airtight.
Now, he hasn't made one call in the last 10 days that's remotely suss.
Now, with Stan and Rhys being brought in, he's got to be belling someone, just to keep a lid on this thing.
Funny.
What? Hang on, hang on.
He always buys his cigarettes from the FoodPlus.
Well, I'll be blowed if I would, not when they're cheaper at the markets.
So how are we going? Freezing our balls off.
Flannagan, four other heads.
Ugly bunch.
Plenty of money on the table.
Big money.
Hamburger.
Ta.
They're working long hours.
We've got two off with the flu.
I must admit it, the missus thought I'd left home last week.
Tell me about it.
Hamburger.
Don't say we don't do nothing for you.
Beauty.
So how are we doing? Manila.
Your bloke should be finished soon.
And we can all go home to bed.
FAITHFUL: Shit finds its own level, doesn't it? When he goes to the FoodPlus store of a morning To get smokes.
how long is he usually in there for? MAN: We may just be on a winner here, guys.
Left indicator on.
Turning into the FoodPlus.
I'm continuing.
Whoops.
And I spy with my little eye the Major Crime Squad.
MAN: Yeah, just getting our lunch, mate.
FLANNAGAN: Yeah, yeah, yeah, no sweat.
This is sweet as a nut.
I'll give him a bell now.
Yeah, yeah, he's expecting our call.
I'll let you know how I get on.
Alright? (HANGS UP) Yeah, g'day, mate.
No, no, no, no.
No, no.
Not a problem.
Yeah, good.
Good, yeah.
Listen, I, um I just think it might be a good idea if we have a meeting, you know? No, no.
No, no.
No worries.
Payphone.
Two calls.
Shifty bastard.
A payphone.
Should have sussed it before, boss.
It's a classic.
It's also a nightmare to try and get a warrant for.
So, what else is new, boss? Public telephone.
Being used by a crook.
May be a crook.
And being used by anybody else who goes in there.
Ah, it won't wash.
Not without stronger grounds.
Wallace wouldn't even try for it.
Well, with respect, sir, you're not saying he's going to all this bother just to ring Dial-a-Prayer? Sir, he's got a phone at home, at the warehouse.
There's phones at the markets.
He's got a mobile telephone.
And yet he chooses to make calls from a FoodPlus store.
And he's been doing it under the shadowers' nose for a week, and only Darbs twigged it.
Run me through it again.
If I have to get a warrant for a phone that squeaky-clean citizens use, I need to know exactly what I'm bloody well talking about.
A listening device and telephone intercepts have been installed in the home and place of work, to no avail.
Inspector, on occasion, I've purchased cigarettes from a convenience store.
I've been known to make a call from a coin-operated telephone.
MURDOCH: I appreciate that many people utilise them.
Your Honour is, however, not in similar circumstances to this particular individual.
I should hope not.
Or you might consider that I was involved in criminal activity.
I'm afraid I shall require further convincing.
You'll find detailed resumes of the six aggravated burglaries, the nature of each assault, the amount and value of the property stolen.
We allege the burglaries were a callous fundraiser against the defenceless elderly to finance a drug importation.
So, uh I'm prepared to issue a warrant.
But you'll find I'll be stipulating stringent conditions.
Aha! Good morning, Mr Flannagan.
Nice of you to be so punctual.
He's turning into the FoodPlus.
(CAMERA CLICKS) He's getting out of the car.
Alright, he's going inside.
Keep your fingers crossed, guys.
MAN ON PHONE: It's me.
FLANNAGAN: How's things? Still tropical.
What's gone wrong? Oh, no sweat.
The shipment's fine.
I was thinking about a furniture man.
Oh, Jesus, you had me worried for a minute.
Mate, QC's running on time.
Yep.
Won't be long now.
Indeed.
A very profitable enterprise for all concerned.
But risky for some.
No problems, are there? Plain sailing, mate.
Talk to you soon.
(PHONE HANGS UP) MAN ON TAPE: Plain sailing, mate.
Talk to you soon.
MURDOCH: Do we know the number he rang? Yeah, it's a phone box in Hampton, boss.
Tricky.
FAITHFUL: Very tricky.
Who's QC? Don't know.
Apart from the obvious.
A silk? FLUFF: Could be our big break in life, boss - the importation from the legal eagles.
And what about the bloke he was talking to? Do we know who that is? FAITHFUL: No.
Bloody cryptic.
You could read anything into it.
Come on, boss.
Don't be a wet blanket all your bloody life.
FAITHFUL: This is the second call - a hotel in Port Melbourne, front desk.
WOMAN ON TAPE: North Side Lodge.
FLANNAGAN ON TAPE: How are you? Hi.
How's it going? Good, good.
And you? I had another call from Baz.
Oh, look, I told him to cool it.
If he makes contact again, he'll wish he was back in stir.
He wants to see you.
I told him to piss off.
You know where he is now? No.
I made it clear our business was over and done with.
He's crazy.
You know what he's capable of.
He won't leave me alone.
Sharon what do you want me to do? (SIGHS) I don't know.
Can I see you? No, I'm in Dandenong this afternoon.
I'm scared, Vic.
OK, OK.
Usual place? After work? Thanks.
Well, who's that? The girlfriend? It's not a crime to have a bit of tail on the side, is it? FAITHFUL: We think it's the bloke she's been talking about who's the interesting one.
Baz? Yeah.
You think he might be one of your heads, one of our ag burgs? They've labelled him as a crazy.
And it's a crazy we're after.
Now, why else would Flannagan be so jumpy? MURDOCH: Does the name Baz mean anything to you, Darby? No, sir.
Every crook named Barry's been called Baz at some stage or another.
Coincidence.
If there's a connection with the burgs, you find it.
I'll persuade Wallace to keep the shadowers on Flannagan.
You'll have to deal with the woman yourselves.
Del.
You reading me? Go ahead, Knicks.
This bloke's a cunning bastard.
He's out in the open.
(CAMERA CLICKS) Yeah, I got them.
Watch out for the Majors.
FLUFF: I heard that, mate.
We're sitting off in Baker Street.
We'll take the sheila when she leaves.
FLANNAGAN: Good hat, matey.
Has that prick rung again? SHARON: No, thank God.
Maybe he's taken no for an answer.
ON RECORDING: Maybe.
Go on, matey.
He knows where I work.
That's the worry.
Look, if he fronts, get word to me somehow.
Yeah, OK.
I'll sort the germ out.
Good on you, Marty.
(TAPE STOPS) DARBY: Right, well, while you guys have been out having fun, I've been going through the photo books.
Sharon Ann Fowkes.
How's that? Fowkes.
F-O-W-K-E-S.
Single, 29.
Priors for possession of heroin, and prostitution.
Fowkes by name, Fowkes by nature, by the look of it.
She's working at the North Side Lodge and currently living at 8A Bryson Road, St Kilda, with her four-year-old son.
Sounds like she's doing it the hard way.
Sounds like she's doing it on her back, mate.
Is Flannagan porking her? I'm not so sure.
They seem to be close, though.
What about Baz? Dunno.
Hope to find out more about that in a couple of days.
I want to tie in Flannagan to his receiver.
We've got to find a link somewhere.
Alright, say we go for a warrant on Flannagan's bank accounts.
I could see someone at management level and just skip his local bloke.
That's very devious.
Do it.
Docket, get on to the council.
Get them to pull the parking tickets from round Rhys's house and shops.
Anything with Flannagan's rego on it.
No worries.
Fluff.
It's alright, mate.
I'm with her.
Fluff, I want you to get on to Telecom.
Phone statements.
OK, mate.
How'd you go with your mate down at Australia Post? I think he's got cold bloody feet.
Well, hunt him up, OK? I want a log on all his mail coming in.
Postmarks, return addresses.
Even if it's dirty postcards, alright? You got it, yep.
Now, Wallace has given us the dogs till the end of the week.
Now, this prick is up to his neck in shit.
So let's make the shit stick.
Sharon passing.
Jeez, mate, on a scale of one to 10.
I'd give her one.
Phew! FLANNAGAN: How are you? SHARON: Bit scared.
Has Shithead been in touch? No, I had a bad night last night.
Why? Oh, Marty was up most of the night coughing pretty bad.
Mmm.
That's no good, eh? I'm taking him to the doctor after work.
I'm hoping it's just a wog and not bronchitis like last time.
"8:05 - received call from Flannagan.
No sighting of Baz.
"Brief talk of sick kid.
"12:10 - left to buy lunch.
"12:20 - returned.
"15:40 - left work early.
"Picked up kid from the care centre, took him to the doctor.
"17:12 - left the doctor, took the tram home.
" Docket's sitting off the place now.
That's it, folks.
So in other words, two days and still no sign of Baz? No, well, she's obviously freaked by him, whoever he is.
Scared that he might turn up, but why, who knows? How'd you blokes go? Telecom? Ah, no go, mate.
They'll spin you a yarn, but you twig that it's bullshit.
Bank statements? Uh, went back 12 months.
But nothing tied in with Rhys.
And same with parking tickets - no joy.
Marvellous.
Mate, what about Flannagan and his mate in the phone box? He rang him back yet? You know, about the QC business.
DARBY: No, not a peep.
Grumpy, can you get on the local TOG? See if anyone recognised Flannagan's car.
HOWIE: Bit of a bloody long shot, isn't it? Mate, can you just do it? MAN: Hey, Fluff.
Yeah, mate.
Some bastard wants you.
What's your extension? FLUFF: Oh, depends how angry it is.
(DARBY LAUGHS) FLUFF: 2405, mate.
MAN: Darby.
DARBY: Yep.
How are you going with the Miracodes? Oh, shit, I forgot.
Well, you know how to hurt a bloke.
Can you give me five minutes? Boom-Boom! How'd you go with the Queensland heads? One of them pulled a blade at me.
Had to butt-strike him with my shotty.
That's nasty.
Yeah, broke his jaw.
MAN: Served the prick right.
BOOMER: That's what I told him.
IID's at the hospital holding his hand.
If it'd been in bloody Bananaland, I'd have broken his bloody neck! Watch your back, mate.
FLUFF: Noddy, mate.
Yes.
Aussie Post on the blower, mate.
Apparently there was an airmail letter came through for Flannagan yesterday.
Guess what was in it.
What? Bill of bloody lading, mate.
For a consignment of goods, QC Export Company, Quezon City, Phil-o-bloody-ppines, mate.
Mate, if I was a big fag like Grumpy, I'd give you a kiss.
That's great, mate.
Hi.
Sergeant Faithful, Victoria Police.
Yeah, go in.
Thanks.
My shout next time you're down.
Hooroo.
Sergeant Faithful.
As I live and breathe.
So how are things going in the high-powered world of Customs? Must be my day for the law.
I've just been on the bone to your federal colleagues in Canberra.
The, uh, plastic fantastics.
Now, now, now.
Nature's gentlemen.
Especially if you stuff up an X-rated movie seizure like I did last week.
They copped their fair whack, did they? Anyway, enough slagging off our allies in crime fighting.
What can I do for you? I need some details on a container that's due in from Quezon City next week.
Oh, yeah? Bit suss, is it? Well, you tell me and we'll both know.
FAITHFUL: He's imported 12 times in the last three years and always used the same supplier.
Now he's using the QC mob.
And you think that's the same QC he was talking about on the phone? Yes.
What does it say the goods are? MOON: Miscellaneous tableware.
That could be anything.
Could be miscellaneous tableware.
FAITHFUL: Could be drugs too.
What do you think? Well, Flannagan's stalls are legit.
There's no freelancing on the side.
Maybe he's simply changed importers.
Then again, maybe he had to.
The Philippine anti-corruption squads have been tightening the screws lately.
That's what I reckon.
OK, so if this is going on, there's a good chance the dockers will be involved.
They've got the wharves locked as tight as a fish's arse.
Flannagan's an ex-docker.
So where's the contact? I don't know, yet.
(MAN COUGHS LOUDLY) Nipper.
Hey.
How are you? Long time, no see.
How's the family? Oh, good, good.
Pot? Couple of pots, thanks, mate.
Lad's playing for the school now.
What, ruck? Goalkeeper.
God.
How long have you been in this country for? 27 years.
Still a bloody heathen.
Come on.
So, what's happening down the docks? Fuck-all.
Very quiet.
Why? What you looking for? Well, I need a bit of a favour.
Is that a wee one or a big one? Well, it's a little one to you.
Big one to me.
I hear Sharon's a bit of a good-Iooker.
I hadn't noticed.
Moony.
Nothing? No.
Not that he said.
He's gonna have to get back to me in a couple of days and let me know.
He would know? This gig, I mean.
He's been on the wharf 20 years.
He got caught up in a container scam couple of years back.
I helped to keep him out of the nick.
He's been giving me gold ever since.
Informers are a great source, but you never know when they're going to shit in your lap.
If he hears anything, he'll let me know.
So where's that leave you? Couple of irons in the fire.
You got any other irons? Electronic.
Surveillance.
Maybe we won't get much movement down there until a couple of days before the ship docks.
Hey, Grumpy.
Where's your wisdom tooth? At the back.
Why? Ohh! Christ, it's giving me buggery.
Oh! Fair dinkum, I'm falling apart.
Who's that? Dunno.
Crime 30 to Crime 85.
Noddy, don't quote me, mate, but I think we've just sighted the mystery Baz.
Shortish.
Slim build.
Has he got a moustache? Yeah, sort of a straggly one, but the bad news is, black hair.
Shit, mate.
Yeah, roger that.
Keep us posted.
Well, that still leaves the other prick.
HOWIE: Hello! Sharon's heading back.
Our bloke's eyeballed her.
(CAMERA CLICKS) Noddy, we've got a bit of an altercation here.
Our bloke's hands-on.
She's pissed him off.
He's hitting the toe.
He's crossing the road.
He's getting into a green Torana '74, '75.
A real shitheap.
Couldn't get the rego number.
FAITHFUL: Stay with him, Grump.
Darbs will need that rego.
Roger.
DARBY: Basil Lederwicz.
Also known as Baz.
31.
Thought to be living at 276 Duncan Street, St Kilda.
MURDOCH: Is that where your crew tracked him? About two hours ago.
Looks like an accommodation house.
He's got recent priors for drug of addiction and armed robbery.
Trying to do over a bank.
When did he get out of stir? As far as I can tell, about nine months ago, but I'm still checking.
Any connection with our other two? Not a lot.
Only that the bank and the drugs charges were about the same time as Sharon's possession.
This could be your coincidence, but I'm trying to chase up the informant at St Kilda CI, get more details.
Either way, he's looking good.
This black hair could be out of a bottle.
Now, he's a drug user, he's into stick-ups, and now he's tied in with Flannagan.
Assuming Flannagan's our man.
We don't know why this Baz is pestering this Sharon girl or why Flannagan's spooked by him.
What we do know is that TIG is screaming at me for tying up half of BCI.
So I hope you're right.
SHARON: It's me.
FLANNAGAN: I said not to ring me at home.
He was outside work today when I came back from lunch.
Shit.
Wanting some bucks for a hit.
If he gets off his face, he'll end up being picked up by the Did he follow you home? I don't think so.
He had a car and drove off.
We can't talk now.
I'll ring you first thing tomorrow morning.
(HANGS UP) WOMAN ON RADIO: We're still on Fitzwilliam Street - 60 clicks.
Three for cover.
Weaving all over the frigging road.
MAN ON RADIO: OK, held back at the lights.
Let T-Bone take it.
Where's Baz now? Ah, he's still trying to score.
Gonna wait till he props, then Fluff and Grumpy are gonna do his house over with the Goose.
Good intelligence for the Drug Squad on street users.
Yeah.
MAN ON RADIO: Go, T-Bone.
T-BONE: We're still on Morton.
30 clicks.
Looks like he's headed for Footscray.
Roger that, mate.
Crime 85 to Crime 30.
FLUFF: Crime 30.
What's the go, Nod? Fluffy, I reckon you got about half an hour.
FLUFF: All clear, guys.
Police Co-op credit card.
Don't leave home without it.
Noddy, just executed the warrant, mate.
FAITHFUL: Roger, received that.
Keep me posted.
DARBY: Hello? Yes, it's Senior Detective Darby here, from the Major Crime Squad.
I'm trying to get an update on a Detective Constable Brendan Cox.
Right.
Thanks.
Thanks for that.
Ah! Saved my life.
Thank you.
What's happening? Well, according to the dogs, Baz is spending half the day trying to feed his habit, but no-one takes credit anymore.
Well, that's the cash economy for you.
Oh, right.
Thanks.
Where is he now? Thank you.
(HANGS UP) Any change? FAITHFUL: No, nothing yet.
Oh, did you hear the latest about Boomer's trouble? Well, what's that? Well, press have got onto it.
It's the usual beat-up.
Oh, one-sided bastards.
DARBY: Oh, he is? Right! Evidently, he's at Prahran CI now.
That's the member who did, uh, Sharon for possession.
So I'm gonna go there on my way home to see if there's any connections with the other charges.
And I'm gonna give them a blast for not updating their bloody records.
Connections with Baz? Yeah, well, it happened about the same time.
Well, you never know.
He might know something.
See you, Peter.
Yeah, good hunting.
MAN ON RADIO: Zulu 1 to Crime 85.
Noddy.
Zulu 1, go.
Target scored something, mate.
Heading back towards his flat.
Could be as high as a kite by the time he gets here.
Uh, Zulu 1, received that, and, uh, thanks, Del.
Damn.
FLUFF: Check out Sherlock bloody Holmes here, mate.
HOWIE: Anything? Real rat turds.
And you? Not exactly chockers with stolen antiques, is it? FAITHFUL: Crime 85 to Crime 30.
Go, Pete.
You'd best get out of there.
Dogs have got the target heading back your way.
Roger that.
Time to go, lan.
Illuminentary, my dear Watson.
Well, looks like real ratshit sort of trumps.
Eh, Goose? MAN: Noddy, mate.
He's all over the road here.
Turned left at Wilton.
I think he's going to the motel.
Roger, mate.
Thanks.
Sharon! Baz! Please! I told you! I want to talk! Look, just nick off! Sharon! Sharon! Bitch! Baz is hassling Sharon, Noddy.
So she's just gone back inside.
FLANNAGAN: Hello? SHARON: He's here.
What? Outside.
He was waiting for me to leave work.
I'll be there in five minutes.
Yeah, right.
Thanks, mate.
Fluff, dump the Goose.
Back up the dogs.
Flannagan's going after Baz.
HOWIE: Crime 30 to Crime 85.
FLUFF: Yeah, that's our boy.
Flannagan's arrived.
FLANNAGAN: Baz! Mate.
I want to have a word.
HOWIE: He's, uh, talking to Baz.
(CAMERA CLICKS) FLUFF: Oh, here we go.
HOWIE: Uh, Pete? FAITHFUL: Go ahead.
This could get physical.
What's the go? Just hang off.
Don't tip your hand.
If Flannagan susses, we could lose the lot.
I'll ring D24, get them to send a local car.
Drive-past, no action.
FLUFF: Ooh, shit.
(CAMERA CLICKS) HOWIE: Ouch.
FLUFF: Nasty bastard.
Piss off! BAZ: Dickhead! HOWIE: Hmm.
Um (CLEARS THROAT) Crime 30 to Crime 85.
Drama over.
FAITHFUL: Roger, received.
That's our boy, mate.
MURDOCH: Flannagan gave him a couple and sent him on his way? Yes.
Why? Even if he had rubbed Flannagan up the wrong way, why would he give him a belting out in the open like that? He was taking one hell of a risk if this man's one of our ag burglars.
We don't know the connection with the woman.
Now, it wouldn't be the first time that a bloke's come unstuck over a bit of crumpet.
Oh, it doesn't feel right somehow.
Well, sir, time will tell.
Any forensic evidence? Nothing at the house.
Typical junkie.
I've been to Corrective Services, drug rehab and two bloody parlours.
And I'm about to give you a pain in the arse.
Baz was on with Sharon.
When? About four years back, after she split up with Flannagan.
Now, she met Flannagan when she was stripping.
And he set her up in a little bit of a love nest.
Now, when he wouldn't leave his wife, she split without telling him she was three months pregnant.
So the kid's his? Yep.
So after she had the boy, she met up with Baz, who was on two caps of heroin a day.
And he got her onto it.
But when the money from her escort work wasn't enough, he robbed a bank, got himself caught in securities crime, didn't he? Clever.
So Flanagan found out about the boy.
And he made sure she did rehab, got her the flat and the job and has been keeping an eye on them ever since.
MURDOCH: He's back on with her? DARBY: No, it's all straight down the line, apparently.
I wonder if his wife knows about this.
So when Baz got out, he started nosing around Sharon again.
That doesn't rule him out.
He got out of the revolving bloody door at Pentridge, but he was extradited straight up to New South Wales for an outstanding goods in custody.
He spent the past five months in Long Bay.
Well, that rules him out of our inquiry.
I'm sorry, Noddy.
(MAN KNOCKS) Sir.
Yeah? We've got company.
IID.
Shit! Oh, Noddy.
Yeah, mate? That bloke ring back? Which bloke's that? They didn't say.
Pom, by the sound of it.
Darbs, I need those bloody Miracodes.
DARBY: I know you do.
And I did say five minutes.
FAITHFUL: So you're saying the container won't be coming in off the dock.
NIPPER: Oh, it will, but the drugs will not be in it.
They'll probably bash a hole in the side accidentally with a forklift or something, whack it in for repairs, take the drugs out and then stick them in the van.
What van? Delivery van.
Drive out the gear next morning and Bob's your bloody uncle.
That's very neat.
Who's organising this? I'm not sure.
But there's only one bloke it could be.
Keep your eye on Rocky Wilson.
Word is he's making a big comeback.
Oh, one other thing.
You said there'd be, like, five days before this happened.
We hear that this job's still got two weeks.
Two weeks? That's the word.
Thanks, mate.
I owe you.
Aye.
I'll remember.
Not a soul.
I want to see my son grow up.
Yeah, he's here now, digger.
Got a big smile on his face.
You know that importation we were talking about the other day? Yeah, I think it might be a real goer, if you know what I mean.
Yeah, it'd be nice to cut Vic Pol off at the pass.
No problems.
Let's just say I'm square for that cock-up.
No problems.
Thanks a lot, mate.
See you, mate.
Yeah, digger.
He's gone.
Rocky Wilson? How reliable's this information? It's corroborated at Customs.
But we still don't know what's coming in.
Not yet, we don't, sir, but we will before it arrives.
MOON: It's either heroin or cocaine.
Now, even without the ag burgs, that is a top pinch.
So, what are you saying? Maintain surveillance on this Flannagan? OK, I'll try the chief super.
Well, I have to say, this'll be your last shot.
He's getting sick of me saying, "We have reason to believe.
" Thank you very much, sir.
How'd you go with that other suspect? Baz? He ended up getting scratched, sir.
Scratched? At the time of the ag burgs, he had another engagement.
Love spending my nights like this.
(LAUGHS) Ditto.
Hey, did you bring your cards? Why? Could be your lucky night! We'll see.
No hamburgers? Get stuffed! What's happening? Nothing much.
Flannagan's on a losing streak.
Dropped more dough than you earn in a week.
About time we had a little bit of luck.
(SIRENS BLARE IN DISTANCE) Mmm-mmm (SIGHS) Hi.
I was just about to push off.
Just waiting on the running sheets.
Mm-hm.
How's it going? Hitting a few hurdles with this one.
Mm-hm? Every time I think I'm gonna kick a goal, it folds on me.
I got Wallace breathing down my neck.
And the only thing that keeps me going is I know I know it's him.
Flannagan? Yeah.
Has to be.
Hmm.
Well, trust your sixth sense, huh? I am.
But what if I'm wrong? Darling.
Come on! Mm-hm? What about that dinner and our open fire? Well, I'm not very hungry.
But the fire sounds great.
Oh! Wakey, wakey, hands off snakey.
You can ignore that, Knicks.
Noddy, he's going shopping again, mate.
(CAMERA CLICKS) He's going inside.
FLANNAGAN: Baz show again? SHARON: No.
No sign of him.
Thanks, Vic.
See you later.
He's dialling again.
You ready, Knicks? (PANTS) We got an empty box here, Noddy.
MAN: It's me.
QC finally came through.
FLANNAGAN: What's the story? Definitely on its way.
Due in a fortnight.
No more hold-ups.
Terrific news.
Yeah, I'm paying that bloke today, as arranged.
Oh, let me know how you go.
(HANGS UP) OK, Knicks, he's rung off.
Any sign? (PANTS) No show.
MAN ON RADIO: Target's left the store.
Flannagan's as cunning as a shithouse rat.
He's changed plans.
Rung a new number.
Shit, mate.
MAN ON RADIO: Roger.
Change of plans, mate.
He's coming my way.
No sweat.
I've got him.
Hey, Nod.
What? Got a second? He's increasing speed.
Moony, there's been a bit of a BCI are pulling the dogs off.
What is this, April Fools' Day? What, are you kidding me? No, no, I've just been speaking to the senior sergeant.
Del's getting the news on the radio.
This TIG job - it's gone down in a big way.
Don't they realise? They could jeopardise the whole operation.
It was always on the cards.
We knew it might happen.
Just when you think you're doing OK, kicked in the guts by your own.
Oh, that's the ball game.
We'll roll with the punches.
Even if we have to do the dogging ourselves.
Yep.
If we can find the target.
Crime 85 to Zulu 1.
Crime 85 to Zulu 1, Zulu 2.
Any Zulu unit receiving? Shit.
Grump, how many cars have we got? Uh, as of this minute, none.
Moony? Yep, see what I can do.
Docket, can you get onto Del's office? Ascertain from Del the last sighting of our target.
Darbs, could you get me a list of Flannagan's known associates? Every address we got.
Yeah, no worries.
Thanks.
Fluff.
I'll grab Deputy Dawg's car.
I'll piss off to the markets.
You're a mind-reader.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
And I've lost the prick.
Crime 30 to Crime 85.
Russell here.
Sitting off Morrie's.
MAN: At the motel.
No bloody sign.
Uh, at the market now.
Shit.
It's gonna take some time, by the look of it.
Crime 30 to Crime 85.
Russell here.
Flannagan's just arrived at Morrie's.
Dropped him off.
I got him.
FAITHFUL: Crime 85, proceed.
I'll have Fluff and Docket join you.
Oh, and, um, Grumpy? Don't lose him.
Piece of piss, mate.
Piece of piss.
HOWIE: Coming up to the roundabout.
Right indicator on.
I've got, uh, two for cover.
He's doing about 60 clicks.
No problem.
Oh, shit, he's gone round again.
Russell, hang back.
Don't go round.
Do not follow the bastard.
I'm still with him.
Very bloody tricky.
This is definitely not a piece of piss, guys.
He's got eyes in his arse.
He's looking for a tail.
We seem to be, uh, heading for the city.
Grumpy, are you there? He's off the air.
Doesn't have a portable radio.
Fluff, how far off are you from Little Bourke Street? FLUFF: Uh, about five minutes.
Maybe, mate.
Detective Senior Sergeant Moon, Major Crime Squad.
I need assistance and fast.
Little Bourke Street area.
Who have you got there? (TRAM BELL DINGS) WOMAN: Tickets, please.
Tickets.
Thank you.
Tickets, please.
Uh Uh, my ticket.
Could I get a, um um, three-hour ticket, thanks? Have you got the right change? Uh, no.
That's all I've got.
There.
Thank you.
Tickets, please.
Tickets.
(BELL RINGS) Oi! Police, CIB, mate.
Pull it up.
It's urgent.
Stop the tram, mate.
Stop the tram.
Open the doors.
Open them.
G'day, mate.
You, uh you looking for me? Sorry, mate, what? Looking for you? What do you want, copper? Hey? Hey, hey, you got a problem? Hi, darls.
Mate, you've got a problem.
Hi, darls.
How are you? I'm with the police force, the CIB.
I need a little bit of help.
Can you get me out of here? Well, I just Honestly, I'll explain in just a moment, OK? Thanks a lot.
Phew! So how's your day been? Jeez, I'm bloody glad I caught you.
It'd be a long walk home.
Well? Just one moment.
You alright, mate? You want me to call a policeman? You scared the shit out of me back there, pal.
Explain, mister, and you'd better make it bloody good.
Lady, you just saved my life.
Uh, excuse me.
Can I use your phone? Yes.
Can you call 505-4986 for me, please? (PRESSES BUTTONS) 505-4986.
OK.
Here you go.
Thank you very much.
Look, I'm sorry for throwing a bit of a fright into you back there.
That's alright.
Pete? It's Russell.
Get Fluff into Flinders Lane, fast.
(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS) (SPEAKS INAUDIBLY) (CAMERA CLICKS) FAITHFUL: If the container comes through, we've got a connection.
Flannagan and Rocky Wilson independently in the frame for an importation.
If that's not good enough for Mr Wallace, I don't know what is.
What do you reckon? Oh, it's two separate bits of information.
Peter's got them tied together.
Yeah, I think the chickens are coming home to roost.
I've always said, time spent on reconnaissance is never time wasted.
And a man is not a camel.
(ALL LAUGH AND CHATTER) HOWIE: I'm sorry, will you just excuse me for a second? Oi! Hey! Can you keep the noise down? I can't hear a bloody thing! FLUFF: Talking to your mum, are you? (FAITHFUL LAUGHS) I'm sorry.
Yeah, what were you saying? Saturday? Uh Yep.
Yeah, I'm free Saturday.
Well, cheap anyway.
I said, I'm Hey, Del.
Now, listen, Del.
I hear that your, uh your TIG operation fell through, so I'm told.
Yeah, well, it looks like you blokes can do without us.
Oh, yeah? But maybe not totally without us.
Is that a BCI look or what? Spider snapped Morrie talking to these two heads at the market just after Flannagan left.
Could be our mystery man from the phone box.
No, ran a check on the plates, mate.
And guess what.
What? Plastic fantastics, mate.
(LAUGHS) Bullshit.
Get away.
The AFP are muscling in.
Well, mate, there's another good job gone west, eh? Won't take the Feds long to screw it up.
Where'd you hear this information? Yeah, yeah.
OK, then.
So, um, 8:30.
Yeah, be lovely.
Yeah, I'll look forward to it.
OK.
Bye-bye.
Grumpy, here you go.
Ah, Grumpy.
You got a can? Uh Yeah, yeah.
I Look, you know that that woman that helped me out the other day? Yeah.
She was, um She's just on the phone.
And, uh She wants to take me out to dinner.
I think she wants to use my body.
Yeah? Yeah.
Grumpy, my boy.
Grumpy.
You're a dirty little punk.
Oh!