Underbelly s05e07 Episode Script

You want me to knock a cop? They're flesh and blood like anyone else, mate.
- Yeah, but - But what? Oh, don't tell me you're gutless, eh? No way.
I've just got a few other things on.
- Yeah? Well, drop 'em.
- No, I can't.
- You can.
- Can't.
- What things? - Another hit.
What? Oh, fuck.
First Undies, now you.
You blokes are bloody dangerous when you think you're smart enough to go out on your own.
- I've gotta make a living.
- Oh, bullshit.
I've got a family.
Tahnee's about ready to drop.
I don't wanna hear your fucking sob story.
You're doing it.
You're doing it, end of story.
Gaz, we've got a problem.
No listening devices for tomorrow.
Techies say they're all assigned to other gigs.
That's bullshit 'cause we've got warrants.
Told them that.
I cracked the shits.
- We're trying to prevent a hit.
- Told 'em that too.
Fucking cake-eaters! I'll go out and buy the LDs.
I'm getting a good signal from the bug in the red Volvo and the one in the silver Vee Dub.
Yeah, yeah.
No-one likes a smug bastard, Gary.
Yeah, well, a win's a win, Brownie.
Let's just hope Vito makes it three mornings in a row.
He'll be here.
He'll be here.
Hey, you ever been in the Sheraton on the Park? - For a drink? - No, for a weekend.
Thinking about taking Tracy there.
Sounds very romantic, Gary.
That's the fucking idea, Brownie.
Oh, hello, Vito.
Don't park there, dickhead! Take the other spot! The last two mornings, he's parked there and they've talked there.
Well, here comes muscles.
Fuck.
Hang on, hang on, hang on.
Gotta get this moving.
Tran's getting impatient.
Yeah, we got 'em, we got 'em, got 'em.
It can't be done.
Did you call him? Yeah, he's cool.
I've got the merchandise secure in my lockup.
- Lockup? - Be operational Oh, don't you start with that military bullshit too.
He said 'lockup'.
Where's his lockup? Let's go.
Christiansen lives in Glebe.
His place doesn't have a garage.
I did a search of storage facilities in the area closest are in Camperdown and Ultimo.
Manager of the Camperdown place ID'd Christiansen.
I'll get a warrant.
Hey, you reckon chicks really go for bods like this? Some do, some don't.
Impressive guns.
Well, well.
What do we have here? Interesting.
Very impressive guns.
Despite uncovering a cache of firearms and drugs, Strike Force Tuno did not have the resources to mount around-the-clock surveillance on Christiansen's storage shed.
- How's it going there, mate? - Yeah, all done.
Yep? Good.
Instead, a concealed camera allowed them to monitor the big man's comings and goings remotely, from Tuno's headquarters.
- Yeah? - Everything's set for tomorrow.
Copy that.
Eagle one is good to go.
- Brett.
Honey? - Coming, hon.
Going dark from N-O-W until operation completed.
Over and out.
Brett? - What is it, hon? - I need a back rub.
Mummy need a Daddy special? Hmm? - Brett you've gotta stop.
No.
- I'm almost there, baby.
- Brett, something's wrong! - What? - Oh, Brett! Oh! Ohh.
- Baby, did you come? - Oh, no, my waters broke.
- What?! Oh! The baby's coming.
We've gotta go.
What?! Are you alright? Pull your fucking pants up and let's go! This is Decker.
I've got a What does that mean? My wife is having a baby.
Tonight, now, now.
- She's in labour.
- Yeah, congratulations.
- Well, I'm calling a code blue.
- What the fuck does that mean? I'm putting the mission on hold.
- Bullshit.
- My wife is having a baby.
How bad would it make me look if I pissed off now? Mate, I don't really care.
We're all set ready to go tomorrow.
- You do it.
- What? I'm not doing it! You do it! Mate I'm not the shooter, you're the bloody shooter.
Look on it as a promotion.
Time to step up, soldier! - This isn't my thing - It's a cakewalk.
He's a pussy! He's not gonna be expecting any trouble.
- Just point and squeeze.
- I don't do this type of thing.
Anyway, I'm not doing it! End of fucking discussion! A pussy.
A cakewalk.
Decker's wife's giving birth.
They're at the hospital.
Imagine having him for your old man.
Well, at least we'll get a night off to relax.
Come for Chrissie drinks? Yeah, I'll be there in a while, mate.
- See ya over there.
- Thanks, Brownie.
Gary Jubelin.
That's very formal, Detective Inspector.
Sorry, it's a force of habit.
We don't have to check in tomorrow till after 2:00 so you wanna get some lunch in the city first? Sounds good.
Hey, I bought something new to wear.
- What, a new dress? - Nope.
You'll see.
Now you've got me intrigued.
Good, I hope I can always do that.
You go and have fun tonight.
I'll see you when you get home.
I won't be late.
- I love you.
- I love you too, Trace.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
Merry Christmas.
- I missed the first shout.
Go on, pony up.
Can I get another beer, Grace? - Where's the boss? - On his way.
Just one rule tonight, folks no shop talk.
- Agreed? - Agreed.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
Cheers.
You know what I don't get about Perish? How he can fly under the radar? - Can he ever! - Someone must know.
You fucker.
By the time the nearest patrol got there, Michael Christiansen was gone.
We've got surveillance at his flat, also Vito Russo's house, but so far he hasn't shown.
Decker's still in the labour ward with his wife.
Maybe Christiansen's up to some other badness.
Yeah, I'll tell you what, we're not gonna take that risk.
I've issued a KALOF on his car, posted him on COPS.
You need to check in with your fizzes.
Talk to the local area commands.
Rattle as many cages as you can.
I want Michael Christiansen found before a hit goes down.
For those of you who had weekends planned, I'm sorry.
This is where we are, so let's get into it.
So much for Chrissie drinks.
Tuno, the job that never sleeps.
- Trace.
- Hey, you.
- On your way home already? - I'm not gonna make it home.
- I'm sorry.
- Nup.
- Rightio.
Yeah, I understand.
- Yeah.
I'm sorry.
I'll talk to you later.
'Bye.
- Sin City, what do you reckon? - It's an airport hotel.
So fucking what? Hey, we got cable porn.
Paul, we just drove 10 hours.
I am busting for a piss and a shower.
Go have a piss and I'll see you in the shower.
Paul Elliot Melbourne gangster, drug dealer and associate of the Moran family, a man intent on some serious badness.
- Come back to bed.
- Can't.
Get us some brekkie, then.
What am I, fucking room service? - Then where are you going? - Out.
If I'm not back in an hour, then I'm dead.
- Yeah, g'day, mate.
- This number 17? Yeah, it is.
How can I help you? - Where's Tran? - Who? Asian prick, said he'd be here.
Oh, mate, I'm just doing some painting.
Um, a Vietnamese guy owns this place, but I think he's nicked up to the shops for a bit, maybe gone to the bank.
- Wanna come in and wait? - Yeah.
I'll wait.
Come on, babe, come on.
- Keep breathing.
That's it.
- Come on.
- That's it, baby, come on.
- Almost there.
Almost there.
Give me another big push.
What? I'm sorry, hon, I'm sorry.
- I've gotta take this.
- Brett? - We need to talk.
- Oh, Rooster.
- Brett! - I've gotta go.
I'll call you back.
- Come on, almost there.
- Come on, baby, come on.
- You can do this.
- That's it, come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Oh, fuck! - I am having a fucking baby! - Yeah, mate, it's done.
Two in the chest, one in the head.
Yeah, right.
Brett! Oh, my God! - Oh, baby! Almost there.
- Keep going, keep going.
Oh, we've got another little baby boy, darling.
It's another little baby boy! You gonna answer that? You cock.
I guess not.
This is Paul.
Leave a message.
Hang on a sec.
So the boat's all set to go tomorrow, Jeremy? - Yeah, tomorrow morning.
- Yeah, right.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Hello? What happened to calling me back, fuckwit? Mate, I'm sorry.
I've just kind of had my hands full.
We need a face-to-face.
Usual place, tomorrow at 10:00.
- Mate - Just be there.
Still planning on knocking that pig? Fucking oath I am.
And have every cop in the country looking for you? Oh, you know me, Muzz, I'm the invisible man.
Now, what say we go and get some real chicks? How about you pull your head out of your arse and get on board with this idea, eh? - Hey.
- Hey.
- You alright? - Yeah.
- Dinner's in the microwave.
- I ate at work.
Meant to call.
But you didn't.
No, I got sidetracked.
I'm sorry.
I gotta go in tomorrow.
- It's Sunday.
- I know.
So much for salvaging any part of our romantic weekend, hmm? Trace - This is your boat? - Nuh.
Do you know how to drive it? Er, point and try not to hit anything? Oh, Jesus.
Let's just get the thing in the fucking water first.
Boys, watch out, this fucker is heavy.
- Have you got it? - Yeah.
- Oh.
- Beer? - Everyone out on the street? - Some are.
Command wouldn't cover the overtime so we're down a few.
- Who puts in for overtime? - You'd be surprised.
You want the bad news or the bad news? We lost Decker.
They cut back our hours on surveillance.
Night shift clocked off at midnight, he was at home.
Morning crew arrived at 6:00, his car was gone.
He's not at the hospital and their other kid's staying with the wife's parents.
So he could be anywhere? Fuck.
So anyway so two in the chest, one in the head.
Bang, bang.
Bang.
So fucking easy.
- Did you clean the place up? - Yeah, spotless.
Mate, you ever notice how bleach smells like spoof? - Police! Don't move! - Oh, f Fuck! Scare the shit out of us, why don't ya? Oh, serve yourself right for not posting a watch, dickheads.
If I was the heat, you'd be gone.
Alright smart-arse, but who was the one that did the job like a fucking pro? - Show a bit of respect.
- My wife was having a baby.
I think that's a pretty good excuse.
- Oh, congratulations.
- So how was that? Honestly? Like watching your favourite pub burn down.
Make sure you drill some holes so it sinks to the bottom.
- Where's Camille? - Doctor's appointment.
Brownie.
Get on the ground! Get on your guts! - It's done.
- Jesus Christ.
- Michael Christiansen.
- What the fuck is this shit?! Michael Christiansen, you're under arrest for possession of unlicensed firearms and a prohibited substance.
- The fuck is this bullshit? - Get him up.
On your back.
Who the fuck are you?! What the fuck is this all about?! It's Paul Elliot.
Fuck.
We're too late.
Who's Paul Elliot? He's a Melbourne-based crook.
He's a friend of the Morans.
He's got form for drug possession, speed.
And you think he's been hit? His girlfriend reported him missing four days ago, last seen in Sydney.
Send a team to Melbourne, interview her, get some DNA We knew about the hit, we were all over it, how'd this happen? How's this gonna look when it hits the bloody papers? First of all, Howard, we didn't know who, how or when.
We weren't all over it.
We didn't have the fucking resources to be all over it.
Didn't have the manpower, the technical support, the assets.
- Yeah, enough excuses.
- These aren't excuses, Howard! If this man is dead, there aren't excuses.
These are just the facts.
Alright.
I know you did everything that you could do.
It's just It's a bad business.
Have you put the frighteners on Michael Christiansen? We've only questioned him about the drugs and firearms.
- Why are you holding back? - Because we don't have enough.
Got no body.
He can say he found the wallet in the street.
We play our hand too early, we lose everything.
OK.
We'll do it your way, Gary.
Just make sure you get these bastards.
Get all of 'em.
At the time of his arrest, Michael Christiansen had three mobile phones in his possession.
Nearly all the calls made and received around December 6 were to prepaid mobiles with bogus registrations.
Well, except for one number that appears twice.
It's registered to a Jeremy Postlewaight.
I pulled the logs for his number and ran a check.
More of these are to legitimately registered numbers including two on December 5 to a Richard Curtis.
- Alright.
Has he got form? - No.
But he is the registered owner of a 6.
75m motorboat.
- You got an address? - Mm-hm.
Glen, go find the boat.
That's good work, Camille.
Heard you had another doctor's appointment this morning.
- You alright? - Yeah, I'm fine.
Thanks.
- I'll make up the time.
- No, no, don't be silly.
Just, you know, look after yourself.
We found the boat.
The what? The boat you used to dump Paul Elliot's body.
Yeah, I don't know what you're talking about.
No? I've got this young lady who works for me, Michael.
She's incredibly tenacious.
She breeds Dobermans on the side.
We found out about the boat.
Did you know they have security cameras in the harbour? No, I didn't know that, no.
Well, unfortunately for you, she did.
Have a look at that.
See, that's the boat.
Right here, that's you.
- That could be anyone.
- No, that's you.
They're your muscles, aren't they? And that's Vito Russo.
And that's Jeremy Postlewaight.
Oh, yeah, that's when we were headed out the other day for a fishing trip.
We didn't catch anything.
What? You see these? They're filings from the toolbox containing Paul Elliot's body.
Because you drilled holes in it, because you didn't want him doing a Terry Falconer, did you, Michael? What's that shit? We also found some DNA evidence, which I reckon will be a match for Paul Elliot.
Look, it was self-defence.
He tried to kill me.
- You admit killing Paul Elliot? - In self-defence.
He pulled a gun, what could I do? I had to defend myself.
- You didn't intend to kill him? - No.
OK.
You know that lady I spoke about, the real tenacious one? She pulled your credit records, which I've got.
So on the day before you killed Paul Elliot, you bought a big fucking toolbox, alright, big enough to put a body in, for $880.
See that there? Now, that goes to premeditation, Michael.
Which means you're fucked.
Right, um is there any chance I can make a deal or something? We can tell the DPP you cooperated.
Can't offer you much more than that.
What we're gonna do, we're gonna start at the beginning, Michael.
Tell me when and why Anthony Perish commissioned the hit.
Perish? Perish had nothing to do with it.
Don't fuck with me, Michael.
You're in a lot of trouble, OK? - Don't play silly buggers.
- Look, I'm not, I swear! It was some little fucking scary Asian dude.
- Will he stay solid? - Oh, I think so.
You think so?! Shit! Yeah, I'm getting out of town for a while.
- I reckon you should too.
- No, I can't.
Got a job on for Rooster.
I'm putting the A-team back together - you, me, Skits.
Forget it.
I'm outta here.
Vito, mateI'll make it worth your while.
Come on, soldier.
I need you.
I'm not a fucking soldier.
Yeah? Stop calling me that.
It gives me the shits.
Look, Rooster's bad news.
I'd be real careful, mate.
Ciao.
Listen, I want that fucking cop knocked and I want it done now! Mate, a job like this needs meticulous, split-second planning - I need a crack team.
None of them fuckwits know this came from me, alright? - Of course not.
- Less they know, the better.
Roger that! I got the right men for the job.
Then quit stuffing about and get on with it! If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.
And that includes your fucking family.
Understood? December 2008.
Finally, after seven frustrating years, Gary Jubelin judged he had sufficient evidence to charge the men who murdered Terry Falconer.
Witness Frank O'Rourke - codenamed Informant X - gave him premeditation.
Informant Y - Ben Dokic - added a confession from Anthony Perish's own mouth.
And when 'Little Willy' Strong - Informant Z - decided to sign his statement against Decker, Gary had corroboration.
Surely this time the DPP's office wouldn't dare refuse him.
Gary, no need to ask how you've spent Christmas and New Year.
Have I missed something? Your only forensic evidence is the DNA linking Simpson, aka Decker, to the JB's shooting.
- Is that correct? - That's right.
- No eyewitnesses? - No.
But we've got sworn statements testifying to the fact that Anthony Perish, by his own admission, murdered Terry Falconer, and that Brett Simpson, aka Decker, kidnapped and drugged Terry Falconer Yes, yes, Detective, thank you.
I've read those statements.
It's a pity that that's all you have.
- How's Undies? - Shit.
Shared the crap out of me.
- Went to see him this morning.
- Yeah, I did.
Yeah? What did he say? That he misses me and the kids.
Reckons he's gonna need a good lawyer.
I reckon he's gonna need a fucking miracle worker.
What the fuck was he thinking setting up a drug lab, eh?! - You said it was bullshit.
- I done a bit of checking.
Oh, God.
- You knew nothing about it? - No, nothing.
I'll organise a lawyer.
- Here.
- Nuh, it's alright.
Just take the fucking money.
Get your hair done or something.
- You look like shit.
- Thanks, Rooster.
We'll stick together, Loz.
We're family, alright? - What did he say about Tuno? - What? Tuno, the fucking mongrels who arrested him! - I told you to ask him! - I did.
I asked him.
- Jesus Christ! What did he say? - He said it wasn't them.
- He's sure? - Yep, he's sure.
Listen up.
The DPP have given us the green light to arrest Anthony Perish, Andrew Perish and Brett Simpson, aka Decker, for conspiracy to murder Terry Falconer, and Decker for the shooting at JB's Bar and Grill.
Conspiracy to murder, not murder? Murder was always gonna be a big ask, Brownie.
- Fuck! - Brownie.
Chin up, mate, this is good.
Alright? Our number one priority now is finding Anthony Perish.
- My bet's on Mudgee.
- Got that under surveillance.
- And his Hoxton Park address.
- Hoxton Park's a dead loss.
Andrew's in Silverwater.
It's easy enough to pick up Decker.
If we alert Andrew or we go after Decker alone, I'm convinced we're gonna lose Anthony Perish for good.
So it's absolutely critical that we take him and Decker down simultaneously, either when they're together or in a coordinated operation.
Brownie, we'll need all hands on deck on this, which means - Cancelling all holiday leave.
- Ta-ta, holiday.
Afraid so.
We're getting tower dumps from around Decker's home and work, so we're gonna need a list of most likely numbers for the TIs.
- OK.
- Alright.
- This is good.
- Mmm.
Come on, you stupid bloody thing.
- What? - Hon, have you got the nappies? - Yeah.
- Wipes? - Three packets.
- The nipple cream? - Yeah.
- That's all.
- I love you.
We'll see you soon.
- See you soon.
Fucking nipple cream.
There's a cell tower close to the mall.
Because we have an exact time we're almost certain this is the mobile phone number Decker's using.
Let's get a telephone intercept, hope he holds onto that number.
Alright, enough! Hey, prick, just to let you know, time's up.
Mate, I am telling ya, it has been a nightmare couple of weeks.
This kid doesn't sleep.
- I'm putting the team together.
- No more fucking excuses! Mate, I'm begging ya.
I will get this job done.
Can I tell you the plan? I'll explain it to you face-to-face.
- Alright, tomorrow at 10:00.
- Usual place, right? - Nah.
Where we shafted Dokic.
- Mate Just fucking be there! - Gary Jubelin.
- Gary, sorry to get you up.
But we've had an intercept on Decker's phone, and this is not something that can wait till the morning.
- I think this could be it.
- Alright, on my way in.
I gotta go in, Trace.
Hey.
Trace? Just keep the doors locked as a precaution.
- It's alright.
- I always do.
No more fucking excuses! Can I tell you the plan? I'll explain it to you face-to-face.
- Alright, tomorrow at 10:00.
- Usual place, right? - Nah.
Where we shafted Dokic.
- Mate Just fucking be there! So it's not Mudgee.
In Dokic's statement, he said they forced him to make taped admissions in this cafe in Lavender Bay.
for mums with bubs.
Well, at this point, we don't have a choice.
We go in hard and fast before they know what's hit 'em.
Kylie Keogh.
Just letting you know we're moving on Perish and Decker.
- When? - Now.
We're on our way.
You call this a heads-up? I need to get a cameraman there! That's not gonna happen.
They'll be armed.
It's too dangerous.
I don't give a fuck, Gary, we need pictures, I need pictures.
- Please! - Alright, alright.
Then you tell him to stay right back until the scene is secured.
- That's the deal.
- Yeah, sure.
They know the drill.
Give me an address.
There's Decker.
Come on.
Oh, shit! Alright, team one, move in.
GUN! Team two, go! Go, go, go! Anthony Perish, you're under arrest for the conspiracy to murder Terry Falconer.
It's taken us years, and now I've got ya.
And all our ducks, they're all lined up in a row.
So you really wanna help yourself, then you make a statement.
Tell me what happened, why you did it.
You think I should? You reckon it would help me? And those ducks of yours Cocky.
Yep.
We need to get Decker or Andrew Perish to roll over or this prick could walk.