All language subtitles for Underbelly s06e01e02

You wanna know my secret, do you?

How I'm gonna
pull off a job like this.

Well...

There's three points
you gotta consider

to take on
this sort of... enterprise.

First, you need
to pick your crew.

They gotta have a range of
skills and do as they're told.

Second, timing.

They gotta be
where you want them

at precisely the moment
you want them there.

They get there too soon and
they stick out like dog's balls.

Get there too late and, well,

the whole thing's
down the dunny, isn't it?

Then there's the all-important
third element.

Someone's gotta be in control.

Someone's gotta see
the whole enterprise playing out

like a general,
directing his troops.

But, ladies and gentlemen...

the most important thing
you need

to pull off a job like this,

the thing that I have
by the bucketload...

is confidence.

Confidence.

We're gonna turn over
a jewellery store,

but not any old
jewellery store.

We're going top end of town.

We're gonna turn over Drumm's
emporium in Collins Street.

Right. Tank, Snowy,
you're guarding the door.

Don't let anybody else in.
And keep your eyes peeled.

There's at least two jacks

patrolling the arcade
at all times,

and they'll be armed.

Gus, you're on the inside.
You gotta keep up the chat.

Wait till I give you
the signal, then move fast.

Oh, by the way,
I'm gonna wear a disguise.

Doll, you're the decoy.

Just imagine
you're a respectable lady.

- Don't drop your 'H's.
- I can't 'elp it.

Doll, come on.

Don't get distracted.
You'll give the game away.

Sorry.

- And just one guinea, sir.
- Right.

It's of the best quality,
is it?

The finest quality, sir.
Just one moment.

May I help you ladies?

The muffineer in your cabinet.

Beautiful quality.

Best out of Birmingham.

Hm.
Do you have any larger?

Uh, larger?

Also very fine.

The jacks.

Put it away!

He hasn't noticed anything.

- Come on.
- Excuse me!

Uh, one moment.

This one here -
a guinea, you said?

- Uh, yes, sir. That's correct.
- A guinea?

- Yes.
- I'm gonna need some change.

- I can supply you with change.
- Do you mind?

I have a cold in my head,
and I haven't got all day.

Yes, madam. I'll just be
with this gentleman first.

- This is most unsatisfactory.
- Apologies, madam.

- It's a busy spell.
- The cruets behind you.

Uh... Yes, madam,
they are a very fine article.

From whence did they originate?

- Venetian.
- Venice!

Marvellous.
Love the canals.

I shall enjoy perusing them.

The finest...

Wait!

Wait! Wait!

Somebody! Help!

Help!

How good was that?

How much do you reckon we got?

Thousands. Doll, millions.

Pitch bloody perfect.

The salesman had no idea.
It was perfect.

I was perfect.
I told ya.

I told ya.
I can do anything.

What are you gonna do
with your share?

Don't know. I can do
whatever we want.

Room for three at this party?

- No.
- Snowy. Mate.

- I could kiss you. Come here.
- Hey.

How come Gus
is carrying the loot?

Oh, come on, you square.
We've been through this.

Tankbuster!

That was clockwork, mate.
You were clockwork!

It was great, wasn't it, eh?

Smart.
And no rough stuff.

Doll, get us a drink.
Come on, let's celebrate.

How come Gus
is carrying the loot?

I told you, mate,
he doesn't attract attention.

Suppose someone rolled him? One
of Long Harry Slater's boys?

- No, Gus can look after himself.
- Oh, yeah, what?

Wallop 'em
with a book of poems?

I should have gone with him.

Right, so you can shoot up
Collins Street, huh?

And didn't I particularly
tell you not to bring a gun?

- I just want my fucking haul!
- Put the gun away, Snowy.

Ask and ye shall receive!

Oh, ye of little faith!

Ah, Les, I do believe you have
found us the riches of Solomon.

Show us what we risked our
necks in broad daylight for.

Deadset bloody legend.

To Les,
the bloody little legend, hey?

Legend!

A legend.

Yeah, I don't mind
the sound of that at all.

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Jewellery robbery! Police
baffled! Jewellery robbery!

Police baffled!

Drumm's jeweller's
has just been turned over.

- Do we know by whom?
- No, we do not.

Word is they got away
with thousands.

Cheeky.

We don't mind
a bit of cheek, do we?

Who the bloody hell was it?

Dunno. You know?

I dunno.

Henry Stokes?

Someone new, then.

New crew?

It's lucky
it wasn't on our patch.

Otherwise I'd have to
hunt them down

and cut their fuckin' nuts off.

Oh! Thank you, Raymond.

That's good. Here.

Bad business,
that 'Galla-polli'.

- Gally-what?
- You know, over in Turkey.

- Our boys, done over.
- Yeah, well, bloody Poms.

Don't know how to
stick by their mates.

Speaking of mates, what
the dickens was Snowy doing

bringing that shooter to a job?

Just showing willing.
Snowy's alright.

Showing that he's bloody loopy.
He'll be the death of ya.

Mate, you just worry
about keeping the swag safe.

I'll do the talking.

Leslie Taylor for Mr Stokes.

He's busy.

He'll want to see me.

Might have trouble
spotting you in a crowd.

I just thought, you know...

I thought he'd want to
decide for himself.

Wait here.

I could play baccarat,
you know.

- With these toffs?
- Yeah, if I wanted to.

Yeah, well, I prefer
a game of two-up myself.

G'day, Mr Stokes.
Have I got a treat for you.

Thought you were a pickpocket.

Must have very deep pockets.

Oh, we do what we must.

I actually regard myself

as cut from your cloth,
Mr Stokes.

Pig's arse.

Well, like you, I see further
than from me hand to me mouth.

So, what can you do me?

300 the lot.

- 300?
- Quality merchandise.

- I'm not denying.
- Oh, you bet it is.

There's more carats here
than South Melbourne Market.

This stuff would fetch more like
3,000 in the shop.

You reckon we should
go back to Drumm's,

see if they'll sell 'em for us?

No, no, but...
Well, you know.

Blokes who melt 'em down,
recut 'em.

And you clearly don't know
that items as hot as these

would make them nervous,
and that costs.

300.

Well, seeing as
we can't do business,

I'll be taking my merchandise
elsewhere.

Suppose I could see my way
to 320.

- 400.
- 340.

- 375.
- 350.

Pleasure doing trade with you,
Mr Stokes.

- Or can I call you Henry?
- You can whistle 'Dixie'.

I want to go through this
all again.

Where's Detective Brophy?

John?

Freddy! You've come
to slum with us, have you?

Another pot, please, Clem,

and a glass of milk
for my lady friend here.

The Drumm jewel robbery.
What have you heard?

Come, now, John.

Don't you have more fizgigs

than any other officer
south of Victoria Street?

They've all been afflicted with
a terrible case of the shrugs.

What about
your habitual jewel thieves?

One's doing three to five
in Geelong,

the other one was
last heard of in Hobart,

trying to pass off
marcasite watches as diamond.

A heist like that
doesn't happen out of thin air.

- Needed planning.
- Inside job?

The staff all check out.

Someone new in town, maybe?

I'm thinking a blue.

Oh, blue is good. Navy?

Navy is a hue that would
set off your piercing eyes.

- In a pinstripe.
- A blue pinstripe.

- A blue-and-red pinstripe.
- Blue-and-red.

How audacious!

Now, pay attention, class.

What the hell was that? Huh?

You bloody little sook.
Watch this.

Huh?

Mate, when I was your age,
I could pick the ring

off a bloke's finger -
he wouldn't feel a thing.

Smarten up. Go work the arcade
and work those doors, alright?

And do it like you mean it.
Go on.

And here's
me favourite bad penny.

Took the words right
out of me mouth, Mr Brophy.

- How's tricks?
- Can't complain.

Good, 'cause I wouldn't listen.
Now, those boys of yours.

They been flat out
like lizards drinking, I hope.

That job up in the arcade, that
robbery at Drumm's jeweller's.

- What about it?
- You heard anything?

Uh, no, just... just, uh,
what I read in the paper.

It was, um,
done in broad daylight,

and they got away
with thousands.

And a smart enterprise.

Pulled off by a couple of
sheilas, if you can credit it.

But it's got a funny smell
about it, that job.

Smell of what?

Well, for a start, it took
real brains to pull it off.

Now, that rules out
all the crooks in this city.

Bunch of gutless wonders
and bantam roosters, you lot.

But never mind.
I still love ya.

The most important
thing you need

to pull off a job like this,

the thing that I have
by the bucketload,

is confidence.

Now, that's just
another word for balls.

You got clean hands, Bert?

Pass us that ribbon?

Dumb prick.

He's a thick-arsed,
big-bellied bastard, isn't he?

- Who?
- Bloody Brophy.

Always taking me dosh,
looking down on me.

Think your mum'll like yellow?

Doll.

I thought roses,
on account of...

And then I thought...

you know, I could
maybe give 'em to her.

I might just, um...

Dolly.

Well, we've been together
for three years, Les.

- She's gotta meet me sometime.
- Oh, of course.

But today's not a good idea.
You know, she's an old busybody.

She'll give you the third
degree, ask a hundred questions.

Well, I wouldn't drop
me haitches.

Or me daks.

You can drop your daks for me
any time.

That tickles.

Oh, roses! Oh, Leslie.

But you always were so poetic.

I got you this too.

A muffineer!

It's pure silver.

Have you been spending
all your wages on me again?

- You know me, Ma. Lucky punter.
- No, Leslie.

You're not lucky.
You're clever.

And you make the most of
your chances. Isn't that right?

- Absolutely.
- Well, that's my boy.

Well, this is lovely,

though you know all I really
want from you, don't you?

- Oh, Ma!
- Now, Leslie.

I just want to see my son
married to a nice girl

who'll give me
grandchildren to spoil.

I don't have time for that.
I'm a busy man.

Oh, I know I don't know all
the ins and outs of your job,

and I'm sure
it's very, very important,

and you know I couldn't
be prouder of my clever boy.

But you're never gonna
make your mark in this world

as a bookie's clerk,
now, are you?

I don't usually
patronise the Crystal Cafe,

but I was feeling
kind of lonesome.

What a coincidence.
Miss, uh...

- Call me Lottie.
- Miss Lottie.

- I'm all alone too.
- Oh.

Well, let's see if

we can't be of some comfort
to each other.

Squizzy was christened

Joseph Theodore Leslie Taylor.

The nickname referred
to the fact he was short.

And if that wasn't bad enough,

'squiz' was also slang
for a bowel motion.

Nobody likes to be called
a little shit,

but the moniker would stick
for the rest of his life.

You do have
the most developed leg muscles

I have ever seen.

Well, that'd be my bicycling.

Wouldn't have taken
a handsome bloke like you

for a delivery boy.

I'm a bank manager.

I manage two branches.

Doncaster
and up at Templestowe.

Let me get that. Doncaster?
That's bloody miles away, love.

Nice orchards, but.

Well, fruit-picking season's
my busiest time of the year.

These days, I'm cycling
20 miles twice a week,

delivering the pays
to the Templestowe agency.

Oh, really, love?

And all that exercise
gives me a fearful appetite.

Oh! Oh, well.

You seem to be in a big hurry.

A big, big, big hurry.

Oh! Oh!

That was a waste
of me time and expertise, Les.

You are so...

We didn't make
any money off him.

I know we didn't.

- I know.
- But...

But we will.

Because we're gonna rob a bank.

Morning!

So, he leaves
the Doncaster branch at 10:00

and he cycles down Doncaster Road
to Williamsons, right,

and then he turns left
into Manningham Road,

and he follows that all the way
down to the crossroads

at Templestowe Road -
is that right, Gus?

Yeah.

All along here, the paddocks
are filled with fruit pickers,

so I reckon we take him out
here, right at the crossroads.

There's nothing there but
bloody Jersey cows and sparrows.

And there's bushes up here,
for cover.

Where we knock him.

No, only if we have to.

Course we have to.
He's going to see our faces.

No, he won't.

We'll be wearing disguises.

Hang on.
I'm not wearing a frock.

But you look
so good in one, Snow.

Les, how exactly do you plan
on getting us to Doncaster

and back again?

Yeah. It's the back
of bloody beyond.

Took hours to walk.

- We use a car.
- But none of us drive.

Burns Motor Taxis.

How much to hire a good car
tomorrow morning?

And I'd like to travel
to Eltham and back.

The usual charge
is a shilling a mile

and 5-shilling
detention fee.

And you're sure
it's a good car, a good driver?

All our chauffeurs
are excellent.

And the driver -
how do we, uh, manage him?

We knock him once
we're back in town, right?

- Wrong. We cut him in.
- But he's a squarehead.

Tank, he's a chauffeur.

Mate, we drop him
a couple of quid,

he'll drive us to Darwin
if we want.

I'm not working
with some outsider.

No, I'll sort
the taxidriver out.

Jeez, if... if we
want to do this caper,

we need a car
and someone to drive it.

Les, I admire your plan,
but it's rather... Byzantine.

Now, perhaps it's just better
if we don't bother.

- Don't bother?
- Mmm.

This bank manager
carries 500 quid in that bag.

500 quid, right?

Even split four ways, that's
more than a year's wage each.

So we can make a year's wage
in a single morning.

And, Gus, you're right.
It is a tricky caper.

And no-one's done it before. But
that is why it's going to work.

Cold, hard cash?

It's me favourite kind.

The taxi company
isn't gonna like

taking its fancy little motor
up Little Lon to collect us.

Tank, that is why
you're with the smart party.

Cliveden Mansions, East
Melbourne, 8am. You got that?

Yes, sir. And the name
of the booking party?

Uh, Mr L'Estrange.

Thank you.

Right,
and there's one more thing.

There's not enough room
in the taxi for all of us.

We're all gonna get
a share of the coin,

but I'm only gonna use
one of you on the day.

Who?

Sure Snowy's
the right choice for this?

I mean, Gus is smarter,
and Bert's bigger.

No, Gus is too soft.

Tank's too slow.

Snowy...

scares people.

- Thought it all out, ain't ya?
- Yeah, of course I have.

I'm on top of it all.

- Just leave it be.
- It tickles.

Leave it be, I said.

- Mr L'Estrange?
- That's me.

To the countryside, I hear.
Lovely day for it.

Better for taking in
the sights.

- What's your name, mate?
- Uh, Bill.

You been driving cabs
long, Bill?

Yeah, no, couple of years.
Won't be much longer, but.

- I'm joining up.
- Is that so? Good on ya.

All me mates are over there.
Figure I shouldn't miss out.

Actually, take Templestowe Road,
would you, Bill?

You know, it's quicker if we...

He said take
bloody Templestowe Road.

You having a shindig
before you head to France, Bill?

Oh, I ain't got the moola.

Oh, well, you can't go to war
without a party, hey?

That's not right.
It's not Australian.

Yeah, I know. Well...

Maybe if I kill the Kaiser,
the King'll give me a prize

and I can have one
when I get home.

See, I can't serve meself
on account of flat feet,

so... oh,
the least I can do is...

is make sure you have
a decent send-off, Bill.

Hey, fair dinkum?

Well, that'd be real bonzer
of you, sir.

All you need to do is, uh...

is help us out
with a little something.

No-one gets hurt,
no-one loses out,

and you get your big shivoo.

I knew there was something off
about you the second I saw you.

There's nothing off
about the chance

to make an easy quid, Bill.

- Please get out.
- Beg your pardon?

I won't do what you're asking,
so... get out. Please.

Mate, there'll be nothing
to link you into this.

It's not right.
It's stealing.

Don't turn your nose up
at the chance of a lifetime.

Shut the fuck up
and do as he says.

Or I'll give you a new hole
to whinge through.

Doesn't have to go this way,
alright? You hop back in.

You drive us to Doncaster,
we spot our bloke,

we do our thing,
and in half a jiffy,

we're all that much richer
and you're off to the front.

Or I can blow your fuckin' scone
to kingdom come right now.

Come on, mate.
It's not that hard.

Look the other way
for 10 minutes tops.

Bugger this.

What did you do that for?

Well, you told me to bring out
my shooter if he didn't agree.

To scare him, not to blow
his fucking brains out.

Jesus, Snowy!

Well, he wouldn't do
what you said.

- He wasn't gonna drive us.
- He's certainly not now, is he?

Huh? I was talking him round
and you shot him.

Snowy. What a moron!

Who you calling
a fucking moron?

You, you moron. What, you
learned how to drive, have ya?

Huh? So we can roll
our bank bloke?

Gonna drive us back to Melbourne
after, are ya?

Go on, get his body off the road
before someone comes along.

Well...
Why do I have to do it?

'Cause you shot him.

So, what do we do now?

Where you going?

I'm taking a constitutional

back to Melbourne,
thanks to you.

Why don't we hitch?

What, so someone can put

two and two together between
King and Country here?

Jeez, you're a nit.

Jeez?

What?

- Can I have me gun back?
- No.

Fuck me, Les.

Not if you were
the last bloke on the planet.

Fuck!

- Come on, you.
- Fuckin' new suit.

I didn't hear shots or nothing.

I was just coming
to see to the fence

and I heard voices -
two blokes.

You hear what they were saying?

They was angry, but.

And then I saw 'em heading
across the bottom paddock.

- Towards town?
- By way of the weir, yeah.

- Did you get a gander at 'em?
- Not their faces.

The tall one, he had one
of them straw Panama affairs.

- And the other bloke?
- Bit of a titch.

Wore a black bowler.

Well... Good on you
for dropping in.

Oh, um, one of 'em,
the short bloke,

he was carrying something.

- What?
- A suitcase.

But when they come out
of the trees round the weir,

he didn't have it no more.

Right.
Well, thanks for dropping in.

One short, one tall. Not
exactly Mr Observant, is he?

Detective Bruce,
do you know how to swim?

- I can manage the 50 yards.
- That should be plenty.

What do you want
to do that for?

Evidence, Jack.
The key to modern policing.

The key to modern policing
is locking up crooks, Fred!

Always has been.

The shorter one
was in the front.

- How tall was the tall one?
- Taller than me.

-5'10"?
-5'10". -5'10".

- Short one? How high?
- Well, he was shorter than me.

- 5'6".
- 5... No, no.

-5'2".
-5'2". -5'2".

Fred!

Moustache.

Spectacles.

- And gloves.
- Dress-ups.

Frederick Piggott
was ahead of his time.

He believed good police work
was purely a matter of science.

John Brophy, on the other hand,
was an old-school cop

with a nose for character,
especially bad character.

Both men would play significant
roles in Squizzy's downfall.

"Police have formed the
suspicion that taxidriver Haines

"was an innocent victim
in a cunning plan to rob

"either the Doncaster
or Upper Templestowe bank

"or waylay the bank officer
carrying Treasury notes.

"Police say
it was a foul scheme

"but one requiring
great ingenuity."

I mean, black and white.

- I'm a genius.
- Genius, my arse.

Which is hanging
out of me trousers since we didn't make any dosh.

And whose fault was that?

Says here he was gonna join up.

He was gonna fight the Fritz.

I need a real drink.

I might sup from the font
of the Bard.

I gave the kid a choice, Tank.

If he'd... if he had have
listened to me,

he wouldn't have come
to any harm.

He was just a foot soldier,
you know?

I'm a general.

Tactician. Planner.

If he'd obeyed my rules, he'd
be halfway to France right now

and we'd be rolling in it,

but he missed his opportunity,
didn't he?

They don't really
kill kittens, do they?

Oh, yeah, they stab
their frickin' eyes out.

The pubs have to shut
at 6pm from now on, right?

Hip, hip hooray for
the new licensing laws, I say.

'Cause if I know
the Aussie male's capacity

for consuming
fermented vegetable products,

then I know that
your excellent establishment

will be getting a lot more
new customers come Monday 6pm.

That is, of course, unless they
wander down to your competitors.

But why would they, right,
when I happen to know

a young,
enterprising businessman

who can supply you
with plenty of amber fluid

for the right price.

How much?

I'm sure we can come
to an arrangement.

The pure genius of my scheme

is that nobody gets hurt.

The trick's getting our hands
on a regular supply of grog.

Well, that requires
a long-term arrangement,

and the best way to do it

is to make sure every bloke
along the way gets a handshake.

Wagon driver, foreman,
depot manager.

Yep. Pure genius.

There really is
more to you than just a...

a pickpocket, isn't there?

Oh, more strings to me bow
than Paganini, Mr Stokes.

Call me Henry.
You're Squizzy, aren't you?

Oh, I prefer Leslie.
Me mates call me Les.

Put it there, Les.

Busy.

The new restricted
trading hours for pubs,

I imagine people
will be drinking more coffee.

I thought you'd be
applauding 6:00 closing

all the way down
to the Temperance Union, Fred.

It's a futile law,

destined to make
the solving of real crime

all the more difficult.

Now, to this matter of
the Haines taxidriver murder.

This fellow calling himself
L'Estrange has booked a cab

to pick up from Cliveden Mansions,
East Melbourne.

- Who is he?
- Who indeed?

Surely, he's got to be
known to us.

I don't know about you blokes,
but all the crims I know

haven't got the patience
for this sort of job.

Surely it's
an out-of-town mob.

Can I have an oolong tea,
please, a scone?

Can I get a black coffee
and a finger bun, thanks?

Look, this description you took

from the residents
of Cliveden Mansions.

"The second man I observed
getting into the taxi

"was short, no more than 5'2"
in my reckoning."

And our farmer witness insists
that one of the two men he saw

was quite the shrimp.

Look, there is
this titch of a bloke.

Leslie Taylor is his name.
They call him Squizzy.

- But...
- But what?

He's a petty crim.
He lifts wallets.

Runs bets down the track.

He's not a murderer
or a bank robber.

He hasn't got
this sort of fancy gig in him.

There's nothing fancy
about shooting an unarmed man

in the side of the head.

No, but the other stuff -
using a phone and false name

to book the taxi.

Planning the robbery down
in the boondocks. Disguises.

I mean, this bloke is a...
is a pickpocket in Little Lon.

- He's not Professor Moriarty.
- What's your connection to him?

He's a fiz.

Slips me a bit of information
from time to time.

Information?

So even though
this criminal fellow Taylor

fits the description,
you don't believe he's our man?

He's a short-arse with a
big head full of piss and wind.

He comes into this place,

he swans around
like he owns the joint.

Hang on, gentlemen.

Now, the bloke
who booked the taxi

used a telephone, correct?

- That's right.
- What was the name he used?

L'Estrange.

Doll...
You should have seen it.

I had him
eating out of me hand.

He asked me to call him Henry.
He even called me Les.

Les, there's
someone to see you.

Who?

Sorry, Les.

Mate.

Why?

For that young bloke.

And for the kittens.

Here's to Tank.

May he shoot
every Hun he meets.

And show those French sheilas
how an Aussie bloke does it.

Tankbuster!

Harry.

Fuckin' dickhead.

Did you say something, Taylor?

I was just asking how's tricks?

I hear that you've
been getting chummy

with no less
than Henry Stokes himself.

I might have done a bit of work
for him here and there, yeah.

A pickpocket from Little Lon,
playing with a big boy.

I hope you ain't overstretching
your reach, hmm?

Boxing in the wrong div.

I do alright.
But thanks for your concern.

Fuckin' string bean.
Overstretching me reach.

If he knew
what I'm capable of, huh?

You know, what I've done.

Fuck, everyone here
should know who I am.

They should all know,
every single...

Don't think
that's such a good idea, Les.

- Just calm down.
- Get him.

- Hey, hey.
- And him.

What's going on here?

Brophy, what the fuck?
What is this?

One tall and fair,
the other short and dark.

- You're under arrest.
- Under arrest?

What for? Brophy!

If this is about the booze,
I can cut you in, you know that.

This is a lot more than
a bit of slap and tickle.

You've gone a lot further
than that.

Leslie Taylor,
you are charged with the murder

of taxidriver William Haines.

There's
a difference between confidence

and overconfidence.

Squizzy's greatest enemy
wasn't the police,

and it wasn't
Long Harry Slater.

It was much closer to home.

We have a witness that places

both Taylor and Cutmore
near the scene.

We have a farmer
who saw two men,

one of them carrying
a brown suitcase,

walking in the direction
of the car towards the weir,

the same weir from which
Detective Bruce here

retrieved
this brown suitcase...

filled with
implements of crime.

We also have an old chap
who saw them

getting into
taxi number 11-0-22

outside Cliveden Mansions
at 8am that very day.

He tells us the two men
he saw are definitely not fellow residents.

And the accused -
Cutmore and Taylor?

Typical criminal thugs.

That's Cutmore to a tee,
but Taylor,

I reckon he's got
a bit more going on up top.

Not after he's hanged,
he won't.

Squizzy Taylor.
Your lawyer's here.

- I didn't do it.
- Me neither.

- I never killed that taxidriver.
- Me neither.

I was nowhere near Doncaster
that day.

My girlfriend will tell you.
I was with her.

Yep, and I was there too.

The police case
against you is...

a mite more substantial.

And Piggott and Brophy
are brimming with confidence.

We can't sort it out
while we're stuck in here.

Any reason you can't
arrange bail, Eugene?

?50 for him.

Hold on.
I've got two eyewitnesses.

You can't be serious.

And...

And ?50 for him.

Mr Cutmore. Pub?

Oh, and how, Les.
I could go a beer.

I could murder one, in fact.

You're not worried
you'll swing?

Not if you swing
with me, Annie.

I like my business
nice and regular.

Now, a murder charge could be
somewhat problematic for you.

- Distracting.
- Henry.

I agree that your average bloke
on the street

facing the, uh, hangman's noose

may regard it
as somewhat of a problem.

See, but I, on the other hand,

I see me situation in an
altogether different complexion.

I see it as a challenge.

So how are we
gonna nobble those witnesses?

- Snowy!
- Ways and means, mate.

How's trade?

The Rats had
a lean couple of days.

- Everywhere's quiet.
- What the hell is that?

Three lines on page five.
Is that all I fuckin' rate?

What is with
that fuckin' nickname again?

- Got my name right, Squizz.
- Shut up.

Come on, fellas.
We've got work to do.

Oh, Mr Farmer!
Thank you, Mr Farmer!

I beg your pardon?

Well, the gentleman
sitting there

may resemble the shortish man

I saw getting
into the car that day,

but... as to it
actually being him?

Well, now I can't be certain.

You are the matron
of the City Watch House?

Yes.

And on the night of March 17,

the defendants
were in the cells there?

Yes, they were in
adjoining cells three and four.

Did they have
any conversation together?

They did.

- And did you hear it?
- I did.

At about 11pm, prisoner Taylor
was feeling jittery

about the eyewitnesses
ranged against 'em.

Those bloody witnesses.

Les.

Stop tapping.

Can you stop fuckin' tapping?

And then he calmed somewhat.

Did Taylor
discuss his change of heart

with Cutmore?

- He did.
- Oi, Snow.

What?

Well, the way I see it,

those bastards
can't very well pot us

if the witnesses of theirs
can't identify us.

Right. So how are we
gonna do it?

Once we've made bail...

"The bastards
can't very well pot us for it

"if those witnesses of theirs
can't identify us."

And what did you
understand from that?

That he meant to get at 'em.
Get at the witnesses.

Dolly worries about me.

She reckons
I'm gonna die young.

Someone's bound to put
a bullet in me head one day,

she reckons.

I just laugh.

She wouldn't be happy

if she didn't have
anything to worry about.

I wouldn't mind a bullet,
or even a blade.

Anything but the rope.

Good old Doll. Been looking out
for me since I was a kid.

It'd be half a day
of your time, morning at most.

- You'd be done by lunch.
- This has got sand in it.

What you're asking, Les,
I could go to jail for it.

You, go to jail? A respectable,
smooth-talking man like you?

You said yourself that me out

keeps this business
running smoothly, alright?

- This is to your advantage.
- Really?

Seems to me the advantage
only flows one way.

Business is
a two-way street, Les.

I do something for you, you
have to do something for me.

So, what are you offering?

A 10% price cut
on the sly grog.

15.

20?

Mr Stokes, where were you

on the morning of the 29th?

I was at the Crystal Cafe,
on Bourke Street.

I arrived around 10am.

Did you see
anyone you knew there?

Yes, Mr Cutmore and Mr Taylor
were at a table near the rear,

with Miss Dolly Grey.

You saw the accused
in Bourke Street,

in the city, at 10am?

The same time
the prosecution claims they were shooting Mr Haines

a full 12 miles away
in Doncaster?

I saw them at 10:00.
They were sharing a pot of tea.

Mr Taylor was
reading the newspaper -

the 'Argus', I believe.

Squizzy! Squizzy!
Squizzy! Squizzy!

- This way, Squizzy!
- It's the press, Squizzy!

Uh, gentlemen,
it's Leslie, actually.

Glad to be found
not guilty, Squizzy?

Glad to suck the sweet air
of freedom into me lungs.

Do you have any words
for the police, Squizzy?

Oh, look, Mr Brophy and
Mr Piggott have a job to do.

I know that. It just seems
to include harassing me.

And me name's
actually Leslie...

Has being faced with a death
sentence affected you, Squizzy?

- Has it changed you?
- It's had a powerful impact.

And it's made me truly ponder
the meaning of me life.

And will you mend your ways?

Well, put it this way.

Whilst you live,
live in clover,

for when you're dead,
you're dead all over.

Squizzy, Squizzy. One more.

Oh! Sorry.

- Oh. Hello, sir.
- Hello, Squizzy.

Oh, well - glad to know
we're still doing business,

Mr Brophy, huh?

- No hard feelings?
- None.

I'm just gonna screw you
for everything while I can.

The coppers don't appreciate
being made look stupid, Les.

You shit in your own nest,
you'll choke on it.

One day, Brophy.

One day,
you'll tell your grandkids

you knew Leslie Taylor.

Knock, knock.

Or is there a secret password?

This is nice, isn't it?
Hey? Lovely.

Very, uh... very homely.

Perfect for
a little sly grogging

to the citizens of Fitzroy.

So you're free to pick pockets
again, thanks to Henry Stokes.

You must be giving his dick
a pretty solid suck.

No dick sucking involved, Harry.
We're just good friends.

Yes, well,
any mate of that bastard,

I'll take with a grain of salt.

Check it.

You think I'd sell you
watered-down? Harry!

You wound me.
You really do.

- Man of me word.
- Good thing too.

Or I'd make you eat them.

So, you doing me the same price
you're doing Stokes?

- Les!
- Arsehole!

Les! Calm down!
Look, it's not about you.

It's about him trying
to put one over Henry Stokes.

They cross the street so they
don't walk on the same cobble.

I don't care why.
He's a dickhead.

And I need every penny
I can get.

The bastards will send me
to the poorhouse.

I was thinking maybe
we could pull off a bank job.

Snowy would be in for sure,
and we could top up the coffers

for all of us
in one fell swoop.

No can do, mate. The jacks
are watching me day and night.

I can't take a slash without
Brophy or one of his uniforms

offering to shake it for me.

Right, and Snowy and Ed tell me
it's the same for them,

but it's not gonna
last forever, right?

And I'm planning to put one
over them, but until then,

we're just gonna have to keep
our heads below the battlements.

We could boost a safe, then.

We could roll a bookie.
There's a big race day...

Fuck it, Gus!

I'll come up with
the bright idea, OK?

But until then,
you'll give it a rest.

Trouble is I got a couple
of urgent domestic expenses.

Bloody Henry VIII here.
Shouldn't have too many wives.

Well, at least Gus is married.

Some men round here ain't been
down the aisle even once.

- How is Mrs Murray?
- Which one?

The landlord's been going
on and on about the rent.

And the butcher wouldn't
extend me any more credit.

But now you're home,
we can pay them all.

Of course we can.

- Love?
- Hmm?

How much do we owe exactly?

?108, six shillings
and tuppence.

Right.

Put your hands up
or I'll blow your brains out!

I'm a desperate man,
and I need all your money!

- Sorry.
- I should punch your head in.

Probably for the best
I'm in here, then.

What's the name of your accuser?
I'll have a chat.

Thanks, mate, but it's...
it's under control.

I think I'm going to have
a shot at defending myself.

Defend yourself with what?

Power of the spoken word, mate.

- Gus.
- Mate. -No, no, no, no.

One word in the teller's ear
would be all it takes.

Les, I appreciate it,
I really do.

But it's fine.

Let it please the court

that regarding the day
in question, it is...

perpetrator of the crime
speak with an accent

indigenous to
those states of the Union

opposed to the abomination
that is human slavery,

that the perpetrator
of the crime

which bound him hand and foot,

thereafter purloining moneys
from the safe,

spoke with a...
with a Yankee accent.

What I wish to discover, in the
interest of jurisprudence...

lends itself to rigorous
testing of evidence

and the golden thread
of the assumption of innocence,

is was this truly a...

was this truly a Yankee accent?

Beg pardon?

I'll repeat the question,
shall I?

My love.

Come on.

- Don't bend over in the shower.
- Thanks for the tip, Snow.

Alright.

So you... you'll come
visit me sometime, yeah?

- Help me while away the hours?
- You can count on it.

I warned him about
doing jobs on his own.

QED - that's Latin for
"It's not my fault."

"Dear Gus, Hope this
finds you in the clover.

"Sorry I haven't
dropped by yet,

"but I've been busy, very busy.

"My advice? Keep clear
of any of Long Harry's mob.

"And remember,
if you stand tall,

"no bastard can get you down.

"Meanwhile,
I always find it helps

"to look back
on the good times."

I can't sleep.

I said, I can't sleep.

Sorry, Gus.

Dolly is always telling me,
I make things to complicated.

That's just 'cause
she doesn't understand

the way me mind works.

You see, I like being

the smartest bloke in the room.

Gives me a thrill.

But the biggest thrill

is when you dream up
an ambitious plan...

and bang, it comes off.

There's no other feeling
like it.

It's better than sex.

It's time we took our
relationship to the next level.

I've got a proposal,
a way for us both

to get ahead a little
in these difficult times.

But it's a bit... involved.

I've got a proposal
for you, Harry,

a way for us both to make a quid
in these difficult times.

Why would I do a job with you?

Well, we ain't ever
worked together, Harry.

And why is that, huh?

Why haven't the Narrows Gang

and the Bourke Street Rats
come together?

Joined forces like the Spartans
and the Persians?

The Spartans and the Persians

kicked the shit
out of each other.

Well, the point is
that we're stronger as a team.

What's the plan?

A tried and tested one.

First, we use disguises
to avoid identification.

And second, we organise a decoy
to distract the staff

while we snatch the loot.

And third, my personal
signature, we chain the door

so they can't chase us
and call the jacks.

It's brilliant, huh?

And who do we use as a fence?

- Henry Stokes.
- Stokes?

I wouldn't trust him
further than that.

He'll get us a good price.

Yes, well,
so would plenty of others.

Well, do they have
Stokes's clout and his reach?

Stokes is a liar and a cheat,
and he's from Tasmania!

I vouch for him.

What if I agree that
one of your blokes is bagman?

Matt Daly.

He carries the loot,

and he does the deal
with Stokes.

Is he reliable?

I'll vouch for him.

Mr Brophy, I want to... I want to
get us back on an even keel.

You know, back to normal.
Show...

- Show willing.
- How willing?

Word on the street is there's
gonna be a jewellery robbery.

So the jacks nab Daly
before he gets here.

And they get to look like ace
crime busters. Everybody wins.

- Except Matthew Daly.
- Yeah, well.

He'll have to do
a spot of time.

But as far as
Long Harry's concerned,

that's because Daly
attracted too much attention

and got himself arrested.

How do we make any money
out of this?

Well, Mad Matt Daly's
the decoy, right?

Snowy's the one
lifting the loot.

And unknown to Matt, he's gonna
make the lion's share disappear.

You stuff this up

and you'll have every man
in town after you.

He's got the bag. Ready?

Let's just possess ourselves
with patience.

See where he's headed.

Come on.
Brophy, grab him!

What are you doing?
Hurry up!

- Who are you?
- What are you doing here, Daly?

- Mr Stokes!
- What?

Police!
Don't move.

Fucking jack!
Don't you touch me!

Get your hands off me!

Hold your horses!
Hold your...

Where is he?
Where is the little turd?

Hey, no need
for name calling, Harry.

I should never have
fucking listened to you.

You and your stupid
fuckin' schemes.

Harry, it wasn't my fault.

Matt reckons close to a dozen
jacks turned up at Stokes's.

And I think he drew them there.

And how do you
reckon that, Leslie?

Well, he's a thug, Harry. Stomps
along like Jack the Ripper.

Any cop in town would know
that he was up to no good,

but he was your choice, so...

Anyway, look,
I'm glad you're here,

because I need to know that
we can depend on him, right?

You know, with the jacks.

Are you saying
that I would have

a filthy dog working for me?

No, I'm saying
that for all we know,

he's in there fizgigged

and putting you and me
in it right now.

Matt knows how to
keep his gob locked, Les.

What bothers me is this.

You see, it says that
1,435 quid's worth of rings

was taken from Kilpatrick's.

But when the jacks
nabbed Matt and Stokes,

they only had 300 quid's worth.

Well, that leaves over ?1,000
worth of sparklers missing.

- Where have they got to?
- I don't know.

Maybe their report's wrong,
Harry. Hey?

Or Kilpatrick's are running
an insurance scam, eh?

- Upping their losses.
- No, no, no, I don't think so.

You see, I think
that someone has dudded me.

- Dudded ya?
- Yes, dudded me.

And I know who.

Henry fucking Stokes!

Yeah, well,
what makes you think it's him?

Because he is the only prick
that I know

who has got
the sly, calculating brain

capable enough of coming up
with a scheme like this!

I'm tellin' you, Les,
if Matt goes down,

I am gonna find Stokes,
I am going to cut off his head

and I am going
to shit down his neck!

OK, well,
we'll sort it out, hey, Harry?

You just relax, hey?
Take a seat.

Bunny. You're
making me nervous, mate.

- Come on, Doll. Make 'em a brew.
- Cup of tea?

Cup of tea would be great,
Doll. Thank you very much.

Well, have a seat.
Have a seat, everyone.

Squizzy Taylor
had learned a thing or two

about the court process
during his murder trial.

He'd discovered that
as part of full disclosure,

jury members'
names and addresses

were posted for all to see.

A few quid to the right jurymen

and Stokes's and Daly's
chances of acquittal

looked a whole lot brighter.

Hopefully, all the bad blood
his scheming had caused

would soon be
water under the bridge.

Mr Stokes, the police claim

when they arrived
at your business premises,

they found rings
stolen from Kilpatrick's

on your desk.

Mr Stokes, you said in your
original statement to police

that at no time
did Mr Daly offer

to sell you rings stolen
from Kilpatrick's jeweller's.

Are you now saying he did
offer you stolen property?

No, he never offered
to sell them to me.

We find the defendant...
not guilty.

Even though
his man had been acquitted,

Long Harry was far from happy.

There was still the little
matter of a missing ?1,000.

Happy days, Doll, hey?
All's well that ends well.

- You heard from Cutmore yet?
- Uh, yeah.

He's got onto
the best fence in Sydney,

some... sheila
called Kate Leigh.

He's gonna be back any day now,

and our pockets
will be that much richer.

Well, well, well. Stokes
the thief with his pet rat.

Be careful.
You might catch fleas.

Hold him.

You can hear me
good and clear, can ya?

Listen up. You ain't welcome
in Fitzroy no more, Squizzy.

Your good mate over there
neither.

No-one that you work for.
No-one who works for you.

Fitzroy, Carlton, Collingwood,
it's all my territory.

If I see any of youse
north of Victoria Street,

I will kill ya.

Hey, Les. Les!
What do you reckon?

As a seamstress,
do I make a good prossie?

Oh, I forgot to tell ya.

I got a card from Tankbuster,
all the way from France.

He looks handsome, doesn't he?

"Dear Dolly, Greetings from
the land of frogs and garlic,

"though I haven't seen
neither of them,

"just mud and more mud."

You can read it later.
Let's, um...

Let's do something fun, Les.
Let's go to the pictures.

The only thing I feel like doing
is kicking the shit

out of Long Harry's fat head.

He really said we weren't
to go to Fitzroy anymore?

And I'll return the favour.

I'll slit his throat
if he comes down here.

You know what I reckon?

If you went and saw Harry,

bought him a beer,
everything would sort out.

Let's just nip it in the bud

before someone
really gets hurt.

- Before someone gets hurt?
- Well...

He almost split me skull, Doll.

- You brought that on yourself.
- Brought it on meself?

Playing people off
against each other.

Doublecrossing, triplecrossing.

You're always
trying to prove you're smarter than everybody else,

and I don't know why -
what's it all for?

I'll tell you
what it's fuckin' for.

Where did this come from, hey?
Hey? And this shit? Huh?

My mental schemes mean
that you don't have to

spread your legs day and night,
so don't piss on me parade

when you're happy enough
to take the spoils.

All I'm saying is that someone
has got to pull their head in.

Few days ago,
there was none of this silly

"my territory, your territory".

- It was all just mates.
- Mates?

Well, mates don't go
kicking you in the head,

don't stab you
in the back, hey?

Fuck you if that's your idea
of being mates...

That's not what I meant!
Les, where are you going?

Fuck you!

Hey, you're
a bloody waste of time.

You don't do anything
around here!

Loves me not.

So don't piss on me parade

when you're happy enough
to take the spoils.

You know what I reckon?

If you went and saw Harry,
bought him a beer,

everything would sort out.

It would - let's just
nip this in the bud

before someone
really gets hurt.

- What do you want, Doll?
- Whisky.

Whisky would be nice.

Look, I know what
happened between you and Les...

didn't go according to plan.

And, look, look,
but the way I think of it

is that nobody's lost an eye,

and you've given out
payback to... good payback,

him and Henry Stokes, and...

Well, there's no more need

for any of this bad blood
that's between us.

Dolly?

Come and have a drink with me.

Help!

Oh. Thanks, Ma.

Hope you destroyed the horse.

- What horse?
- The horse that kicked you.

- Oh. Nah, not yet.
- Well, you should, Les.

Animal that's gone rogue.

Can't be safe to have
round the stables.

Better to be safe
than sorry, I say.

Well...

Who'd have thought
a bookie's clerk

would be such a dangerous job?

- Top-up?
- Mmm. Yeah.

Let me read your leaves first.

- Ma, come on.
- Now, now, Leslie.

You know I got the gift
from your gran.

Well, you see the
same thing for me every time.

Wedding bells and confetti.

I just read
what the leaves say.

A lady.

Bowl me over with a feather.

Oh, she's a special one
alright.

She's kind, considerate.

Yeah, she's got her head
screwed on alright.

Plenty of common sense.

She's brave too.

And loyal.

She'll stand by you
in a hurricane.

Ooh, and see this
little piece here?

Means she's got a heart
made for loving.

You know, she sounds like
the perfect girl.

Oh, she is.
The leaves never lie.

Well, won't it be wonderful
when you finally meet her?

Doll? Doll.

Hey, I'm really sorry
about what I said before, eh?

I was a real prick,
and I know that.

For me? Oh, Les,
you shouldn't have.

G'day, mate.

How are ya?

- Yeah, what happened to you?
- Oh, it doesn't matter.

- How was the Harbour City?
- Oh, a shithole.

- It's too bloody hot.
- I know.

And you do alright with
the Kilpatrick's bits and bobs?

- Oh, you bet I did.
- Good man.

Got over ?400 in me kit.

400? Mate! Where's Doll?

- She asleep, is she?
- Nah, she's not here.

Well, I let meself in.

Yeah.

Oi, Taylor!

Oh, Doll!

Doll, come... come...
Come here. Oh!

What happened?
What happened?

Shh, shh, shh. What happened?

Hey, what happened?
Who did this?

Huh? Who did this to you?
Dolly.

It's alright.
Did you go to Fitzroy, Doll?

We're gonna start a war
between Long Harry and Stokes.

Three rival gangs
fighting for survival.

Two rival women fighting for love.

Les is my fella.

My Les?
No, MY Les.

And one man wants to rule them all.

Australia's first criminal superstar
is just getting started.

And then we'll take over this town.

New Underbelly: Squizzy.
Next Sunday.

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