All language subtitles for Jack.Irish.Dead.Point.2014.1080p.BluRay.DTS.2.0.x264-k4n0_track3_[eng].1

How long's this gonna take?

Buggered if I know.
Couple hours.

How many are they checking?

- 12.
- 12?!

I only know
what the paperwork says.

I don't actually pack them,
you know, right?

And you drag me out of bed
with this shit.

It's the middle of the night.
Fuck!

That's a federal warrant,
Mr. Cundall,

and we'll drag you out here
anytime we like.

Yeah, I know what it is.
Here.

- That's yours.
- No, you keep it.

You know what? I just hope you're
checking next door's yard as well.

- I'll mail it to you.
- Yeah, you do that.

You mail it to me.

Look, it's on the bloody warrant.

We'll be here all night.

Have you organized them?

Surprise.

Huh. What'd I tell you?

Smack.

One and a half kilos, at a guess.

Where's the rest of it?

Keep looking.

Hey! What's that?
Hey! Get him!

Roger, VKC, we have
a visual on a red Porsche

travelling north towards the bridge.

He looks like he's making
for the freeway on-ramp.

He's heading under the bridge.

We've lost visual.

We're taking another pass.

He's gone.

Affirmative.
The target is gone.

- Sienna?
- What have you done?

Put these on.

Are you gonna talk to me?

You can't be here.
They'll be coming for me.

What have you done, Robbie?

You have to go.

- Give me that!
- Talk to me.

You have to go, Sienna.
It's not safe.

You have to get the hell out.

Robbie...

[ Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds'
"Red Right Hand" plays ]

♪ Take a little walk
to the edge of town ♪

♪ And go across the tracks ♪

♪ Where the viaduct looms
like a bird of doom ♪

♪ As it shifts and cracks ♪

♪ Where secrets lie
in the border fires ♪

♪ In the humming wires ♪

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

♪ Past the square,
past the bridge ♪

♪ Past the mills,
past the stacks ♪

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

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

Good morning, Melbourne.

3KB Talk Radio.
Linda Hillier with you.

Big night on the waterfront and
joining us now to dissect it,

having just flown in
this morning.

And I mean that literally.
She flies her own plane.

Indeed I do.

The independent member
for Gippsland East,

anti-drug crusader Susan Ayliss.

Welcome to the program.

- Good morning, Linda.
- Good morning.

We're hearing reports
of shots fired last night

at Swanson Dock. High-speed
chase, stolen Porsche.

Seems Justice Loder's report
on waterfront corruption

can't come out soon enough.

The facts are still emerging here,

so we'll continue to monitor
and assess them.

But right now I think we all
need to take a deep breath rather...

But you fought tooth and nail
for three years

for this judicial inquiry.

In fact you're on record
on this very show

accusing Cundall Stevedoring

of collusion with organized crime.

Linda, far be it for me,
or anyone,

to pre-empt the findings
of the Loder Report.

Customs, the Maritime Union,
and our stevedores

do a commendable job in
challenging circumstances...

We'll take a short break.

My guest is Susan Ayliss.
This is 3KB.

What the hell was that?
A free ad for the MUA?

You just lost your guest.

I don't appreciate being cut off.

Then spare me the back-pedal,
Susan.

You have no idea
what I'm up against.

Here.
Found his ID.

Wrong end, brain cell.

Looks like OD.

Jeez, you're good.

Hard to believe
you're still a sergeant.

Robert Colburne.
Another happy customer.

Is he a person of interest to
the drug squad, Ollie?

Yeah, yeah, that's him,
the prick.

One of our informants.

I'll tell you what, Baz,

we'll take over from here
if you don't mind.

Go nuts.

Oi. You, get over here.

Get on the business end here.

Barry?

You still looking
for your bloke Robbie Colburne?

Oh, yeah.
Flat chat.

I can confirm he is not buying
a latte at Enzio's.

Probably because
he just carked it

chasing the dragon
over at Burnley.

You owe me drinks.

Plural.

And you know that "bookkeeper"

is the only word
in the English language

with three sets of double letters

all next to each other? Amazing.

- Fellas.
- Jack.

That hot tip
you gave us last Saturday,

still running, is she?

Stone motherless.

Bloody pet food.

Speaking of that, how's the new
breakfast menu working out?

Wide berth, Jack.
Wide berth.

Hey, Jack, no, you can't
bring that in here.

We do our own now.

I did a barista course.
Online.

Invested in this little baby.

I hope you kept the receipt.

Stan, I'm more than happy to
pay you for an empty mug, mate.

And, uh, four of
your amber breakfast brew.

Make that five, actually.

Oh. Jack.

This bloke of yours pretty much
just a garden-variety OD.

Pretty strange place to OD,
though, don't you reckon,

in your own garage?

The Porsche he stole
had seat warmers.

That the Porsche from the docks?

Mm.

Mate of mine in the Drug Squad
said he was a snitch.

He's all over it.

Olsen.
Good operator.

Old culture.

How was that, Barry?

That was genuinely shithouse,
Stan.

Ellie?

- Jack.
- Hi.

- Oh, it's so good to see you.
- You too.

I was just dropping this off.

Oh, what's the occasion?

You're not finally
divorcing Jamie, are you?

A christening.
We had a baby. A girl.

Oh, congratulations.

That's fantastic.

Thank you.

Wow.

Jack, we've named her Isabel.

I'm hoping that's okay.

She would have loved that.

Did you want to meet her?
She's in the car with Mum.

Sure.

Mum?

Hi, Pat.

Oh, Jack.

It's been too long.

It has.

Congratulations.

Beautiful, isn't she?

Yeah.

Heh.

So will we see you there?

Try and stop me.

Isabel!

Trouble is you have
a romanticized view, Jack.

You and Isabel never got past
the honeymoon phase.

You never made it
to the domestic dead zone

of being told
how to stack the dishwasher,

fishing clumps of her hair
out of the shower drain,

varicose veins, toenail clippings.

I mean, you don't know
how lucky you are.

Have you ever considered
a career in grief counselling?

You know what I mean.

Is that your school tie?

Old boys' luncheon.

Indestructible,
these grammar ties.

It's probably why
they're so good for suicides.

A lot of the grammar boys
also use them for scarfing.

Isn't... scarfing when you
choke yourself during...?

Good to see those school fees
not going to waste.

Taxi!

Anyway, I'm not
gonna need that anymore.

So, you finally found
Robbie Colburne.

Dead.

Sterling work.

- Who do I bill?
- Bill? For what?

Having a quiet one
with Barry Tregear?

Contacts, mate.
That's how the work gets done.

Ah, point of order.
Work's not done.

Client wants to meet you.

Client who never wanted to meet
now wants to meet?

Mm.

Where's the client?

Colin?

Jack.
Been a long time.

You're still looking eminent.

Well, this was
my father's ritual

when he was still sitting.

Hmm.

"The might of the law must stand

before the majesty of the church."

He was right, of course.

Hey, Ellie dropped by.

I believe congratulations
are in order, Grandpa.

It's wonderful.

It was a long time coming.

Of course, Pat and I
always thought

you and Issie would be the first.

Come to the christening, Jack.

You know you can bring someone.
Bring someone.

All right.

Haven't got long now.

Only a few days
before I hand down this report.

Well, this Robbie Colburne
you were looking for,

you know he was a drug addict?

Colburne had information

which could have...
critical effect on the inquiry.

Information that died
with him, or...?

There's a leather-bound book.

It's red.

His memoirs, I take it?

Something like that.

Then why not consult the police?

My understanding is
they come rather quickly

when people like you call.

At this stage, Jack, I don't
necessarily trust the police.

Some of their names
could be in that book.

Mm.

I have to go.
I have to be in court.

Don't forget this is a matter
of the utmost discretion.

Of course.

Listen, Colin,

why didn't you come directly
to me in the first place?

Because every time I see you,
I feel sad.

- Laurie Olsen?
- Oh, Jack, come in.

Afraid I can only give you
a bee's dick.

Just working my way
through the Amazon forest here.

Oh, that's a nice-looking cat.

Yeah. Migsie.

No longer with us.

Yeah, Barry was telling me

you're interested
in one of our snitches.

Yeah.

Yeah, Robbie Colburne.

He got... form, has he?

Track marks?

Like Flinders Street Station,
mate.

Full-time pincushion.

Reckon I can have a squiz at one
of those crime-scene photos?

Come on, mate.

I'm already in the doghouse
around here.

Tell you what, Jack,

if assholes could fly,
this'd be an airport.

Right.

Right.
I'll get out of your hair.

Thanks.

Oh, listen, sorry, sorry.
One more thing.

You wouldn't have an address
on Robbie, would you?

Uh...

Ah!

Excuse me?

I just want to talk to you!

Oh! Oh!

And comes to a standstill
on the ring road.

Yeah, I know how you feel.

No, it's my ribs.

A man's got to know
his limitations, Jack.

Fighting fence posts
rarely ends well.

Yeah.

Hey, why are we bringing the
commissioner in on this one?

Well, I've got a little nag

ready to show unexpected form
in a feature race.

Wouldn't want anyone getting wind.

Commissioner marshals a crack team...

- Sorry, this won't take long.
- You're with Linda Hillier on 3KB.

Time now to hear from our listeners.

The number to call
is 1300-33-33-33.

Our topic today,

illegal drug importation.
How can we raise...

Uh, Len from Pascoe Vale.

And first up,
we have Len from Pascoe Vale.

- Am I on, Linda?
- Yes, Len.

- Ha ha!
- Go ahead.

Ah, long-time listener,
first-time caller.

- Big fan of the show.
- Appreciate that.

Now, aphids and lace bugs,
they're common plant pests,

but with the right insecticide
you can...

Len, if I can just stop you there.

The topic is actually
illicit street drugs.

Oh, drugs.
Not bugs.

And this not the gardening show?

No. Sorry.

Okay.

Let's take another caller.

So we've successfully moved on
from that relationship, have we?

Come on!

Move the...

This is the commissioner's house?

Is someone gonna get that phone?

Can you two stop fighting?!
Turn it off, please.

- Ollie, just give it to her.
- No!

- Ollie!
- Give it, Marie!

Give it to me!

- Baxter, get out of it!
- Give it!

Go get your bag.
Turn the Xbox off!

There she is. Lady Luck herself.

Harry, come on in. Come and
meet the case for contraception.

- Cam.
- Hey, Cyn.

Jack.

- Commissioner.
- Baxter, out of the way.

- Hi, Mr. Strang.
- Morning, Marie.

Right.
There's your ride, you lot.

Try and learn something today,
okay?

- Got everything?
- Yeah. Yeah.

- Alright.
- Have a good day at school, you mob.

- See ya!
- Laters.

See ya.

Cup of tea?

So, Cyn, all set for the Valley?

Right as rain, Harry.

My crew'll bet the market up,
push Mr. Renoir out.

Hit the ring, mop him up
in the high 20s.

Sorry.

Irish.

That was you before, wasn't it?

Len from Pascoe Vale?

Dixicano, now he's the short-priced
favourite. And there's good...

- Shouldn't you be on air?
- I'm in an ad break.

Well, I'm in a life break.

We'll play them like a banjo.

The bookies'll be sucking their
thumb in the foetal position.

So, is this your way
of asking me out to dinner?

Listen, if you want to
go out for dinner, just say so.

I could book Donelli's.

Doesn't anything change?

Not if I can help it, no.

I've got a better idea.

I'm back on air.
I'll call you later.

If our hoop stays wide,
avoids the traffic,

Mr. Renoir's a duck.

He'll swim home.

Ah, nice to have
your full attention.

And best you boys
avoid the track.

Keep at arm's length.

And I'll meet you here
for a spumante.

Still, shame they don't have races

with just one horse in them.

Just to be sure.

You look rather good.

I'll pass for radio.

It's good to have you back.

Yes, I may never
leave Melbourne again.

- Really?
- Well, maybe not never.

You know, they say
they've got "never"

down to about six months now.

Hmm.

So I, ah...

saw you in the paper with
that shock jock who does drive.

My star-fucking days are over.

I'm going for the lesser lights
of the galaxy.

Butchers, newsagents,

suburban lawyers.

Oh, I can probably help you there.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yes, I know an excellent butcher.

I'm thinking we take this slowly.

Yes. Absolutely.

Have you...
Have you heard of the Snug?

I'm game if you are.

I think it's a... a business
in the city.

Yeah, it's a private club.

Yeah, invitation only.

It's a veritable who's who.

Governors-general,
chief justices.

Even a PM or two, I've heard.
Why?

You moving up in the world?

I guess there's a dress code.

What?

Name?

I'm not a member.
I'm here about Robbie Colburne.

Police?
You've already been here.

No, no, no. I'm a lawyer.
My name's Jack Irish.

I, um, represent Robbie's family.

His name's Jack Irish...

Welcome to the Snug, Mr. Irish.

- I'm Ros Hoskin-Elliott.
- Jack.

Strong hand, Jack.

You don't always work
behind a desk.

No, not always.

This is my assistant, Xavier.

But we call him X.
The unknown.

He's bi-curious,
if you're wondering.

Oh, well, I'll keep that in mind.

Sienna tells me that you're
acting for Robbie's family.

Yeah, there's an estate involved.

We get a lot of lawyers in here.

QCs. Judges.

Mm.

Uh, what... what sort of club
is this, exactly?

We provide an oasis
of privacy and discretion.

It's somewhere where members
can be themselves.

To Robbie.
Tenderest of bartenders.

The needle was a surprise.

A little bit of nasal recreation
I could understand.

You think you know someone.

Was he close to anyone here?

Robbie was always
something of a dark horse.

And did he leave
any personal effects behind?

You know, maybe in a...
in a locker?..

I'm sorry I can't be of more
assistance, Jack.

But I will leave your name
on the door.

Hopefully we'll be seeing
more of you.

Well, actually I was, um...

I was thinking about applying
for a job.

Do you always pay
your bartenders this well?

Only the best for my members, Jack.

Sienna will see you out.

You're not the family lawyer.

Robbie didn't have any family.

What do you lot
want from him now? He's dead.

Uh, Sienna, is there somewhere
we can talk privately?

Not here.

Well, I'm a member
of a club myself, actually.

It's pretty exclusive.

It's the Prince of Prussia
over in Fitzroy.

I could definitely
leave your name on the door.

And here's my...

Last couple moving in.

Race number three on the card
from Moonee Valley,

1,100 meters the trip.

Caveat Lector
is the firm favourite.

There's been good money for
Hairy Canary and Run Romeo Run.

Racing now.

Dixicano got the best
of the start.

Thistlewaite began well.

Pooka's Girl missed the kick
by a length and a half.

As they race past
the 600-meters mark,

and the favourite,
Caveat Lector, leads clearly.

He's a length and a half in front.

Boozy Lunch is chasing
from Dixicano

and a margin away back
in the field to Hairy Canary

and Run Romeo Run,
best of the rest.

But it's Dixicano going out
after Caveat Lector,

and they're in
a tooth-and-nail struggle.

They're two lengths in front.

And Mr. Renoir starting to run
on, and then came Boozy Lunch.

It's Mr. Renoir out wide,
the surprise packet.

He's moved up to Caveat Lector.

Mr. Renoir's taken the lead.

Dixicano is riding on,

but it's going to be the
interstate rider, Mr. Renoir.

And Mr. Renoir
scores a dashing win!

Real upset here, Mr. Renoir.
The favourite...

So, in a real surprise,

Mr. Renoir has come storming
down the outside

just as Caveat Lector looked
like he was going to hang on.

Mr. Renoir has come rocketing
down the outside and has won

and, in the end,
won pretty comfortably.

Don't be a hero, bitch.
Hand it over.

Don't know
what you're talking about.

Aah!

We've got it.
Let's go!

That'll do! She's done!
Come on!

Come on!
Come on!

My favourite moment
is when it lifts off.

Pat says I have a pathological
obsession with hot air.

Occupational hazard.

I notice you're not carrying
a red book.

No. I, uh... I got close.

I saw someone coming out of
Robbie's flat with it,

but they got away.

God help me.

You're gonna have to tell me
exactly what's in that book, Colin.

It's a photo album.

Photo album.

Of what value?

How do you value a career, Jack?

I can't say I'm proud of myself.

Look, just to let you know,
I've been to the Snug.

Those women are...
pretty beautiful.

Not hard to imagine...

It wasn't a woman.

Ever tried...

to quell a craving, Jack?

Spend your life...

keeping the devil in the bottle?

Robbie said he was into photography,

black and white.

Arty stuff.

He said he wanted
a few keepsakes, so...

I gave him my old camera.

Ros lent us her penthouse.
Her love nest, as she calls it.

Not that I think
it's ever seen much love.

When he stopped returning
my calls, I got scared.

I knew he'd want money and gifts.

Price you pay
for dirty little secrets.

When I'd heard he'd died,

it felt like a reprieve.

All I could think of was
getting hold of that red book

before it fell
into the wrong hands.

I couldn't bear it

if Pat and Ellie found out.

Well, let's just wait
till we get the phone call, eh,

from whoever's got it,
to see what they want.

I know already.

Mr. Justice Loder, may I say
what a charming couple

you and Robbie make.

The photographs are quite
touching in their intimacy.

What a shame you'll now have to
step down from the inquiry.

I'm so looking forward
to your report,

but people can be so quick to judge.

Do the wise thing, Your Honor,

and the album and the negatives
shall be returned.

Are you gonna step down?

Start all over again?

All that testimony
null and void.

Three years' work
down the drain.

A chance to make a difference.

A chance to stop addicts
like Wayne Milovich

murdering my daughter.

Destroy my career,
or destroy my family.

I'll get that book back.

The handover to the premier
is on Monday.

Jack,

I must say I find...

having you as a colleague...

strangely comforting.

Oh.

Judge calling me a colleague.

That's got to be the
high-water mark of my career.

Isabel always said we should
do that together one day.

Irish.

There she is.

Hey, Cynthia.

Hey, Cynthia.

You looking after your mum,
Marie?

Yes, Mr. Strang.

There were two of 'em.

The money.

Harry, I'm so sorry.

No, now, now, none of that.

You just rest up, and you
don't worry about a thing.

A little something
for the hospital bills.

I should never have let her
leave the track on her own.

You couldn't have known, Harry.

The punt's the punt, but...

this is something else.

Not a thing used to happen.

You know, bash a woman like that.

Bastards'll do anything.

Not the sport of kings anymore.

Makes you wonder about giving it up,

shutting up shop.

We'll fix this Cynthia thing, boss.

Yeah, we'll take care of it, Harry.

I wonder if there's security
footage... in the car park.

I'll put a call in
to my mate at the Valley.

Soupe du jour.

Well it does always feel
like Paris in here, Stan.

Homemade, is it?

Oh, yeah.
Fresh out of le can.

Now, did I tell you, Jack,
I'm expanding the clientele?

Moving upmarket.
Cyber frontier.

You know, new technology.
The IT crowd.

Who? Eye-ties?

All in Carlton, the Eye-talians.

No, no, no. IT.

Information technology.

Though you blokes think a flush
dunny'd be new technology.

A dunny that flushed around here
would be new technology, Stan.

Hey, Jack.
Working already.

Welcome to the Fitzroy Youth Club.

I get the feeling
your joining fee may be waived.

Cards on the table.
Who are you?

Ah, well, my client was being
blackmailed by Robbie.

You don't seem very surprised by that.

Were you and he close?

I thought we were, but no one
got close to Robbie.

Because of the drugs?

The only time I ever saw him
touch drugs was to deal them.

Did you ever hear about Robbie

having relationships with men?

Because there's an album of
photos that's gone missing.

- I was just wondering...
- I think we're talking about sex,

not relationships.

Your client, Colin Loder, right?

I know him from the Snug.
I've seen the photos.

And someone put Robbie up to it?

What do you think?

The judge wasn't the only one
he set up.

Somebody pressed
that needle in, Jack.

Somebody wanted him dead.

I've got to go to work.

Thanks.

Oh, see you later.
Tell your friends.

Are you Warren from Mulgrave?

I mean, really, Jack.
Come on.

How'd you find this?

Ah, can't say.

Mm. Who's the stud?

Robbie Colburne.

From the raid on the docks?

The junkie that was found dead
in the Porsche?

Yeah.

Who's your client?

I can't tell you that either.
You've seen enough?

Yeah.

Well, it explains why
she's been muzzled.

- This is big.
- Mm, it is.

But you can't run with it yet, okay?

Just give me a few days.

Firstly, what I need from you
is Susan Ayliss' phone number.

Quid pro quo, Jack.

You can't expect me
to sit on my hands for too long.

Who the fuck are you?
I have backed off.

What more do you want from me?
Money?

No, I'm a lawyer. I represent
one of Robbie's other victims.

Oh.

So you've seen it, then?

That was supposed to be
a private recording.

I was lonely, Mr. Irish.

I've never had
sex like that before.

Sure.

Did you only meet Robbie
the one time?

After we left the Snug,
we went back to his place.

And the blackmail was to gag you
on waterfront corruption?

A sex tape of Susan Ayliss?

Should have told them to send it to
every television station in the country.

It's not like I'm married.

Might've improved my social life.

Do you have any idea
who was behind it?

Mike Cundall came to mind.

Cundall Stevedores?
Did you confront him?

I'm only stupid once.

Robbie's death...
Did that surprise you?

Yeah.

It made me sad.

I was hoping I'd have the chance
to kill him myself.

Ah, excuse me?

Are you Mike Cundall?

What grubby newspaper
are you from?

Oh, I'm not a journo, mate.

Oh, lucky. I was gonna
accidentally have to drop

one of those containers on you.

No, my name's Jack.
I'm a lawyer.

Oh! Spoke too soon.

How'd you get security access?

Ah, Justice Loder's office.

Listen, I just wanted to ask you
if you were aware

of a sex... sex tape

involving Susan Ayliss.

No.

But if you've got a copy,
I'd be happy to take a look.

Well, she reckons you might have
put Robbie Colburne up to it.

Yeah? Oh, that'd be a fair cop,
you know?

Yeah, between processing

half a million containers a year,

I like to make a bit
of amateur porn on the weekend.

Do you know Robbie Colburne?

Yeah, heard the name.
Pinched a Porsche, didn't he?

Well, and a bootload of smack,
apparently.

Listen, if you think

some pissant judicial inquiry's
gonna bother me,

you're wrong, right?

I deal with the big boys
in shipping.

Take a look.
See?

Just don't expect me
to take the fall

for some conga-line fuck-sticks

running customs and the AFP.
Got it?

Now, there's the exit.
Fuck off.

What time do you call this, huh?

You come and go as you please,

like a cat.

Place looks like a mausoleum.

Charlie still
in the old country, is he?

Yep.

He hasn't even sent me a postcard.

Come for a ride, Jack.

They're letting the commissioner
out of hospital today.

Oh, yeah?
Righto.

I should have
taken up cabinet making.

A man needs a hobby.

Maybe golf.

Stamps.

You've got your horse racing, Harry.

They're just quadrupeds
running in a circle.

I'll be in the car.

First time he's been out of
his dressing gown in days.

He won't even
look at the form guide.

Hey, my mate from Moonee Valley,
he came through.

CCTV, black Land Cruiser.

Left the car park
just after our race.

Let me guess.
Stolen car?

But I spoke to Cynthia before.

Less vague now,
but she says one of them

had a tatt on his middle finger,
right hand.

What sort of tatt?

Oh, jailbird tatt.
Stick figure with a halo.

Bit like an old Saints logo.

Oh, a Saints fan
with a criminal record.

That should narrow it down a bit.

That's the way.
Easy does it.

Somebody did the garden.

Harry sent his man over.

Somebody's done the house.

Oh, Harry's got a man
for everything.

All you need to be doing, Cyn,
is getting better.

Even the shopping.

Oh, are... are you in pain, love?

You right, Cyn?

I don't deserve this.

Well, of course you do!

I'm not a good mum.

What sort of life
have I given my kids?

Where's this coming from, eh?
This the morphine talking?

They'll be home soon.
I must look a fright.

Uh, maybe get her makeup.

I don't have any.

Try Marie's.

It's my own stupid fault.

Working seven days a week,

letting Frank screw me over
with child support...

Oh. Don't.
Come on, come on.

♪ That's right,
the puma on my chest ♪

♪ I'm a sound the trumpet ♪

♪ Dispatch you
with a grand assault ♪

♪ As crowns fall ♪

♪ Boogie boys go blow for blow,
projecting fireballs ♪

Cam, you're hurting my arm.

Oh, you mean this one
you've been jabbing needles in?

I found this in your room.

What were you doing in my room?

I was looking for makeup
for your mum.

You haven't told her, have you?

Listen, it's not about the drugs.

It's about whoever it was
who nearly killed your mother.

It's over.

I haven't used
since she got bashed.

You realize you could go to jail
for conspiracy, don't you?

I told this bloke
that my mum did big-money bets.

What bloke?

Come on, Marie.
You can't go back now.

Artie.

- His name's Artie.
- Artie.

He hasn't got a tattoo
on his finger, has he?

Little stick figure.

I don't know where to find him.

He has a number you text.

So why'd you tell him?
Showing off?

I don't know.
It was stupid.

Mum always warned me that...

All right, so you told Artie,
and then what?

He says, "Tell me when your mum's
going to the races and I'll..."

I'll give you a free hit."

Nice.

That morning you all came 'round,

I knew something big was brewing.

I'll trace the number.

I'll let you know when I find him.

Still want
that crime-scene happy snap?

Oh.

And they say you blokes
move at a glacial pace.

Speaking of,
have you seen this pie?

This thing's crumbling
like an Antarctic ice shelf.

Hand ball over the top!

You know if you squint,

you can almost forget
it's only the amateurs.

Go, Roys!

Yeah!

Come on!

Yeah!

Bravo!

Oh, lovely play.

Oh, did you see the side step?

Feel like I've died
and gone to heaven.

We're gonna win this one, Jack.

I can feel it in me bones.

I reckon that's your osteo, Eric.

Who's this, mate?

Elvis Presley.
Who do you think it is?

Well, it's not Robbie Colburne.

No, that's definitely not him.

Well, there's a shitload of
paperwork says differently.

If Robbie wasn't dead,
where do you reckon he'd be?

Wait in your car.
I'll see if I can get away.

It's a nice car.
It's a Studebaker, right?

Yeah.

Mm.

Sienna can't get away.
There's a...

cabinet minister
that needs entertaining.

She told me
about the photographs.

Mm.

So it seems that Judge Loder's
been a victim

of a rogue element
of my establishment.

So Robbie...

wasn't bidding on your behalf, then?

Jack, I'm a facilitator.

I'm a keeper of secrets.

- Mm.
- There's no Snug without them.

Colin's a good man.

I don't want to see his name
dragged through the mud.

So...

if there's anything...
that I can do...

Thanks.

Come inside next time.

You must be
the world's oldest apprentice.

Can't sleep?

Here, make yourself useful
and hold that, will you?

It's a two-person job.

When does Charlie get back?

I don't know.

It was only supposed to be
a short trip, apparently.

I'm wondering if he's gone home
to die, like an elephant.

Why didn't you tell me

that Justice Loder's
your father-in-law?

I saw the invitation on the fridge.

I didn't think it was relevant.

Is he your mystery client?

He's a member of the Snug.
So is Susan Ayliss.

What's going on, Jack?

Look, he's been compromised, okay?

It's a personal matter.

Oh, I hear the women there
are beautiful.

Been touching the merchandise,
has he?

It's a... Just... Just hold that.

Please don't run the story, okay?

It'll kill him.

But if Loder's being blackmailed
like Susan Ayliss,

then someone's trying to fix
a judicial inquiry.

People need to know
about that, Jack.

You want to win a Walkley Award
by outing a judge.

Is that right?

If he wasn't Isabel's father,

would we even be having
this conversation?

Is this for your niece?

Yep.

They named her Isabel.

Yes, they did.

Can you believe it?

Why don't you move in?

Just like that?

Yeah. I mean... people do it.

What are we doing?

Cooking meals for one,

sleeping in empty beds.

I'm just not sure
what we're waiting for.

Well...

Why don't we start with you
inviting me to the christening?

Baby steps?

To the extent that the forgoing
waiver is enforceable,

the company and its directors
unconditionally agree

that their sole right...

...past, present, or future in
perpetuity in any jurisdiction

shall be limited
to the recovery

of money damages et al.

The parties agree that the sale
in Schedule A are incorporated

mutatis mutandis.

God, I love it
when you speak Latin.

I, Isabel Irish,

do hereby herewith heretofore claim

all reasonable rights, waivers,
warranties, and consents

to enjoin, restrain,
or otherwise ravish you

unconditionally under the
Marital Act, in perpetuity,

habeas corpus, prima facie,
carpe diem,

ad hoc, ad hominem,
ad nauseam,

adios, adieu, arrivederci,
sayonara.

How much wood
could a woodchuck chuck

if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

...and hereby agree to indemnify

the plaintiff against alleged...

She's adorable.

I can probably get rid of that now.

You know, I had a guest
on the show once

who sets a place at the dinner
table for his wife every night

even though
she's been dead for 17 years.

His second wife
doesn't even bat an eyelid.

You can't hurry
the letting go, Jack.

Well... just to let you know,

I don't have three sets of cutlery.

Cam.

Linda.

- Cam.
- Jack.

See ya.

Fancy a drive, Jack?

Uh...

Yeah.
All right.

The billing address for Artie's
phone is at North Sunshine.

A-OK Salvage.

Dead end, by the looks of it.

Not exactly the Golden Triangle.

As far as I'm concerned,
you stayed in the car.

Hey!

Hey!

You Artie?

Don't know where he is.

You mind? I'm working here.

Well, it might be a good idea
if you talk to us,

tell us where we might be able
to find him.

Hey?

Why don't you fuck off?

Oh, you fuck!

That was a big mistake.

Cocky?

Just give us a yell
if you need a hand, Cam.

Just grab the door
for us, hey, Jack?

Aah!

And grab the keys.

Get in, you maggot.

What's this about?!

Remember that day at the Valley

when you beat that woman to a pulp?

I don't know
what you're talking about!

What are you doing?!

No!

Where's the money you took?!

What money?

Stop!

No!

No!

No!

No!

No! No!

Where's the money, Artie?!

And this is
the last time I'm asking!

That's enough! Turn it off!

What, do you always go in the
portaloo with a shotgun, do ya?

Get down!
Nice and slow.

Something amusing, is there?

I didn't touch her, I swear.
It was Artie.

- God's me fucking witness!
- Shut up!

He just went berko.

Where's the money you took?

Inside, behind the poster.
There's a safe.

Piss-weak dog, Lizard!

Well, why don't you show us
where that picture is, Lizard?

Classy.
Open it!

Step back.

Hey.

- Irish.
- Jack? It's Sienna.

I need to see you.

I think there's someone
you should meet.

Hey.

Hello?

Jack.

Welcome to the Cathexis.
You found it okay?

Yeah.

Where's, uh, Sienna?

We're out by the pool.

I believe you've met
my husband, Mike.

You're not acrophobic,
are you, Jack?

It's a long way down.

Husband?

Mm, I kept my family name.

Carries more weight.

This is... Senior Sergeant Olsen.

He's our, like,
liaison officer.

Take a seat, Jack.

Supplementing your super,
I assume, Laurie?

Yeah, well, you know.

I was kind of hoping

when Sienna mentioned
a mystery guest

that I might finally
get to meet Robbie.

Why would you ID
a no-name junkie as Robbie?

Ohh...

Easy to kill someone
when he's already dead.

No paperwork.

So your, uh... pet got off
the leash, did he, Mike?

Supposed to deliver a Porsche
and went AWOL?

Thieving prick didn't take
into account that...

that Laurie here was on the books.

Beretta.

Better than a Glock.

Don't trust those Austrians.

What are you playing at, Jack?

Are you waiting for us
to blink first?

Is that why
you're trying to find Robbie?

Do you think that maybe...

he's got the photo album?

Hey, Mike.

The neighbors?

You need to advise
your client to step down.

Now.

Colin, it's Jack.

Listen...

Uh...

I'm just gonna
have to call you back.

- Jack Irish?
- Yeah.

This your vehicle?

What's going on?

You mind opening the boot for us?

Sure.

You're under arrest.

Keep your hands behind your back.

We have a code 33.

Dead girl in the boot, Jack.

Pretty serious warning.

They don't have it.

- What?
- The book.

If they did, they wouldn't have
gone to so much trouble

to stop me from finding Robbie.

You got to get me out of here, mate.

You are good at this
sort of thing, aren't you?

I'm not a QC.

Oh.

That's not really helping.

Mr. Irish.

I'm Detective Sergeant Tregear.

This is Detective Constable Owens.

After the bloody siren.

Cruel.
A 60-meter torp.

You wouldn't bloody read about it.

She was a sweet kid, Sienna.

And they just chewed her up
and spat her out.

Who's "they"?

The Cundalls.

And your man, Olsen.

Shit.

"32 years on the force,"
you said.

"One of the only men
I could trust."

Adds up, actually.

You know, the brass
have been trying to figure out

who's been
rolling out the red carpet

on illegal imports for years.

So Olsen snaffles a few crumbs

while the mother lode
waltzes through.

With the wharfies
up to their necks in it.

Owned and operated
by a right royal Cundall.

Keep your head down, Jack.

It's my ass on the line now.

Listen, how long's my car
gonna be impounded?

I don't reckon they're gonna let me
drive around the streets of Fitzroy

in one of Cam's bogan-mobiles
for too long.

You're lucky you're not impounded.

You know, cutting you loose
isn't exactly standard procedure.

Mm.

Got to go.

I have to swing past Carol's.

Promised her a knee trembler
against the Kelvinator.

They're bluffing, Colin.

They don't have the red book.

Robbie stole their drugs
and nicked off

before they had the chance
to get it, and he must have...

forgotten it and left it behind
in all the chaos,

and so he had to come back.

But why?

I mean, he wasn't the focus
of the inquiry.

He was at the bottom
of the food chain.

Bargaining chip, I suppose,

in case the Cundalls
went after him.

The press conference
is tomorrow morning.

After the report is handed down,

he'll have nothing to bargain with.

Well, that's right.
They'll be under arrest or in jail,

and he'll be free. The book
won't mean anything to him.

Bloody book is still out there!

If Pat and Ellie find out about this,

it'll break them.

Judicial inquiries.

Royal commissions, where the shit...

interfaces with the fan.

Until that book is destroyed,

it's going to hang over my head

like a Sword of Damocles.

Listen, I'll find Robbie
before they do, okay?

A lifetime of trying to do
the right thing.

The Honourable Judge,

devoted husband,

respectable family man.

But you fuck one goat...

You mustn't judge me, Jack.

Isabel adored you, Colin.

That's good enough for me.

Don't do anything rash, okay?

Moving office?

I don't have long, Mr. Irish.

Listen, Robbie Colburne's
not dead.

- Is that a sick joke?
- No.

He didn't happen to mention
anything to you

about a place to hide, did he?

We barely spoke.

So he didn't say anything
at the Snug

or back at his place that night

about a holiday house
or a property or...

It was purely physical.
There was nothing else.

Are you sure he's not dead?

You might get your chance
to kill him after all.

Warren from Mulgrave.

I knew it.

Heard the news?

Susan Ayliss resigned.

"Personal reasons."

Ah. Well, I'm on my home.
I'll see you there.

Susan, it's Linda Hillier again.

Uh, I'm still looking for a comment

before I run the story
on the Colburne tape tomorrow.

Ah, look, if... anyway.

You have my number.
Thank you.

What took you so long?

Someone just tried to kill me
in Fitzroy Gardens.

Shit.

Here.

Take a look at this.

Did you hear what I just said?

Yeah, yeah, but you're okay, right?

There it is.

See?

Her face.

It's that look.

Well, she did say she'd never
had sex like that before.

Well, that can sway
the best of us, believe me.

But that look...

That's more than lust.

She fell for the bad boy.

We should know better, but we
always end up falling for them.

That's why she resigned.

So she's a liar.

And that's not the only time
she's had sex with Robbie

in his Burnley sex pad.

Since when was Burnley
near the ocean?

What do you mean?

There, in the window.

Do you see it?
A flash of light.

- That's headlights, isn't it?
- No, no. That's not headlights.

There. That's a lighthouse.

How is that a lighthouse?

It's every six seconds.

Oh, right.

Hey, she's the member
for East Gippsland, isn't she?

Yeah.

So I reckon we need a list of all
the working lighthouses in that area.

With an airstrip nearby.

She's a pilot.

Flies her own plane
to and from Melbourne.

A regular Amelia Earhart.

Are you going to Loder's
press conference tomorrow?

Of course.

I'm a bit worried about him.

Jack, I know the judge is family,

but are you sure
it's worth all this?

Of course it is.

Okay, there's only one airstrip.

A private property at Dead Point.

Well, that's quite a leap, Susan,

going from blackmail victim to this.

You spent five years of your life
crusading against drugs,

and you throw it all away
for some bloke

who fakes his own death
and knocks off some poor junkie.

He was one shot away anyway.

It was the only way
I could disappear.

Right. You must feel
real proud of yourself.

We fell in love.

We weren't expecting that
to happen.

Well, I've seen his handiwork.

I need that red book.

Forget it.

It's my insurance.

We have to go.
We have a long flight ahead.

Aah!

How'd you get those marks
on your neck, huh?

- You been playing on the swings?
- You're hurting him!

They're here.

Where's the photo album?!

- It's in the plane!
- Show me!

Hey, don't move!

Hello, Jack!

You know, Jack,

I think I'm gonna have to revoke
your Snug membership.

Get her here.
On her knees. On her knees!

Oh. Naughty boy.

Mm!

And as for you, Judas,

we'll have our fucking drugs
back now, if you don't mind.

It's in the plane.

They're all yours.

Just... let us go.

Oh!

I thought about it.
The answer's no.

Please! Please!

Hey!

Get him.

Shut up!

Let's go!

What are you looking at?!

Get the fucking thing started up!

Jack,

it's Colin.

It's almost time.

Thank you.

I know you did your best.

Pat?

Pat, it's me.

I want you to know

that I love you.

Come on. Come on.

What the fuck?

What's are you doing?

Get this fucking thing up!

Fuck!
Go! Let's go!

Get out!

Jack, they can't find the judge.

Nobody knows where he is.

Jack?

- Mr. Premier.
- Where's Judge Loder?

- Mr. Premier.
- Will the judge be...

Judge Loder!
Look this way! Over here!

Judge Loder!

Never mind.
He's here.

Laurie Olsen, you're under arrest.

You know the routine.

You're not obliged
to say anything unless...

Pat. Hi.

Oh, I'm so glad you could come.

Congratulations.

Oh, are you hurt?

No, it's nothing.
I fell over, running.

Um, I'd like to introduce you
to Linda.

Pat.

I listen to your show every day.

Thank you.
It was a lovely ceremony.

Justice Loder,
it's an honor to meet you.

Oh, Colin, please.

Here she comes!

- Jack.
- Hi, Ellie.

Hi.

- Congratulations.
- Thank you.

Um, this is Linda.
Ellie.

- Hi. Nice to meet you.
- Hi. You have a beautiful baby.

Thank you.

I think she can't wait to get home
and get into her crib.

Charlie Taub's a maestro.

Last of his kind.

- Do you want to hold her, Jack?
- Sure.

Isabel, meet your Uncle Jack.

Oh.

Hi, Isabel.

I'm really happy for them.