"Get in!" "Hurry up!" "Come on!" "Get in!" "You're number four, okay?" "That's all you gotta remember." "Right?" "Number four." "Too easy, mate." "You are number one and number two, number three and number four." "Number one is the man who handed you your gear." "Number two is seated to his right." "Number three should be seated opposite number one." "And number four is the last man in." "If you are uncertain of your number, speak now." "I'm number four." "Right?" "Yeah, four." "Fuckin' four!" "Yeah." "Right." "Four." "The target is a commercial premises." "You will enter through a rear fire escape door from an alleyway behind the building." "Let's go!" "Come on!" "is this it?" "This is it." "Are you sure, mate?" "I don't think this is it." "This is it!" "Let's go!" "I don't think this is it..." "Righ to everyone right down!" "This is a stick-up!" "Get your faces down on the fuckin' floor!" "Get down!" "Get down or I'll blow your fuckin' head off!" "So get down!" "Don't move!" "Get down on the fuckin' floor!" "What's goin' on, mate?" "This ain't the rightjoint!" "Change of plan, Johnny Boy." "Righto, Jack." "Let's see your safe." "GET DOWN !" "Come on!" "Jesus!" "What happened?" "There was a gun in the safe and the bastard topped him." "Shit!" "is he all right?" "He's gone, mate." "He's wasted." "Ah, fuckin' Johnny Spitieri!" "He was fuckin' dead meat anyway." "Wattsy!" "You're on." "And I'm sick of it!" "D'you understand me?" "I'm sick to shit of it and I'm not copping' it any more!" "Youse are gonna let me out." "Right?" "Mr Obst, you cant ..." "No!" "No!" "No!" "No!" "No "Mr Obst"!" "Youse'll let me out." "Okay?" "Now don't start that!" "Don't start that whispering'!" "Right?" "Youse have got nothin' to talk about." "Right?" "Youse are gonna let me out." "Right now." "Right here." "Today." "That's it." "Finished." "End of story." "Done." "Over with." "Say goodbye." "I must say your history gives me cause for concern." "I see that in this latest robbery, you actually locked three of the bank staff in the strong room." "Yeah, I wouldn't do that again." "Well I should hope not." "No, I wouldn't." "Dead set." "Since I done me Violent Offenders Program and that, I know that you just can't do that shit no more." "And what would you say that you'd learnt, Mr Morrison?" "Well, you just gotta be more professional about everything you do these days, haven't ya?" "Things like getting to the crime scene early." "Bein' polite and courteous with your victims." "I mean, if you can't be professional about what you're doing, then you dead set shouldn't be doing armed robberies!" "Who's running our Violent Offenders Course these days?" "I have absolutely no idea." "Thank you, Mr Morrison." "Oh, it's all right for the young blokes comin' through, see?" "It's okay for them." "They got no worries." "You know, this joint's like a bloody revolving' door." "The minute they arrive, youse just roll out the red carpet for 'em." "They get handed this." "They get handed that." "Bloody wrong, don't ya think?" "Something wrong with the whole system." "Yeah, no sooner they get in here, mate, they're out again." "Gotta be taught, don't you think, Your Majesty?" "If you can't do the time, you don't do the crime." "You've been in prison since you were nineteen." "You've served eight years of a twelve-year term for manslaughter." "This is your third application for parole?" "That's right." "You struck a 55-year-old night watchman who disturbed you and others during a break-and-enter of a warehouse in South Brisbane and he died as a result." "I never hit the bloke." "Yes, I know." "You're quite innocent, like every other inmate in this prison." "But that doesn't alter the fact that you've confessed the crime to the police." "I never made that confession, ma'am." "The coppers bricked me on it." "And you continue to assert that your arresting officer," "Detective Senior Sergeant Deviers, fabricated the case against you?" "I came through that window with the others, but I never hit that old bloke." "Arnie Deviers just wrote me up for it." "It was a dead set verbal." "Well, you see, that's another problem, isn't it?" "You say that someone else committed the crime and yet you won't say who." "That's just how I was brought up, ma'am." "I don't tell tales." "Hey!" "Hey, Barry!" "Hey, brother." "Hey, better luck next time, man." "Better days ahead," "Mate. I'm gettin' out, man." "You serious?" "Yeah, yeah." "Believe that." "Parole's effective immediately." "Mate, that's shit hot, mate Yeah." "So what're you gonna do?" "Oh mate, I'm gonna get square and I'm gonna stay fuckin' square." "Yeah." "You do it, mate." "Oh man, I'm outta here man." "I've spent too much fuckin' time in here already, mate." "I'm fuckin' square, I'm tellin' ya." "I'm gone." "Dead set." "I'm goin' to Italy to live." "What?" "Yeah. I told ya, remember?" "I traced me cousin there." "It's no bullshit, eh." "Me uncle left us this house in his will." "It's like ten thousand years old or somethin'." "Yeah but, Spit mate, like, do you think that they're just gonna let you piss off overseas when you're on parole?" "Oh mate, fuck 'em!" "Yeah, mate." "Oh yeah." "FUCK 'EM, mate!" "You don't come back here." "You understand?" "You get square." "Hey..." "So what's this walkin' shit?" "All part of this diet that you're on, is it?" "Too right, son." "It's your Slim Shapers Programme." "Regular exercise in conjunction with your strictly controlled dietary regime." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "Go for a walk every day." "Weigh-in once a week." "What, in front of all them sheilas?" "Mate, I'm a New Age bloke." "All right?" "Yeah." "Well, you've dropped a bit." "I'm down four kilos!" "Shit." "That's all right!" "Shit-hot, mate." "I'm a bloody star performer!" "Piss off, birds!" "I don't get it, Crusher  the joint's heavin' with bloody tourists." "Every dump in town is doing big business." "We can't even put in enough punters to start a decent argument!" "Oh." "Hello, darlin'." "Hi, Dabba." "I'm tellin' ya, boss." "Cheryl's got too much gear on, eh." "With tits like them she should be topless." "Don't be so fucking vulgar." "What about if we put a couple o' tables in out the back?" "What?" "A couple o' tables." "Mate, are you listenin' to me?" "I've come up here to get away from all that shit." "Okay?" "I'm getting square." "I got meself a new missus who's straight up and down, and two beautiful baby daughters who are going to come up the right way." "Okay?" "Square heads." "Do you understand?" "That's it." "End of story, son." "Boomf." "And square heads don't run no illegal game out the back o' theirjoint, Craig." "You with me?" "What about a pool table?" "Pool tables always get the punters in." "All right you blokes." "Play School's over." "Hardware up!" "Everyone out!" "No." "Not you, Barry." "You stay put." "You've got a visit." "I think you know Detective Senior Sergeant Deviers." "G'day Barry, old mate." "I heard you got yourself a cushy job in the kitchens." "Well done, son." "Mostly 'eat in' crowd, is it?" "What the fuck do you want?" "Just like your old mum used to make, eh?" "I heard she'd been a bit crook lately." "She's on the mend." "'On the mend'?" "Fuck!" "is that what you call it?" "Haven't you heard?" "The old bat carked it last night." "She's dead, mate." "That's what we're here for  to break the good news to her little baby boy." "I volunteered specially for the job." "Knew you'd wanna hear it from an old mate." "You know, Barry .." "This soup's not bad." "It's not bad at all." "Just needs um   a little bit of the Colonel's secret recipe." "Keep at it, son." "Keep at it." "I've been very bloody patient with you people, comin' here year after year." "But a bloke's only got so much patience." "Right?" "Well, I've had a gut-full!" "Youse'll let me out, you ungrateful people!" "And if I cop any more of your bullshit ... I'm dead set gonna do me 'nana!" "Right?" "!" "Get your fuckin' hand off me!" "The sole remaining family member." "Thank you, Miss Flynn." "Mr Wirth, the Board is saddened to hear of the recent death of your mother." "I understand it wasn't entirely unexpected?" "No, ma'am." "She'd been crook for a while." "In any event, her death means that your younger brother, Joey, is left without any parental support." "Your current application urges this Board to approve your release on parole so that you can provide emotional and other support for your brother." "Do you feel that you're capable of providing it?" "Good luck, Barry." "How you doin', Baz?" "Hey, little brother." "Good to see ya, mate." "Let's get outta here, yeah?" "Yeah, no worries." "Travelling a bit flash, mate." "Whose wheels?" "G'day Barry." "Chicka." "Climb in, son." "I think I'll take the bus." "You stood staunch, Barry." "I don't forget things like that." "But we got things humming' out here now and there's a place in it for you   if you want it." "All I want is to keep my head down and get square." "Well..." "Blokes like you and me, we don't get square." "We're too smart for that." "Yeah, I hear you're so smart you've even got the coppers on side now." "Yeah?" "Makes it easier to do business that way." "I'd rather have 'em inside the tent pissing' out than outside pissing' in." "You've got a short memory, Chicka." "Well I don't get paid to remember things, Barry." "Or people either." "Eh?" "Let's fuck off." "Look at these kids." "Are these beautiful fuckin' kids or what, eh?" "Livin' dolls, mate." "Livin' fucking' dolls" "Now, I'll just have a quick bite of lunch with the girls." "Okay, sweetie?" "No worries, pussycat." "The kids'll be fine with me and Crusher." "See ya!" "Hey listen!" "Why aren't your fancy mates havin' lunch here, anyway?" "Get real, darl!" "If we had a table they could've come back for a game of pool." "Sheilas don't play pool, do they?" "Yeah." "Hey, Cheryl?" "Sheilas don't play pool, do they?" "Nah, not really." "See?" "Sheilas don't fuckin' play pool, you imbecile!" "Boo!" "He's an imbecile, isn't he?" "He's a little fuckin' imbecile." "Boo!" "Yeah, mate." "Mate, the..." "Mate..." "Mate!" "No, mate, no." "No-no-no, mate, mate, mate mate." "Mate ..." "Oh mate ...!" "No, mate. lt's all worked out on what they call 'cal points' see?" "Cow?" "Yeah." "Oh, cal." "C. A. Cal points." "It's a scientifically calculated measurement of your daily fat intake." "Yeah?" "Yeah well it's very simple." "Let me give you an example All right." "Stubbie o' Light." "Only three cal points, mate." "Yeah, so what's a 'heavy'?" "I Mate, it's five an' 'alf." "Jeez, for two an' 'alf extra you'd almost take the punt, wouldn't ya?" "No, mate." "No, no, no." "See, the thing is, this is where blokes like you get it wrong, you see?" "You're always tryin' to cut corners." "Cheat the system." "Now the thing is, right, you throw down a Lightie... take the edge off the thirst, sort of thing." "So you're in for three points." "Then you hop into a couple of those white wines, put a bit of a glow on ya." "Oh yeah." "White wine, eh?" "Yeah." "Or red." "Red?" "Yeah, red or white." "Makes no difference, mate." "Yeah, so what are they worth?" "Mate ... three points." "Only three bloody points, son!" "You see what I mean?" "Throw a coldie back, then whack a couple of those white wines into me." "Next thing I'm 'alf on me way and all done and out and finished for under ten points." "Jeez, that's a top diet, Darren." "Mate?" "Mate!" "Hello, darling." "Darren!" "Con!" "How are ya, mate?" "Very well, Darren." "Very well." "Nice to see you." "Crusher." "How you doin', my friend?" "Good?" "Jesus!" "Darren!" "You've dropped a bit of weight, haven't ya?" "She's got me onto Slim Shapers." "I'm down four kilos, mate." "I'm a bloody star performer!" "So what do you reckon?" "Well, we've each got our own rooms now, eh." "So..." "Like, maybe if you want to move into Mum's room or...?" "Or I can, or ..." "It's whatever you want." "That was 'orrible." "Mate." "This ... this is one sensational deal!" "They will pay us one point five mill." "for the site as soon as the council approves it for high-rise development." "Now you, you're only paying six hundred to buy it." "So mate, there's a nine hundred grand pick-up in it for ya." "All you've gotta do is settle the purchase." "And then you turn it straight back around, whack nine hundred in your kick - less my ten percent, of course." "What about The Texas Rose?" "Mate, did I say sensational deal or did I say sensational deal?" "The development plan is for a residential tower." "All right?" "With, you know, ground floor retail shops and restaurants - one of which comes back to us twelve months rent-free for The Texas Rose." "Now mate, you tell me if that's not a sensational deal." "Con. That is a sensational deal, mate." "Fuckin' sensational!" "Are you sure they'll get approval?" "Darren!" "Trust me, mate. lt's sweet." "But, you know, it is gonna take a few weeks." "Are you right to settle in the meantime?" "How much do I need?" "Well, the bank will give you four hundred, so you'll need to kick in about two to top her up." "Any problems?" "I don't think so." "I still keep a bit o' dough with Warren Halliwell - my accountant here in Surfer's Paradise." "He moves it around a bit for me." "Yes, Mr Halliwell?" "Melanie, I think we might break for lunch again." "What do you think?" "Sounds great, Mr Halliwell." "He's got one of them dodgy 'first mortgage' schemes set up." "Puts it out on a short-term drip-feed to all them shonky builders doin' high-density rent guarantee developments in the back lots." "Oh yeah, Warren's a real operator." "He's slipperier than ajar of eels." "When it comes to juggling' figures, he can make a bucket that stinks smell like a bunch o' roses." "He's slicker'n goose shit, mate." "Warren knows all the moves" "Oh great!" "Just great!" "Hi there." "You've called Warren Halliwell." "I'm out at present, but if you leave a message I'll get right back to you." "See you!" "Great, Warren!" "While you're out hitting the piss somewhere I'm here having a crisis." "The Beemer won't be ready 'til 4.00 o'clock and I'm due at tennis in half an hour!" "Call me!" "Warren!" "You bastard!" "Oh Graham, it's Niall Toole here from the Criminal Investigation Commission." "Good." "Listen, I need to organise a search warrant." "Well it's a little bit sensitive, which is why I'd prefer to get a criminal code on it if possible." "Do you have any magistrates available around three this afternoon?" "Oh wonderful." "I'll get a complaint sworn up immediately." "Yes, it's for the offices of the Surfers Paradise accountant, Warren C. Halliwell." "Oh excellent, Darren!" "It's another two kilos!" "Yeah?" "What?" "What?" "Oh you're fuckin' kidding!" "We won't sign it." "We're not signing anything." "Darren!" "Don't sign it!" "We're not signing a thing, mate." "You don't need to sign it." "It's a search warrant." "Yeah well exactly!" "So we won't be signing anything, eh?" "So what's the fuckin' charge?" "Ah... the charge..." "What's the charge?" "No charge at this stage." "No charge at this stage, Darren." "What?" "There's no fucking charge?" "They're turning a bloke's place upside down and there's not even a fuckin' charge?" "They can't do that." "Can they do that?" "Can you do that?" "As I'm sure you are aware we have very extensive powers of search under the Act." "Search?" "Search for fucking what?" "Darren!" "Please!" "Search for...?" "We believe Mr Barrington may be in possession of money, which constitutes 'tainted property' under the Confiscation of Profits Act." "Thank you..." "Mate, I'm fuckin' square All right?" "C'mon, I'm tellin' ya." "Hey Darren?" "Have you seen what these dick-heads are doing?" "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" "That's 'A' grade turf you're poking holes in there, pal!" "What are they fuckin' doing?" "Yeah, what are they fuckin' doing?" "I mean, excuse me!" "But you know, what are they ...?" "They're probing for buried receptacles." "As you know we have power to interfere with private property under the Act." "Er..." "Con... er..." "Con..." "Listen, buddy... I'm square these days." "Ask anyone you like." "I'm out of all that shit." "Dead set." "One hundred percent." "Declare everything." "Me taxes, everything." "Are you with me?" "We're not suggesting you don't." "But we believe that you may be using funds illegally obtained through the bank scams back in '87." "Mate. I've done me time for that blue - fair and square." "We're interested in what happened to the proceeds." "I've spent 'em." "What's it to you?" "Darren?" "Turn it up, sport!" "What d'you think you're bloody doin'?" "That's our bloody lawn, ya drop-kicks!" "If your client invested tainted funds in his business then he may be guilty of money laundering under the Act." "As you know that carries ten years." "What?" "Fuckin' ten years, mate!" "You're kidding, aren't ya?" "!" "We're primarily interested in revenue at this stage." "If your client is willing to voluntarily declare the funds and consent to forfeiture then I don't expect we'd be prosecuting on money laundering charges." "What?" "So I just hand the dough back to you blokes, eh?" "It's forfeited to the Crown." "Oh right." "And I suppose they hand it back to the banks, do they?" "No." "No." "No, no." "Bloody right they don't!" "Jeez, yous are dead set fuckin' red hot, you are, eh?" "You can't even do your own fuckin' thieving' for yourselves!" "We gotta do it for ya!" "You, dead set!" "You're bigger fucking crooks than I am, mate!" "As I said, we're revenue driven." "What have we here?" "Er..." "Con?" "... seventy, eighty, eighty-five." "Sixty-one thousand, six hundred and eighty-five dollars." "Now why would you have that kind of money buried in your back yard?" "I don't trust banks." "People keep robbing' 'em!" "I nearly didn't recognise you the other day." "Yeah, well. lt's been a long time." "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about your mum." "Thanks." "Well, Joey's glad you're back." "Are you best mates now?" "I'm his probation officer." "Community Corrections Three years in April." "Small town." "He's a good kid." "I just want things to go right for him." "I hope you're up for it." "Well he's me brother, isn't he?" "A lot of people have stuck their necks out for you, Barry." "I never asked them to." "Well, just don't fuck it up for Joey." "Okay?" "So how did you go with your weigh-in, anyway?" "Oh yeah, no worries, mate." "I wore the paper-thin strides, no belt." "Sweet as you like." "You gotta come off a good base, see." "Yeah?" "Mad if you don't, mate." "First weigh-in, see, you're building a bit of give and take in there." "I goes in with a couple of kilos of lead in me boots - gives it that little bit of breathing space, sort of thing." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "Mate, they'd make your life a misery otherwise." "This way, you can have a bit of a blow out, you don't have to give yourself up, sort of thing." "No point in holding up your hands." "Mate, why would ya?" "Oh, here he is." "No charges." "But they're looking for a forfeiture order." "What's that?" "Basically it means the ClC gets the dough." "What?" "The whole sixty grand?" "Plus the two hundred grand you gave Halliwell." "Oh, that dirty fuckin' bean-counter!" "He's dogged me!" "No, no, no, no. I don't think so, Darren." "Apparently Halliwell's gone into deep snooker." "The ClC got all his bloody files, eh." "Who is this ClC anyway?" "What are they?" "The fuckin' cops or what?" "Nah, they ain't the cops." "They ain't cops?" "!" "Well, fuck 'em then!" "They can't do nothin' to us if they ain't even cops!" "Darren, they're worse than the cops, mate." "They're like, they're like super-cops." "Super-cops?" "Yeah." "With all these fancy new coercive powers." "Ah!" "Jesus!" "Fuck a duck!" "I'm tryin' to run a straight up and down show here, an' l'm bein' lumbered with super-cops with fuckin' coercive powers!" "What's goin' on here, Con?" "No, look, it seems they're lookin' at official corruption." "I mean they reckon Alderman Burrows got a drink out of the re-zoning of the Texas Rose." "And they're tryin' to link the money you gave to Halliwell back to the bank scam." "So fuckin' what?" "That's my dough." "I pinched it." "Yeah, well, mate, they want it." "And apparently, if they can trace it back, they get it." "Well, good luck to 'em, mate!" "They got no chance." "That Halliwell's the shiftiest bastard in the game." "They can't do nothin' with the bloody files." "Yeah, but they've, like, subpoenaed every fuckin' person in the world for questioning, eh." "Oh well, tell 'em to get fucked, Con!" "We don't have to answer their bloody questions." "I'm really sorry, Darren, but I'm afraid you do, mate." "It's part of their coercive powers." "Well, what about your right to silence?" "That's unassailable." "Yeah, ya can't force a bloke to tell tales." "That's against the constitution." "That's fuckin' un-Australian." "What about a deal, Con?" "Can we do 'em a deal?" "Go to seventy-thirty." "Bottom line, split it down the guts." "I don't think they work that way, Darren." "Well, fuck 'em!" "Fuck 'em!" "Tell 'em to go their hardest." "Good luck to 'em." "Anyway, that money's legit." "Dead set, one hundred percent on the up and up." "Absolutely." "And they'll never prove otherwise." "Not unless someone puts the finger on Johnny Spit." "Who's Johnny Spit" "He's the bloke I got to deliver the luka to Halliwell." "They'll never find Johnny Spit." "No way!" "The bloke's ajunkie." "They got no hope." "We're from the Criminal Investigations Commission." "We understand that John Spitieri rents a room here?" "Yeah, except he don't pay his rent." "He's in Room six." "Top of the stairs." "Oh fuck!" "I'll be home for dinner, mate." "Hang on a tick. I'll give you a lift." "In a Ford?" "You are kidding', aren't ya?" "I'd rather walk." "What're you talking about?" "Ford's King!" "Holden is!" "Ford, mate!" "Holden!" "Ford!" "Holden!" "Fuckin' Ford!" "Fuckin' Ford ..." "Yeah, so I've only had my ticket about three years, but I've been the head cook since then." "Well you shouldn't have to do anything too fancy around here." "Where have you worked?" "Just at SDL." "SDL?" "Where's that?" "Sir David Longlands." "Sir David Longlands?" "That's not a restaurant, is it?" "No, it's a prison." "Oh right." "Did you work for the Prisons' Department?" "I was an inmate." "How long were you in there for?" "About eight." "Eight months?" "Eight years." "Eight years." "Gosh!" "What were you in for?" "I was done for killin' a bloke." "I never did it." "Oh right." "You're a hard man to track down, Joey Wirth." "It's good for my image." "Man of mystery." "You look like you've won the lottery." "Yeah, I ... wacked me pocket money on a favourite at Eagle farm." "It's come good." "Oh yeah?" "How are things at home?" "Good." "He settling in all right?" "Yeah, no worries." "What's he doing with himself?" "Do you want me to get him to give you a call?" "No, he's cool." "He's good." "So where's your boss?" "Ah..." "Jeez, I haven't seen him." "Has he got a name?" "Oh he's just this old dude that I bumped into." "He gave me a twenty to hose down his boat." "Okay I'm gonna need a name, aren't I?" "Yeah." "Yeah." "No worries." "Okay." "Yeah, Davo. lt's Annie Flynn." "Can you run a name search on a boat for me?" "It's called the 'Far Canal'." "No, no. I'll hold." "Yeah." "Thank you. 'Bye." "So you've been away for a few years, mate?" "Yeah." "Oil rigs, eh?" "Yeah, North Sea." "What?" "D'you getjack of it?" "It's too bloody cold, mate." "You won't get too bloody cold around here, mate." "That's it." "That's it." "Come on!" "Kick it up!" "That's the way ... good." "Clear off!" "All of youse!" "No, not you, Jackie Chan." "Yeah, that's right." "Talking to you, sweet'eart." "Little Miss Community Corrections." "Elvis, piss off!" "I want to know what your interest is in Chicka Martin." "What business is that of yours?" "Everything in this town's my business, darlin'." "You understand?" "Now I don't know what that... that grub Barry Wirth's been telling you about Chicka Martin." "But what Chicka Martin does has got nothing to do with Community Corrections and it's got nothing to do with you." "So if you don't want trouble with me, you keep your spunky little bum out of it." "All right?" "It's Deviers." "Right?" "That's Detective Senior Sergeant Deviers to you, rose-petal." "Are you always this charming?" "Only on the first date, darlin'  only on the first date." "What about your salmon?" "Oh mate, sweet as a nut." "Yeah?" "Absolutely." "No, your salmon is shit-hot gear, mate." "We're talking here maybe point one, point two of a point." "Piece of crispy bread, throw in an extra maybe point two of a point." "It's nothing." "Yeah?" "Interesting..." "G'day Dabba." "You know Big Mick?" "Yeah, 'course I do." "G'day Mick." "How are you, son?" "Good, Darren." "Yeah, mate, I'm real good." "You're lookin' really good." "Jeez, I haven't seen you in years." "No, not since the old Pink Pussy Cat days, eh?" "That's right, yeah." "Jeez, you've dropped a lot of weight since then, Darren." "You're lookin' really good." "Isn't he lookin' fabulous, Chicka?" "Huh?" "Yeah. I'm 'barred up' at the sight of him." "Yeah well, he's dropped a heap, hasn't he?" "Look at him!" "Yeah, yeah." "He looks like a fuckin' Biafran." "Okay?" "Listen, Dabba, I just come over to discuss a little business proposition with you." "Oh yeah?" "What's Big Mick doing here then?" "You need to learn a few manners, don't you, Chicka?" "If you wanna talk business with me, fine." "But don't come packing muscle." "No offence meant to you, of course, Mick." "Oh no, Darren." "There's no offence taken, mate." "No, none at all." "Mick..." "Why don't you go and get yourself a cold beer at the bar?" "Let's take the weight off, big fella." "Sit down." "When are you going to get a bit of fucking form about you, Chicka?" "Oh, keep your shirt on, Dabba!" "I only came over to see you as an old friend  and to offer you an opportunity for a little earn." "Oh yeah?" "Taken up charity work, have you?" "Well, as you know, charity begins in the home." "And right now, I got myself a little problem." "See, lately, I been parking' most of my hard earned 'Cyril Ashe' with our good friend, Warren Halliwell." "But now, because Warren has great difficulty in keepin'g his dick in his dacks, he's in considerable shit with the ClC." "So, in the interim, I've been parking a shit-load with Black Jack Cullan." "He's showing it in the books of his cash businesses and turning it into paper for me for a of course healthy commission." "But you and me both know that there's a limit to the amount of cash that even a shocking' punter like Black Jack Cullan can drop on the horses." "And that's where you come into it." "Oh yeah?" "How do you figure that, then?" "Well, I hear tell from the dogs that are barking in the street, that in this particular establishment, you've gone and got yourself a complete dud." "So I figure you gotta be hurtin' pretty bad." "Well." "I am of course touched by the level of your deep concern, Chicka." "Well, as you know, that's the kind of bloke I am." "Anyway, I figure there's a bit of mutual back scratching to be done here." "So I'm proposing' that you and me become partners in this here white elephant of yours." "Now I know you can't stop people paying cash in a business like this." "So you pay your tax ... and then you and me split the rest on a basis that is fair and reasonable and equitable to both parties." "Say, eighty to me -twenty to you?" "Yeah?" "Negotiable I don't think so, Chicka." "But Dabba." "Dabba, we're talking concepts here." "Don't go gettin' too hung up on the figures." "Like I say, it's negotiable." "No, it aint." "See, to tell you the truth, I don't like the business you're in, Chicka." "And I'm not all that particularly fond of you, either." "In fact, I wouldn't have you as a partner if you was served up on a silver platter surrounded by watercress." "So if you want someone to wash your filthy luka for you, I suggest you take it to the Laundromat." "is that right?" "Yeah." "Well, I, of course, appreciate your being so frank and forthright with me, Dabba." "Mick!" "Maybe you need to learn a few manners yourself, Dabba." "Well, let me know if you find a good teacher." "Empty the till, mate!" "Come on now!" "Do it, mate!" "What?" "Do it!" "You empty the till now!" "You gotta be kiddin'." "No mate, I'm serious." "Empty the fuckin' till!" "That's a screwdriver, ya dick-head." "What're you gonna do?" "Put up some shelving'?" "I hate guns, mate." "They're dangerous fuckin' things." "Piss off or I'm gonna get over there and I'm gonna give you a good flogging'." "is that Wattsy?" "Johnny?" "Hey, Wattsy!" "Mate!" "Johnny, you prick!" "What are you doin' to me?" "Oh fuck!" "That thing's so fuckin' hot!" "Johnny, what are you doing sticking' up a servo?" "Hey, I know mate, I know." "Hey, I'm a better crook than that." "But mate... I'm back on the shit again, mate." "I'm hangin' out somethin' fierce." "You're not, are you, mate?" "I am, man." "Dead set. I'm fucked, mate." "I gotta score, big time." "Don't shoot!" "Now go mate, go back, get back mate!" "Go!" "Go back!" "Come on, empty the till, mate!" "Come on!" "Get back!" "Or I'll give it to you!" "Yeah." "Oh right." "Yeah ..." "Wait!" "Thank you." "Yeah." "Yeah ..." "Thank you." "Annie!" "Annie!" "Where do you think you're going?" "She's from Community Corrections, Sarge." "I know where she's from." "This is a police station, not a bloody social club." "You sit your arse down and wait like everybody else, sweet'eart." "You too, ferret." "I'll bring your boyfriend out when we're finished with him." "Thank you, Constable." "Here he is!" "Me old mate, Barry Wirth." "Wattsy Wirth?" "Not fuckin' much, if you ask me." "I hear you been up to your old tricks again, Barry." "I'm not talking to you, Deviers." "I want to see a solicitor." "You don't need a solicitor." "The Boy Scouts here are gonna let you go." "Reckon they don't have enough to pinch you on." "You see?" "Not like the old days, eh?" "These young blokes here haven't got the balls to drop a verbal   even on a little grub like you, Barry." "But I do, Barry." "And don't forget it." "I stitch up a little shit like you in a heartbeat!" "I know you were in on that servo job." "And when the boy scouts here pinch your little mate, he'll tell me everything I need to know." "And then you're going back inside where you belong." "Only this time, you're never gettin'out!" "Look, I don't give a shit what you do with your life, Barry, but if you breach your parole, I can't guarantee anything for Joey." "I'm lookin' after him." "No you're doing a greatjob." "Oh, thanks very much." "He's a smart kid, but you gotta look after him." "Look!" "Fuck only knows why, Barry, but he thinks that you're someone worth looking up to." "Well, he's not that smart then, is he?" "Come on." "Wake up to yourself, Barry." "We're doin' all right, Annie." "Look, I haven't told the department about Joey working for Chicka Martin yet, but I'm beginning to think that I should." "You done?" "Stick up, pal. all your dole." "Hey mate, what are you doin' looking for ajob?" "I heard you was working in a servo." "Oh really?" "Where'd you hear that?" "Come on ..." "So Chicka Martin's gonna be my ticket outta here, man." "Chicka's nothing but trouble, Spit." "No, no, no." "Hey, mate." "Mate, listen to this." "About six weeks ago, right, this wood-duck rolls into town." "Drives a Porsche, mate." "Absolutely rolling' in it." "And he knows no one." "Right?" "Absolutely fuckin' no one." "Mate, he starts hassling me about getting' gear for him." "He's payin' like three times over the odds for it." "So, mate... I done this shit-hot deal with Chicka." "Right?" "He's givin' me a kilo of 'H' for twenty grand on credit." "The wood-duck's gonna pay me thirty grand for it." "Mate, that's ten grand goin' straight into my skyrocket." "Mate, you gotta get off that shit." "Nah, this time I'm gonna do it, eh." "This one's gettin' me out for good." "Mate, what are you talkin' about?" "This, mate." "This." "Look..." "Look." "The cure, mate." "Look at her." "She was a ragin' junkie." "She was pumpin' like a thousand bucks up her arm a day." "But her oldies, here, they sent her off to Israel for this special treatment." "They like put you in a coma or somethin'." "And when you wake up you're straight, mate." "No cold turkey." "Nothin'." "No, I checked it out, mate." "As soon as I done the deal, mate, I'm on the plane   courtesy of Chicka." "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, Spit." "No one wants to hire an ex-con." "Mate, any bloke who can make a fancy sanger like this should be in big demand." "Shut up." "Hey, I could get you kitchen work." "I know this Pommie bloke He owes me a couple." "I don't want nothin' dodgy, Spit." "No, no, mate." "This bloke's square ... sorta." "Anyway, eh." "He's got his own restaurant." "Yeah?" "Whereabouts?" "Surfer's Paradise, mate." "Surfer's Paradise?" "Yeah." "Surfers bloody Paradise." "Jesus, Crusher!" "What's this meant to be?" "You said 'well done'." "Well done?" "Blokes don't get this burnt in the electric chair!" "G'day." "G'day, pal" "Are you Spit's mate?" "Yeah. I'm Barry Wirth." "Can you cook steaks, Barry?" "Yeah, 'course I can." "Pepper steak." "Well done." "'Well done' as in still identifiable without havin' to check its dental records." "All right." "Crusher will show you around." "Come on..." "Barry ..." "So, have you seen Johnny Spit around lately?" "No." "No well l've asked around." "I'm told you're a good boy." "You keep your nose clean and you got ajob around here." "All right?" "No drugs, no hardware." "You don't dud me and I won't dud you." "You fuck up, and I'll wipe you like a dirty bum." "Sweet." "If I catch you thieving', I'll chop your nuts off and watch you grate 'em over a Salad Nicoise." "All right?" "That's more than fair." "Come on." "Joey." "Wake up!" "Wake up!" "Get up!" "Get up off the floor!" "Come on!" "What are you doin' to me, eh?" "What are you doin'?" "Get outta here!" "Get up!" "Hey!" "What's happenin', mate?" "What's happenin', mate, is that you're fuckin' outta here!" "That's what's happenin'!" "Get outta here!" "Where'd you get the money to buy the smoke?" "You been thieving'?" "No." "No." "You've been working for Chicka, haven't you?" "You stupid shit!" "Jesus, Barry, chill out, will ya!" "It's only a bag of smoke." "You're not my bloody probation officer ..." "That little bag of smoke is enough put me back inside." "And I ain't fuckin' goin' back." "All right?" "Not for you, not for Chicka, not for fuckin' anyone!" "You understand me?" "Jesus, Barry." "Handle it, will ya?" "Fuckin' handle it!" "So you're worried about the little bastard, are ya?" "Yeah. I promised my mum I'd never let him end up in boob." "Your mum, eh?" "Yeah, that's the thing about mothers, isn't it?" "You go inside and they do every day of it with ya." "It's harder on them than it is on us." "Dead set." "Yeah." "Yeah, my mum done it real tough for me." "This brother of yours." "Does he know how to pull beers?" "Who's he gonna pull beers for?" "We got no punters." "Well never mind about that." "We're on the verge of big things, here." "Bring the kid in." "We'll teach him how to pull beers." "You got any more of this custard?" "Doesn't that stuff fuck up your fancy diet?" "As long as a certain party don't dog me to my missus, it don't." "No." "Thanks, Dabba." "Forget it." "Listen, Dabba." "I know you're chasin' Johnny Spit, so ... if I see him I'll have a word with him." "Yeah?" "That'd be good." "Yeah." "Shit-hot, mate." "Johnny!" "Quick!" "Get in!" "What's going on?" "Just drive, mate!" "What the fuck's goin' on?" "Just get outta here, mate!" "Oh shit!" "John Francis Spitieri." "You're officially served." "Oh, what is this shit, man?" "What have I done?" "Oh, Criminal fuckin' lntelligence Commission?" "Oh, why?" "Oh what are youse hassling' me for, mate?" "I'm square!" "I'm fuckin' square!" "Mate, I don't know what I'm gonna do." "I'm not goin' dogging' anyone." "That's for sure" "Dabba's always been square with me." "I'm not puttin' You can tell him back." "Oh shit!" "Oh fuck." "Community Corrections i'm outta here, man..." "You don't seem too popular." "It's nothin' for you to worry about." "Wasn't that John Spitieri?" "I don't know his name." "He just bummed a lift off me." "Okay." "Well, just so you know, next time you see him hitching, he's a convicted criminal, so giving him a lift would be a breach of your parole." "I'll ask him for lD next time." "I see you got the Falcon going again." "Yeah, just cleaned her up a bit." "She purrs like a kitten." "Only woman a man can rely on, huh?" "Yep." "Look..." "Annie, when I spent my first night in slot I was just a young kid pissing my pants." "It was John Spitieri that put his hand on my shoulder." "He taught me up from down." "And that counts for something, doesn't it?" "Right now, Johnny needs a friend." "Well friends are important." "Yeah." "And friends that stick." "'Cos when it comes down to it, they're all you've got." "What?" "Like Chicka Martin?" "No." "Chicka's no one." "He's ancient history." "So why is Joey working for him?" "He's not." "Not any more." "See ya." "See ya." "G'day, mate." "The gear's on the floor in front of you." "It's the same as what you've been getting." "It'll cost you twenty large, payable on Friday." "Sweet, mate." "'Hello?" "'" "Hey!" "Yeah, it's me." "Hello?" "Hey." "Frank, mate. lt's me." "Who is it?" "It's me!" "Who?" "It's me!" "It's fuckin' me!" "Oh right!" "Right!" "Hey, mate. I got that stuff for ya." "What?" "I got that stuff for ya, you know, the 'whats-it' you know." "The other thing?" "Oh right." "The whats-it." "You got it did ya?" "Yeah, mate. I told ya l would, eh." "Unreal, excellent." "Excellent." "Hey, hang on, is that the dark chocolate or is that the milk chocolate?" "Come again?" "is this the brown beetles, or is this the vanilla ice cream?" "Ice cream?" "Oh yeah ice cream." "Yeah, mate." "Yeah mate i got you the vanilla ice cream." "Hey mate, nice and creamy, too." "Awesome." "Mate, were you able to get me a double Scoop?" "Yeah mate, I got you a large scoop." "Cool." "How much is the large scoop?" "A large scoop of icecream, mate?" "Thirty thousand." "Sweet!" "Okay, mate." "Hey!" "Get in!" "Hey mate!" "Hey bro." "How are ya?" "I'm good, mate." "You got the gear?" "Right here, mate." "Let's crack it open, man." "Oh not here, mate." "Just go up the road a bit, eh." "You got me a kilo?" "Just like I said I would." "And it's heroin." "Right?" "It's the best money could buy, mate." "Hey, you got the dough with ya?" "And the deal is a kilo of heroin for thirty thousand dollars." "Right?" "Police, Johnny." "Mind stepping out of the car, please?" "Oh shit!" "I don't need ajob. I got ajob." "What?" "Cleaning up after Chicka Martin?" "Chicka looks after me all right." "Chicka looks after bloody Chicka, mate." "Listen, Joey... I jumped through that window all those years ago with Chicka Martin because he was Mum's boyfriend." "As far as I was concerned, he was the duck's nuts." "So when Arnie Deviers, he started leaning' on us, I wore it." "I said nothin' ..." "and Chicka said nothin'." "And next thing I know, I'm being banged up for twelve years and Mum's doing three for accessory after the fact ... and you, baby brother, you're being raised by people we don't even fuckin' know!" "Still Chicka said nothin'." "He starts doing business with the wallopers who put me inside and things couldn't be sweeter." "Well fuck him!" "I thought he was going to look after me, too, mate." "Well, I didn't know none of that." "Yeah well ...you didn't need to." "Well I didn't much like cleaning' boats anyway." "So what is this gig?" "John Spitieri?" "Who's askin'?" "We're from the Criminal Investigation Commission." "We'd like to have a short word with you." "Oh what?" "Turn it up!" "Youse have only just let me go." "We're not the police." "We think we might be able to help you." "Mate, I don't know what youse are talkin' about." "Look, John." "You're in a bit of trouble here." "You've been charged with trafficking." "You wouldn't even have got bail if we hadn't intervened." "You see, we know you delivered cash to Halliwell for Darren Barrington." "And when you get along to our inquiry, you're either going to tell the truth, in which case you'll face money laundering charges - or you're going to lie, in which case you'll face perjury charges as well." "The way you're going, you could end up back inside for another twenty years." "So you see, Barry  this bean counter, this Halliwell bloke, he's caused a whole lot o' shit to rain down on a whole lot o' people." "He pulled poor old Cranky Stan down with him just 'cos he knew the bastard." "Well, do you know him or not?" "Who?" "Warren bloody Mate, I don't know what you're talkin' about." "Who is this Warren Halliwell, anyhow?" "You don't know him?" "No." "Never met him?" "No." "Are you certain of that?" "Yes, I'm certain." "Absolutely certain?" "Yeah." "There can be no mistake about it in your mind?" "Mate, I dead set wouldn't know the bloke if he stood up in me fuckin' soup." "All right?" "How say you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury?" "Do you find the accused guilty or not guilty of the charge of perjury?" "Poor old Cranky drew four with no bottom, just for knowin' the bloke." "Guilty." "That'd be fuckin' right." "Halliwell was also the reason they shone a torch up Alderman Burrows' arse." "They reckon he copped a sling for the re-zoning of the Texas Rose." "I don't know where they get these ideas from!" "Burrows was way too smooth for them." "Certainly not, sir." "I would never do such a thing!" "Unfortunately, they did turn up some expense account records which did prove very embarrassing." "Who would've thought it, eh?" "Educated bloke like that." "If anybody was gonna get across the line, you'd think 'Slippery' Frame would 'ave." "Well, Mr Frame?" "It's all there in your own handwriting, isn't it?" "Records of all the payments you made to Mr Halliwell." "Well, what have you got to say, Mr Frame?" "is this it?" "is this all youse've got?" "Well, it's not a bad start, is it, Mr Frame?" "Mr Frame..." "Mr Frame, what are you doing?" "Mr Frame!" "Sir" "Mr Frame, take that exhibit out of your mouth!" "Mr Frame, do not chew that exhibit!" "I order you to stop chewing!" "Mr Frame, do not swallow that!" "Spit that out immediately!" "Frame." "The poor bastard nearly choked to death." "And he still drew three for contempt of the Commission, or some shit." "No, if anyone was gonna come 'ome, you'd have thought Slippery would've." "But they got sweet fuck all on me." "Right?" "Pardon my French, darl." "Sweet fuck all!" "Except for Johnny Spit." "Yeah, except for Spit." "I wrapped the cash up in a parcel and slipped Johnny a two-spot to deliver it to Halliwell." "Well, how can they prove they were your folders then, pet?" "They can't." "They got nothin' to tie me to that cash." "Absolutely nothin'!" "Except Johnny Spit." "Yeah, except for Spit." "Johnny's no teller." "Yeah." "Well, if he gives me up they'll pinch me for money laundering, in which case, I could cop for ten years." "Johnny wouldn't tell a dentist which tooth to pull." "Well anyway, me and Con Katsakis are gonna be in Brisbane for a couple of weeks at the hearing." "Which means you're gonna have to run the restaurant without me." "Right." "Well, I'll put the kids out on agistment with Mum, so I should be around most of the time." "But she's gonna need your help, Barry." "Okay?" "Yeah, no worries." "I reckon we're comin' up for a busy time soon." "You could be run off your feet." "But don't worry." "All the systems are in place." "You don't have to change nothing." "All right?" "Oh fuck this!" "Let's get a cab!" "Oh dari!" "Taxi!" "So here's my problem, Barry." "I am presently so hungry from this diet that I could chew the arse out of a low flying duck." "But because I have been pigging out all morning, I'm allowed no more than a further 10 grams of fat, which means that I'm restricted to rabbits' food." "Now I have got to lose this extra weight to surprise Darren when he gets home." "But if I don't have a decent feed, I am likely to deck someone." "Now." "You're a chef, Barry." "You must be able to make something edible out of this crap." "Yeah, should be able to." "I am talking about something edible, Barry." "Oh shit!" "That looks all right!" "Just say 'yes' or 'no' Okay?" "'Yes' or 'no'." "Sweet, mate." "You don't volunteer anything." "You don't make any comment." "Just 'yes' or 'no'." "Yeah no worries mate." "Because the more you say, the more they're going to try and trap you." "Right?" "Yeah." "Right, mate." "Just 'yes' or 'no'." "Thank you, gentlemen." "Your full name is John Francis Spitieri?" "So?" "I beg your pardon?" "What?" "Your name is John Francis Spitieri?" "Yeah." "Thank you." "And you reside I never said it wasn't." "Sorry?" "I never!" "Never what, Mr Spitieri?" "I never said it wasn't!" "Wasn't your name?" "Oh that's crap!" "It is my name!" "I didn't say it wasn't." "Yes, you did." "You said it then." "No." "Yes you did." "Look, I think we might be at cross-purposes." "What d'you mean cross?" "I'm not the one gettin' cross." "Yes, all right." "Yeah, youse are the ones that are arcing' up, getting around accusing everyone of everything." "No one has accused you of anything, Mr Spitieri" "Yeah?" "Well what am I doing here then, mate?" "Excuse me?" "Who's paying for my bus fare today?" "I'm sure someone will sort that out." "Yeah." "Well, who, mate?" "I'm on a pension, you know." "I haven't got no money." "Well, we'll come to that later." "Oh see, there you go!" "That's the same sort of shit them coppers were on about, trying to get me to say things that 'm s'posed to have, I know nothin' about." "Youse are full of shit, mate." "Dead set." "Well." "You're dead set trying to verbal me." "You're trying to put words into my mouth and that." "No." "No one is trying to put words into your mouth." "Yes youse are." "No we're not." "Yes, youse are." "You're doin' it now." "Doing what, Mr. Spitieri?" "Well, what do you think, mate?" "Trying to get me to say things you wanna hear." "Mate, I already told ya." "I don't know nothin' about that shit." "Yes, well... I'm sorry, Your Honour." "I didn't mean to say 'shit', it's just that this fuckin' guy's gettin' to me." "He's trying to put words into my mouth and that." "Like, I'm not smart or nothin'." "I only went to junior at school." "Well, Mr Spitieri, I shall try to take it slowly." "You don't have to talk slowly." "I can understand ya." "And I'd like to give special thanks to Marion Barrington for providing this wonderful venue for our November meeting." "And, of course, for providing the delightfully appetizing lean cuisine." "Warren Halliwell." "I'm asking you if you have ever heard of Warren Halliwell." "I told ya, mate." "I don't remember names and stuff like that." "Oh. I do remember there was an old bloke, Warren, who used to drink at the Oxford at Petersham." "But mate, I don't know what his second name was." "I was referring to the accountant on the Gold Coast." "You were referring Warren to an accountant?" "No." "Oh mate, old Warren wouldn't need an accountant, mate." "He's just an old pisshead." "I don't know where you're gettin' your info from." "Old Warren would be dead by now, wouldn't he?" "I am not talking about your friend from Petersham, Mr Spitieri, I am talking about Warren Halliwell the accountant who practices on the Gold Coast." "Oh yeah." "You know Warren Halliwell, don't you?" "Yeah." "If he used to drink at the Oxford at Petersham, I do." "Yeah, mate." "But dead set, he didn't look like an accountant to me." "No, I'm not saying he was an accountant." "Yes you did!" "You said it then!" "No." "Yes you did, mate." "You keep doin' it." "You're tryin' to confuse me." "Anyway, what did old Warren do wrong, mate?" "What are you hassling' him for?" "He's done nothin' wrong." "He's just an old pisshead." "I am not talking about your friend Warren." "Oh well, what the fuck are you talking about?" "I gotta go home." "Me bus goes at 4:00 o'clock." "Excuse me?" "Who's payin' for my bus fare today?" "I put it to you that on August the 26th last year you delivered approximately 200,000 dollars in cash to the office of Warren Halliwell." "Oh mate!" "Two hundred?" "Do I look like I got two hundred grand in cash?" "I'm on the bones of me arse, mate!" "I've gotta get home." "Who's paying for my bus fare today?" "You don't need to worry about that now, witness." "Oh, excuse me!" "I am worried about it." "I'm on medication, you know." "I gotta pick up me methadone before 5:00, otherwise I don't get nothin' 'til the mornin'." "Excuse me?" "Your Honour?" "Do you know who's paying for my bus fare today?" "Mr Dent, has the witness been afforded appropriate expenses?" "Sir, I'm informed those instructing me will arrange a cheque in payment of Mr Spitieri's witness expenses directly." "A cheque?" "What am I going to do a cheque, Your Honour?" "I don't want a fuckin' cheque!" "Me bus driver's not gonna take a cheque." "I need me bus money." "Otherwise, how am I supposed to get home?" "Yes all right, Mr Spitieri" "Mr Dent, I wonder whether, in the circumstances, some appropriate arrangements couldn't be made?" "To avoid further delays I'll get Mr Toole to fix that up now." "That's only twenty dollars." "Me bus doesn't come 'til 4:00." "I'm gonna need some lunch." "I think, perhaps, in the circumstances, the witness is entitled to be reimbursed for his luncheon expenses, Mr Dent." "I'll get Mr Toole to give him another twenty dollars to cover his luncheon expenses." "Thank you." "Thank you, Your Honour." "Table twelve away." "How far are those mains?" "In a minute, chef." "Barry?" "There's some sheila out the front says she wants to say hello to you." "Bullshit, Marion." "Give us a break." "No bullshit, darl." "She's a good sort too." "What does she want?" "She says she wants the chicken." "He's absolutely brilliant." "I tell you, darl." "He can cook anything, even all that rabbit food crap spinach, celery all that sort of shit." "I reckon he'd do a pretty good breakfast, too." "Well don't ask me." "Oh come on!" "If I wasn't a happily married woman I reckon I'd go the taste test." "Oh, here we go..." "Compliments of the chef." "Well, hop in for your chop, love!" "So this is the famous Chez Barry, eh?" "It looks like a restaurant." "Sure as shit smells like a restaurant." "Here he is!" "The maestro himself!" "Jesus, Baz." "Love the fancy fuckin' clobber, mate." "What do you want?" "Mate, I thought you might want to shout your Uncle Arnie a free feed, that's all   unless you dropped off your old mates since you got out of the slammer?" "is this official police business, Senior Sergeant?" "Well, fuck me." "Isn't this cosy?" "Kitchen's closed." "is that right?" "It looks like we might have to catch up some other time, then." "Since when did you think you had the right to stick your nose in other people's business?" "You've had your free meal..." "Fine." "Joey?" "Can you call me tomorrow?" "I need to see some employment records." "No need to get your tits in a tangle, Barry." "She's just trying to help." "So." "As you can see, Johnny, the reason I invited you over today for a swim was not all social." "You've gone and got yourself a headache, old son   a twenty thousand dollar headache." "Now of course, if you just did nothing to fix such a bad headache as this ... and it were allowed to go on for too long, a bloke could get very sick   maybe even die." "But fortunately for you, Johnny," "Mr Deviers here has graciously offered to give you an aspirin, which will hopefully kill this headache of yours   before it kills you, so to speak." "That's right, Johnny." "No doubt about it." "You're a very lucky boy." "So Arnie Devious wants me to get four guys together to pull an armed rob on the payroll office of the Australia Fair Shopping Centre." "Reckons he knows through the cops exactly when the cash is comin' in." "So... lf the timing's right, you'll be able to pull around four hundred grand." "And if the timing's wrong you're gonna go back inside for fourteen plus." "Yeah." "There's twenty grand in it for me and ten grand up front each for the other three." "So that square's your debt to Chicka?" "Yeah." "Yeah, it gets me out of the shit." "Oh except for the trafficking blue, of course   and the breach of parole" "and the perjury ... and the money launderin' if they decide to charge me with that." "I'm sorry about this." "Forget it." "I thought you were supposed to be the tough guy." "The bloke's out of control" "Yeah, well he shouldn't be allowed to get away with it." "You know I never killed that guy." "Yeah." "Chicka sconned him as we came through the window." "Whacked him that hard I couldn't believe it." "Why didn't you say something?" "I'm sayin' something now." "Bloody hell!" "There's a lot of fuckin' people!" "Yeah." "Bugger me days, son!" "We've not been that busy, have we?" "Ooh!" "Fuck me!" "Who's run you over?" "Chicka wants to know what you're fuckin' doin', mate." "I'm fuckin' thinking about it, aren't I?" "Well, you'd want to think a bit quicker." "Mate, I'll think as quick as I wanna." "Well mate, I'm tellin' ya." "No you're not." "I am, pal. I'm tellin ya!" "No you're fuckin' not!" "Too right I am!" "You're not fuckin' tellin' me nothin'." "I'm tellin' you!" "Well, mate, you've been told." "Bullshit!" "You have!" "Bullshit I 'ave." "Yeah, all right." "Well, anyway, you're being fuckin' told." "All right?" "Yeah mate, is that fuckin' so?" "Says who?" "Says me, Johnny." "That's who." "Yeah?" "Well, fuck you!" "Sorry, Spit." "It's nothing personal, mate ... lt's just that Chicka wants no more friggin' around." "So here's the go." "I get you the money you need to buy your building." "And you reckon you got it sold?" "So as soon as you get the money from the sale, you sign the Texas Rose over to me." "So my client has come into possession of some very sensitive information which he would be willing to disclose to you people on the understanding that you give him a break and you know, back off with this whole money business." "You mean discontinue all forfeiture proceedings?" "Exactly." "It would need to be pretty significant information." "What if I was to say it was an open and shut case of conspiracy to commit armed robbery by a very senior police detective?" "I can't pick it up on the directional mic." "Okay." "Let's bring him in." "So John, have you had a chance to think about all that now?" "You know, loyalty's one thing, John, but you really don't have too many options any more." "You're already going back inside for a long time." "If we add conspiracy to rob to the rest of what you're facing, you might never see daylight again." "The MSS blokes deliver the payroll to this entrance." "It's heavily armed." "Okay?" "I'll ring and give you the exact time and hour before the job." "Are you with me?" "Sweet." "The money's only there for half an hour, so don't piss about!" "There's a laneway at the rear." "You and your mates come up the back way through the rear fire escape." "Got it?" "As soon as you get the call from Deviers, you dial the number I've given you and say 'Go'." "That's it." "Just 'Go'." "Then you hang up." "The administration building will be under heavy surveillance front and rear." "We'll have you sound monitored all the way." "Visual surveillance will pick you up at the scene." "As soon as you go in, the building will be sealed off and your party immediately intercepted." "Do you understand all that?" "Yeah, mate." "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, John, how important it is that you stick strictly to the plan." "No, mate." "Strict, mate." "The van'll be waiting in the laneway when we come out." "We drive down, wait 'til it's safe, then let the other two out." "And they won't know who we are?" "No mate." "All organised." "Let's do it." "Get in!" "Hurry up!" "Come on!" "Get in!" "Okay." "Stand by." "Let's go!" "They're in." "They're in the building." "What?" "!" "What?" "They're in the building?" "Sector one, are they in the building?" "Not in here, they're not!" "How about sector four?" "Not in this building, they're not!" "We have no vision." "Repeat." "We have no vision." "Shit!" "They've done a switch on us!" "Righto, everyone down!" "This is a stick-up!" "Get your faces down on the fuckin' floor!" "Get down!" "Get down!" "Move you fuckin' animals." "Get down on the fuckin' floor!" "Get down!" "What's goin' on mate?" "This ain't the rightjoint." "Change of plans, Johnny Boy!" "Righto, Jack." "Let's see your safe." "Go!" "Get outta here!" "Down on the ground, Jack!" "Today!" "Get down!" "Come on!" "Wrap him up!" "Give us your hands, mate." "What, are you fuckin' deaf?" "I don't get it, mate." "We're in the wrong place." "No, Johnny." "I'm afraid you're in the wrong place" "Deviers found out you were dogging' on him." "He told me to give you this..." "Let that be a lesson to you, Jack." "Dead men tell no tales." "Anyone who gets up off that floor in the next ten minutes is dead!" "Let's go!" "Let's go!" "Come on!" "Don't fuckin' move!" "Jesus!" "What happened?" "There was a gun in the safe and the bastard popped him." "Shit!" "is he all right?" "He's gone, mate." "He's wasted." "Ah fuckin' Johnny Spitieri!" "He was fuckin' dead meat anyway." "Stuff this, mate. I'm outta here!" "You wait for the signal!" "Shit!" "Oh shit!" "The bastard's wired!" "He's fuckin' wired!" "Deviers... ls it dead?" "Sure is, brother." "So are you." "How does it feel?" "Actually, not half as bad as I always fuckin' thought it would." "You all right?" "No body has been recovered as yet." "But we've got a positive DNA matching from the floor in Cullan's office, and also from the overalls recovered from the industrial bin." "It is definitely Spitieri's blood." "We may never find the body." "What about the money?" "Predictably, Cullan denies there was any money." "He says they got away empty-handed." "Any chance that's true?" "None." "So we just monitored the murder of one of our own informants." "Before he shot him he said something like," ""Deviers said 'give this to you'."" "Then he shot him." "What is this?" "You tryin' to set me up?" "You cross me, Chicka, and I'll crush you like the fuckin' insect you are!" "What?" "What the fuck are you lookin' at?" "Hey, Barry!" "Where's that champagne?" "Well, that hit the spot." "Any more where that came from?" "Here you go, garbage guts." "You can have mine." "Don't mind if I do." "I didn't think you were allowed to eat that sort of shit." "What're you talkin' about?" "I got me Life Membership badge now, son." "No more bleeding' weigh-ins for me." "So what does that mean?" "You can eat what you like without puttin' on any weight?" "Fuckin' wake up to yourself, will ya?" "Surrounded by fuckin' geniuses, I am." "Barry!" "Sit down, darl'" "You're making the place look untidy." "Hello dari!" "Hi." "I got this today ... from Israel   from some imbecile who forgot to sign his name."