Original subtitles

(ominous music)

(garage door rumbling)

(playfully tense music)

(groans)

(coughing)

(gas hissing)

(engine rumbling)

(thudding)

(dog barking)

(hose scraping)

-: Hey there, Crystal Heights it's time to

Both: Pass for cash!

-: Live on Rock FM's Early Arvo Nuthouse

with Wacka and Mozza!

-: Where you can get a chance to be

in the draw for this fabulous Mazda MX-5.

-: Zoom, zoom, Wacka!

And as these people will tell you

the MX-5's the smoothest, sportiest ride

in these big brown-- -: Watch out!

(crashing)

(crowd gasping)

(thudding)

(women screaming)

(thudding) (women groaning)

(upbeat rock music)

(car whooshing)

-: It's alright, we're with Zero Tolerance!

(tire popping) (tires screeching)

(car crashing)

(alarm blaring)

Stay back.

Mike: He's a very cool customer.

-: One move and you're a dead man!

(water splashing) (guns firing)

(dramatic music)

-: I guess this is Zero Tolerance.

-: They've blown it all out of proportion!

-: The corpse of the respected magistrate was riddled

with bullets before a small crowd of horrified shoppers.

-: Doesn't read very well.

-: Can't you see what they're doing?

Respected magistrate.

You take out the word respected.

-: You're still left with corpse, bullets and riddle.

-: And horrified shoppers.

-: You know when the Premier set up

the ZTU the press gave it a year.

They said, this is Melbourne, not New York.

Nine years later we're still here.

In all that time you know how many shots

the 240-odd members of this unit have fired in public?

18 total.

-: Half of those yours?

-: Yesterday you two fired 14 shots,

12 of them into a dead magistrate.

-: You know a lot of talk back at quarters

have said that given the opportunity

they'd have done exactly the same thing.

Doug: They want me to sack you.

-: Oh, come on, Doug!

We're so close on the Ridgeway thing, you gotta understand!

We're like--

-: Coiled springs. -: Coiled springs!

-: I can't have you two working Ridgeway

with this all over the papers.

-: Next week some other magistrate will be cut to pieces

in a freakish chain of unlikely flukes

and all this will be forgotten!

-: Look, I'm sorry, uniform duties, has to be.

-: Great, we're back in short fucking sleeves

because of an accident.

-: Ben, I'm on your side.

If Ted Pratt was here you'd be--

-: Yeah, if Ted Pratt was here.

-: One time Lynn Squires threw out a vital piece of evidence.

Ted put him in a barrel,

pushed him down eight flights of stairs.

-: What, out there?

-: Uh-huh.

-: What was he doing with a barrel in an eight story office?

-: I don't know, he got a barrel.

-: What, from a local coop? -: What?

Listen, short sleeves, just till this blows over.

(playful jazz music)

-: I mean, who keeps a barrel in an office?

Classic bullshit story.

Unless he was using it to store rainwater or something.

Maybe he'd been forced to wear it

into work after losing a big card game.

-: Mate, despite everything, we're not looking

too shabby on the front page.

-: Blow those two blokes off the telly.

You know those two blokes? -: No.

-: You know, ching-chicka-ching,

chicka-ching, chicka-ching, chicka-chow!

Chicka-chicka-ching, chicka-ching,

chicka-ching, chicka-chow-now!

-: What is that?

-: You know, ching-chicka-ching, chicka-ching, chicka-chow!

Chicka-chow-now!

-: That's not anything.

-: You know it! -: You're making that up.

-: Ching-chicka-ching, chicka-ching,

chicka-ching, chicka-chow!

Chicka, chick.

This'll all fucking blow over, I'm telling you.

(splatting)

Kid: Get out of here!

-: For fuck's sake!

(kids yelling)

-: Hey!

Hey, do you know who we are?

(balloons splatting) (kids shouting)

Hey!

-: Alfa bravo this is gray unit!

We're under attack of the mischievous type!

(balloons splatting) (kids shouting)

Kid: Dickheads!

-: Hey! (whistles)

-: All right, I'm getting there.

So why'd this bloke top himself?

-: Found some photos in the car.

-: Oh, yeah?

-: Yeah, let's just say the, uh,

respected magistrate liked to, uh--

-: What?

-: Something of a legal term

that has a sexual double meaning.

-: Perform acts with underage prostitutes?

-: A legal term?

-: Don't know of its exact phrase

of putting psychological tests under ambitions.

Someone behind me, isn't there?

It's the worst possible--

-: Mrs. Poulgrain, I'm Ben Kinnear and this is my--

-: I know who you are.

Come with me.

-: Why didn't you say something?

-: I tried to say something.

-: There's one detail I didn't give to the detectives.

Perhaps you might pass it onto them?

-: Mind if I smoke? -: Got a spare one?

Rodney's work files have all been erased.

-: Couldn't he have just--

-: No, I checked the history.

This happened last night five hours after the accident.

-: Five hours after?

Can I use your phone?

Get a printout of the history, would you?

-: Will do.

-: Yep, tell him I got some new information.

Okay, see ya.

Okie dokie, Mrs. P., leave it with us.

Oh hey, and listen, I just I don't know

how many times I can apologize for--

-: It's alright, Ben.

-: I personally am gonna make this up to you, I promise.

Somehow. (fire roaring)

-: Bit of a problem.

(crashing)

(footsteps running) (playful jazz music)

-: Well, there's a lot of good words in this one.

Bungling dealer, terrifying inferno.

Same two officers, irony lost on widow.

Fucking idiots who must surely now be sacked.

Five hours Ted Pratt goes under the knife.

So far no one's been game to tell him about any of this.

-: Hang on, what about the computer?

-: Oh, you mean the one destroyed in the, uh,

Zero Competence Unit's latest public relations fiasco?

-: Poulgrain's wife, she knows what--

-: Stay away from that woman!

Jesus Christ!

Alright, in here.

Pendlebury and Wicks are handling this

and I've given them the Ridgeway file.

-: Don't you worry, we'll get that prick.

-: You guys have made a fair bit of progress.

I'll be quite happy to put this one to bed.

-: I'll bet you fucking will!

-: Alright, that's enough.

He didn't burn down an entire houseful of evidence.

-: He wouldn't know where to start.

-: You want me to get the barrel?

-: Pendlebury!

I'll be quite happy to put this one to bed!

-: Yeah, well, good luck to him.

-: Ah, fuck him!

We haven't spent 15 months in the back of a van

just so they can swish in and cross the final T.

(banging)

-: We're off the case, mate, just accept it.

(banging)

That's good, that's great.

You're a very well-adjusted man.

Terrific.

-: That really shits me.

Doug's little speech yesterday.

Nine years ago when we all started together, yeah.

I've been here since day dot and up until last week

the fuck ups have been few and far between.

(sighs heavily)

-: When I first joined the force in '94,

you know what one of my first jobs was?

Every week I'd go down to Channel 7 and sort of

mill about behind the host of Australia's Most Wanted.

-: The alleged offender entered the Quick and Go shop--

-: So I walked through shots,

maybe answer a call, sign something.

I was pretty good at it, too.

Did some good work then.

Host: And wearing what appeared

to be a pair of drawn on sunglasses.

After a brief--

Mike: Anyway, one week I got a bit too ambitious.

-: Claimed to possibly have a gun.

Mike: I started to climb the ladder

at the back of the studio.

I'm looking for an old case file or something.

-: A love letter cut out of mauve hues.

If you have any information-- -: Hey, hey, hey, the ladder!

(crashing)

(squeaking)

(all laughing)

(laughs)

-: That was you?

-: Yeah, you see, everyone remembers that.

-: Yeah.

-: No one remember the weeks and weeks

of beautifully unobtrusive background activity

that preceded it.

See what I'm saying? -: Yeah.

We gotta talk to Poulgrain's wife.

-: How?

She's probably fled the country.

-: His funeral's tomorrow.

-: Oh, no.

No, Ben, we can't.

-: We're just gonna talk to her.

What could happen?

(comical jazz music)

-: Have you noticed who's been writing these articles?

-: Oh, yeah.

Doug: Julie Bale.

-: Who's Julie Bale?

Doug: Ben?

-: Let's just say I've never had

a very good relationship with the press, alright?

Doug: That's one way of putting it.

-: Come on, Doug, are we sacked or not?

-: I'm leaving that decision to Ted.

In the meantime, you're not to leave this building.

-: What? -: You're on night desk.

(banging)

(men all shouting)

-: I bet your girlfriend fucking misses me!

What's she doing here?

Officer: Look out, look out!

-: You fucking dorks!

(officers grunting)

Alright, shake it, give it to me you fucking beggar!

(mace spraying)

Hey, it's them two blokes from the paper!

How did you manage it?

One fuck up I can understand, two even, but fucking three?

You fucking losers!

Officer: Come on, Dozer!

-: Fucking night desk.

-: These pens are great, aren't they?

You get the four colors in one.

-: Yeah, but what's the green for?

No one uses green.

It's a passenger.

The other three colors are clearly carrying it.

-: Yeah, but it's a nice problem to have.

So, who's Julie Bale?

-: Oh, would you knock it off?

Mike, do I ask you how you and your wife are getting on?

-: We're getting on very well, thanks very much.

Simone has just introduced me

to the delights of tantric sex.

Really shaking things up in the bedroom.

She's made me see that her orgasm has--

-: Hey, hey, hey!

Keep your orgasms to yourself, would ya?

-: So, who's Julie Bale?

Julie: That'd be me.

-: Oh, what's this then?

All come down to pull a piss, have we?

What?

-: You're gonna like this, Kinnear.

Guess who it turns out's been blackmailing Poulgrain?

Ben: You're joking.

-: We found some fingerprints on an envelope in the car.

(laughs)

-: There is a God.

-: Come on.

-: Oh, no, no, please, allow me.

-: You haven't lost your touch.

-: Fuck me.

How does that work?

-: She's an ex-cop.

Can you believe that?

-: A disgruntled ex-cop.

-: Who was blackmailing a judge?

-: So it appears.

-: And who writes for the Tribune.

That should be worth three years on its own.

(laughs) And she's gonna look hilarious

on tomorrow's front page.

-: Yeah, wait'll they find out she used to fuck your partner.

-: Obviously we'd already have these on file.

-: Just do your job.

-: We're still a pretty good team, you and me.

-: What are you talking about?

-: Well, between the two of us we really

finished off that magistrate. (chuckles)

-: Alright, let her sit it out here tonight.

We'll bag this up tomorrow.

-: Well done, gentlemen.

I'd like to officially retract the contemptuous glare

I was giving you in the corridor this afternoon.

How you going with the Ridgeway thing?

-: We're, uh, reviewing the evidence.

-: Back a bit.

Little to the left.

How about something with a bit more cleavage?

(camera clicking)

(door clanging)

What time would you like breakfast?

-: You know this is bullshit, don't you?

-: No, I don't know what it is.

Julie: I never sent him any photographs.

I sent him a computer disk two weeks ago.

-: Computer disk, what was on it?

-: What, suddenly you're interested?

-: Did you keep a copy?

-: Yeah, right, very clever.

-: How'd you go?

-: Soon as we finish up here we're gonna search her flat.

-: Still got some of your CDs, has she?

-: Yeah, yeah, she does actually.

Not to worry, though, because we have these.

-: Chicka chow.

(door unlocking)

Exactly as you left it?

-: Can we make that the last of those comments?

-: I understand.

(comical jazz music)

Nothing.

Not a sausage.

Not a dick, even.

-: Ooh-wee.

Take that down to forensics.

-: (sighs) Nothing.

No disks, either.

Could be anywhere.

(grunting)

-: Can you reach it?

Mike: Yeah.

(grunting)

Ben: Anything?

-: Yeah, there's something up here.

Bank book, passport.

Hang on.

-: What is it?

-: It's a photo of you and Julie.

-: Mike, you are really fucking pushing it!

-: I'm serious, look!

Easy!

(stumbling)

(easy listening music)

(thudding)

-: What's she playing at?

Mike: Um?

-: Shit, Mike!

-: Probably best to get that ladder over there, Ben.

-: How long have you known that was there?

-: Since we came in.

-: Told me she'd burned all these.

(tense music)

(camera clicking)

-: So how do we know there was a disk?

-: She doesn't lie.

It's one of her irritating quirks.

We were at the academy together.

-: Yeah?

-: Oh, geez, we were like a well-oiled machine.

(dramatic disco music)

(gun firing)

(birds flapping)

(guns firing)

(guns firing)

(thudding)

(fabric tearing)

-: Hang on.

You're embellishing this, aren't you?

-: Well, that's how we saw ourselves.

Then we graduated, got our first taste of real police work.

(dramatic disco music)

(yelling)

(gun firing)

-: Stop that.

What happened?

-: The ZTU, we both got in on the ground floor.

(happy music)

Jules was right into it.

Brand new force, answerable only to itself.

Complete independence from all other law enforcement groups.

And we were there, ground zero.

All bullshit is it, now.

We're just like the rest of them.

Just in a different building.

Of course, there's less people watching you, you know.

Get the odd bit of shonk here and there.

Mike: Sure.

-: Mike, have, have you ever--

-: Beaten a man to death with a spanner?

No.

Oh, have I ever taken a bribe?

No, I haven't.

You know, that's the first time in five years

that you've ever almost asked me that question.

-: Sorry, mate.

Mike: Have you?

-: No.

No, I haven't.

There's been offers.

Next to the police.

-: So why'd Julie--

-: Back in '95 we spent 10 months working

on a case that got shut down.

Mike: What was the case?

-: Remember Tuscan Bob?

-: That twat who wanted to

turn Royal Melbourne hospital into yellow tail houses?

-: (laughs) Yeah.

Shot through the head last April.

-: So, 10 months' work--

Ben: Down the shitter.

-: And you copped it and she walked.

-: Right, it was a fucking hot potato.

You would have done the same.

You would have done exactly the same.

-: Same as you.

-: Same as me.

(somber music)

-: And this is the evidence, one envelope?

-: Well, there were some photographs.

Some pretty French photographs if you get me.

-: Oh, yeah.

Darcy: They've gone up to the ninth floor.

-: That blue? -: Oh, yeah.

-: Darce, you wouldn't happen to have made any copies

of these photographs would you, for archival purposes?

-: No, that would have been acting outside

of regulations, Ben, I'm afraid.

-: Yeah, you're right.

-: I would have expected better from you.

-: Sorry, mate.

Fuck me rigid, he's fair up the clack!

Oh, my God.

Gentlemen.

Three envelopes.

Which one did you send Poulgrain?

-: What are you doing?

-: Trust me.

(Julie laughs)

-: No, no, say it again, this time I'll try not to laugh.

That one.

-: That's the envelope.

These are one to one copies of the photos

and the originals aren't folded.

They don't fit.

This one contained a computer disk.

-: What's this all about?

-: Ask Pendlebury.

In the meantime, you gotta let her go.

-: So do you, my friend.

Ben: She's onto something, Doug.

Just put me and Mike back on the case for a week--

-: Wait, wait, wait, one thing at a time.

Ken, we're releasing Julie Bale.

(soft guitar music)

-: What?

-: Oh, come on!

-: Yeah, alright, did you get a copy of the evidence report?

-: Photocopier's busted.

-: Still? -: Yeah.

Now I have to wander around

the office describing my ass to everyone.

-: There is a copy of the disk.

-: At your flat? -: Two doors up.

-: Two doors up, good.

-: Remember the last time you were at my flat?

(laughs) Liar.

You don't remember showing up one night pissed,

claiming you had something important to tell me

before throwing up on three of my guests?

-: No.

I hope you've cleaned up.

(somber music)

Julie: Oh, my God.

Neighbor: Jules!

-: Are you okay?

-: Yeah.

-: What happened?

-: The whole fucking block just went up.

-: You didn't happen to grab-- -: No.

-: How could they have known?

-: Who's they?

(ominous music)

Julie: Jesus Christ.

Where am I supposed to live?

Ben: There's a spare room at my place.

Julie: Are you familiar with the phrase,

not in a million fucking years?

(keys jingling)

(sighs)

-: Coming in?

-: You here on your own?

Ben: Yeah, my girlfriend's--

-: Imaginary?

-: She's a reporter.

Hasn't spoken to me in five fucking years,

but (laughs) she writes occasionally.

All kinds of nasty shit about me and my colleagues.

-: Yeah, well, your colleagues have razed my house

to the ground so I guess we're even.

-: What do you mean my colleagues?

Julie: I thought you'd burnt all these?

-: Yeah, uh...

-: Remember our system?

234 murders.

-: Nine for every letter of the alphabet.

-: C-4.

(grunting)

D-4.

(grunting)

K-7.

-: Oh, not K-7, I'm--

(grunting) (thudding)

I'm too old for K-7.

-: Remember T-6?

-: Knife strapped to ankle.

-: Knife strapped to each ankle.

-: What was Z-9?

-: I believe in your book it was

one officer gives the other officer a blow job.

-: Yeah!

Mike's not really coming to the party on that one.

Julie: You haven't told him about the system?

-: Joking!

So what do you mean my colleagues

have razed your house to the ground?

-: Who do you think set me up?

Ben: Oh, no.

Save your paranoid theories for the Tribune.

Julie: Do you want to know what was on that disk?

-: What, the disk that no longer exists

in any form whatsoever?

-: Remember when Tuscan Bob got whacked?

-: Yeah.

Wasn't you by any chance, was it?

-: I started investigating his finances and I found a list.

A list of 29 rather large payments.

-: To?

-: Code names.

Code names used by ZTU officers.

-: Bullshit, that could be anybody!

-: What, 29 coincidences?

-: So why'd you send the list to Poulgrain?

-: Rodney was the only person I could trust.

Oh, yeah.

I should have sent it to you so you could immediately file

it in the box marked this isn't happening.

-: Yeah, well, Poulgrain died because of that list.

-: I know that.

-: And his house was burnt to the ground.

-: So I hear.

-: Why haven't these shadowy forces killed you?

Why the elaborate frame-up?

-: Ties up all the loose ends.

Poulgrain case is solved, I'm discredited along

with any other information I might have,

say, hidden in a safe somewhere.

-: (sighs) Listen, I believe you.

-: Then help me.

-: There's no evidence.

What am I supposed to do, go around the office

asking anyone if they've received

any suspiciously large payments lately?

-: So that's it, case closed?

-: There is no fucking case.

-: You are piss weak.

(door closing)

-: I suppose a Z-9's out of the question.

(tense music)

Doug: In here.

-: You let her go?

-: What the fuck are you two playing at?

-: What are we playing at?

-: Didn't you try putting the photographs into the envelope?

-: She's mixed up in this somehow.

-: Listen to yourself.

There's gonna be a full investigation.

You're both suspended.

-: Her fingerprints were on an envelope

in the deceased's car, sir!

-: An envelope she says contained a computer disk.

What was on that disk, Pendlebury?

(gun firing)

(dramatic music)

(gun firing)

(workers chattering)

(tense music)

(door rattling)

-: Russell, come here.

Jesus.

-: He just went nuts!

Reporter: The machines are the brainchild

of Jelong casino boss, Marcus Ridgeway,

and allow for interruption-free gambling.

-: The customer, or VIP, as we like to say,

simply inserts his or her credit card

and bang, you're set for the evening.

-: Oh, Jesus.

Reporter: The Premier was quick to respond.

-: I think it's appalling.

Not the sort of thing that a leader

of a family-first government could ever condone.

Reporter: Is this a new low for Victoria?

-: A new low for the state on the go.

(laughs)

No, obviously not.

-: Mike, are you watching this?

-: Oh, yeah.

-: And the latest on those shootings

at the police department-- -: Hey, it's Doug.

-: Complex building in Colin Street.

One of the dead has been confirmed as Douglas Gillespie,

the acting commander of the controversial--

(dramatic tense music)

-: Hey, Ben, Mike.

-: Where's Wicks?

-: St. Vincent's.

-: Christ, Ken, I'm sorry, mate.

-: Yeah, I smell fuck wits.

-: Ted, you're back!

You look hale and hearty.

Wouldn't you agree, Mike?

-: Well, I can't endorse hale, but hearty, yeah, sure.

-: You know one of the good things about hospital?

-: The way you get to wear those smocks

that don't quite join up at the back so when

you're walking around everyone can see your bottom?

No.

-: You get to catch up on your reading.

-: Those three disasters have been

taken completely out of context!

-: Well, we'll let the stairwell decide that.

(banging barrels)

-: Oh, get fu--

(shouting) (thudding)

(telephone ringing)

(grunting)

-: Don't mention the barrels.

-: What the fuck is going on, Ben?

Ben: What's it look like to you?

-: Well, it looks like Pendlebury's trying

to frame your girlfriend, Doug found out

and Pendlebury went fucking berserk.

-: I've gotta talk to Wicks.

-: It might just be you, I think.

Simone's already taken advantage

of my vulnerable condition and subjected me

to a vigorous carnal workout.

Sadly my own performance was unconscionably poor.

Case of too little, too early, as it were.

-: You know this is all gonna figure on my report.

-: Yeah.

Darcy: It's open and shut.

I don't know what you're looking for.

-: They both had these?

-: The prints match.

-: It says here Pendlebury had two more.

Who carries three guns?

-: He was on a vendetta.

-: A three gun vendetta.

-: He was obsessed with nailing Julie Bale.

But Doug, Doug was onto him.

-: Doug never mentioned anything about a computer disk?

-: No.

-: Why was this in the car?

(sighs)

-: Because it contained the computer disk.

Who was first on the scene?

-: Mr. Wicks signed the report.

-: Photographs.

Why is this report 7401?

Shouldn't the first report be 74 double 0?

Why would you tear out the front page?

(scratching)

Fuck me.

-: So Wicks realized what was on the disk

and left it off the report.

-: Chicka chow.

-: What do you think, Simone?

-: I think you should go to the proper authorities.

-: Seems like the proper authorities

are the ones behind all this.

-: 29 officers, maybe more.

-: Who can we trust?

-: Can you remember any of the code names?

-: Sure, but don't they switch them

around every couple of months?

-: What about the dates of the payments?

-: It was all July '98.

-: Right.

So if we can match the code names

to the officers for the chart.

Geez, it's all a bit fucking tenuous, isn't it?

-: Can you get into the ZTU mainframe?

-: No, whole floor's locked off.

Hang on.

The ventilation system.

-: This is a joke, isn't it?

-: Yeah.

Julie: Who has access?

-: One bloke and he's right up Ted Pratt's ass.

-: Can you talk him around?

-: No.

Although, I reckon Mike would be prepared to give it a go.

Yeah.

-: No.

-: No, what?

-: We're not having sex tonight.

-: Yeah, okay.

-: Hello, Northey.

Northey: Hello, Mike.

-: Fancy coming for a little ride?

-: Foot!

Oh, my God! -: Sorry.

(grunting)

-: Now, Northey.

Shut it! -: Sorry!

It's your fucking crime lock.

-: Just a nice slow menacing crawl around the block

if you wouldn't mind, Benjamin?

Now, Northey, I assume you've heard

about Detective Pendlebury's little limited hours rampage

on the eighth floor yesterday?

-: Mm-hmm.

-: Well, it seems that Pendlebury was just the tip

of an iceberg, a very corrupt iceberg.

-: Right.

-: And the Tribune's gonna blow it wide open.

-: The iceberg?

-: Yes, good, now you're getting it.

Time to choose sides, Northey.

You're either with the good guys or the bad guys.

Anyone sitting on the fence

is gonna get smeared with a very--

-: Long?

-: Long brush, yes, a very long brush.

The ridge's right up-- -: Whoopsie!

-: Smears the-- -: (laughs) Speed bump!

-: Ridge's right up smears the fence-sitter

with some pretty guilty tar, my friend.

-: What's he talking about?

-: It's gonna be a massacre, Northey!

Half of ZTU's going down and as the bloke

who handles the records, frankly, you smell bad!

-: I just process information.

-: He's on the bugle!

-: What do you want?

-: Just a little bit of information, that's all.

One little bit of information and you're with the good guys.

-: Oh, you're the good guys.

-: We're with the good guys, yes!

-: Well, you're stuffed.

I can't get you any information.

Not without authorization.

-: Why, is there some bloke looking

over your shoulder all day, is there?

-: Yes, there actually is.

He sits next to me, from when

I start work until when I finish.

He watches everything I do.

I can't even turn the thing on without him.

The database is an old 70s system

that no one's compatible with anymore.

The room's completely sealed off.

There's no online, you can't hack in.

And we're watched constantly

by security guards stationed outside the room.

And no one can get onto the 10th floor without clearance.

(tense music)

Bartlett: Goodnight, gentlemen.

Northey: Goodnight.

After hours the guard's still there.

The room's locked and the camera's on.

-: Did I mention the very long brush?

(Ben sighs) (tires screeching)

-: Listen!

Doug Gillespie, the only decent bloke

in the whole fucking ZTU was shot dead yesterday

and we could be next!

Now, how long have you been working

in that fucking rabbit hole? -: Six years, 11 months.

-: And you never once, just for your own amusement,

nutted out a way around the system?

-: Well, actually.

I've always wondered whether it could be done.

-: Bingo!

(suspenseful music)

(cup splatting) -: Oh, sorry!

-: What the hell, Northey!

-: Take your pants off.

Take them off and I'll go and dry them.

-: Jesus!

-: I'll just, oh, sorry.

Col: It's everywhere!

Shit!

-: Looks like a power unit's down.

Yep.

-: Yeah, that's fine.

That'll be okay, that's good.

See ya, Col.

As long as it's sealed off.

Yep, fine.

Okay, gotta go.

Hey, just a second.

What's this?

-: Unit's out.

I've gotta get it down to maintenance.

-: Yeah, well, I don't know about that.

I mean, uh, what's in it?

-: Nothing.

It's just a power unit.

-: Uh, yeah, well just hang on a minute.

Uh...

Look, I'll tell you what,

you wait here and I'll take it down.

For crying out loud.

Couldn't bring it down during the day, oh, no.

Bring it down after hours, didn't you?

(sighs)

I'm sealing off the floor.

-: Whatever you have to do. -: Yeah.

(suspenseful music)

-: He's coming down.

-: Gotcha.

(woman on TV moaning)

(men laughing and chattering)

-: Mikey, this stuff is off.

Is that really her that does the Keno numbers?

-: Indeed it is, Jones.

-: It is her, it is her!

-: And that, gentlemen, is a gold Logie.

-: Oh, are you serious?

-: Confiscated anything else lately?

-: Remember the early episodes of Playschool?

-: Not the one with?

-: Gentlemen, prepare to go through the round window.

-: Yes! (men cheering)

(men cheering)

(hard rock music)

-: Bartlett.

-: Hey, Mike.

Got ya down here now, have they?

-: Yeah, you know how it is.

You shoot one dead magistrate.

-: Northey wanted this brought down.

-: Ah, wise decision, Mr. Northey.

Fickle beasts, the old XL9000s.

Best you separate it from the herd, first sign of trouble.

-: Yeah, good.

-: I'll get this straight up on the blocks.

-: Whatever.

-: You seen these pens?

Fantastic, you got four colors in one.

-: Mike, Mike, I've gotta get going.

-: Well, you should get yourself one.

On his way up.

-: All clear?

-: See you tomorrow.

-: You know what to do?

-: Yes.

This gonna work?

-: It's gonna have to.

(light music)

-: 52, 48, one, two, one, four.

-: One hour.

-: Five, two, four, eight, one, two, one, four, one, three.

-: Nervous, Northey? -: Shh!

We shouldn't be seen together!

Mike: Well, we're not together, are we?

I'm reading the paper.

You're pouring a kilo of sugar into your tea.

-: Oh, shit!

-: Why are you helping us, Northey?

-: Doug Gillespie was a friend of mine.

And I much preferred him when he was alive.

-: Let's do it, ladies.

(hard rock music)

Bartlett: What are you doing?

-: Oh, it's fixed.

I should get it hooked back up or else the whole--

-: Hey, hey, you're not going back in there, no way!

-: Well, I can't just leave it.

Look, this is my responsibility.

You couldn't just put it inside the door, could you?

(sighs)

-: This is way out of line.

Northey: I know, I'm sorry.

-: Just give me the bloody thing.

(television chattering)

Look out. -: Oh, sorry, sorry!

-: And back to the million dollar question.

The show where ordinary Australians

can win up to 20,000 dollars.

Now Jenny, you've already got the--

-: Just remember, this never happened.

TV Host: No one can take that away--

-: Is this the semi-finals?

-: Yeah, this chick's shit-ass.

TV Host: All six of your lifeline's

on just two questions.

(clattering)

-: Five, two, four, eight, one, two, one, four, one, three.

-: Alright Jenny, here we go, for $480 dollars.

Which one doesn't belong?

Naturopath?

Homeopath?

Osteopath, sociopath?

-: Oh well, time to go.

Sociopath!

-: What?

TV Host: Take your time, Jenny.

-: It's sociopath.

TV Host: For $480 dollars.

-: No, no, it's osteopath.

That's your back, isn't it?

-: No, no, no, don't you see?

All the others are healthcare professionals.

I mean, you don't go to a sociopath

for a medical problem, do you?

(laughs)

Hi, I've got an inflamed pancreas.

Oh, well, why don't I try undermining it

with a vindictive pattern of antisocial behavior?

-: Time to go home, Mr. Northey.

-: Mmm.

TV Host: There can only be one correct answer.

-: Sorry. (laughs)

Semi-finals.

-: Right.

TV Host: $480 dollars, imagine what

you could do with that cash bounty.

Ben: July '98.

(computer beeping)

TV Host: Jenny, are you feeling nervous?

Bartlett: What the hell's going on, Mike?

-: Where's are fucking units?

You can't leave it in there.

It hasn't been reset!

There'll be a power surge.

You'll wipe everything.

It's a fucking time bomb!

-: It's not connected!

-: You're joking?

-: No, I'm not.

-: Jesus Christ, Bartlett.

Yeah, we got a rogue unit up here.

Yeah, a fucking wild card.

I'm encountering some resistance, Ted, yes.

-: Oh, shit!

-: Right, he's on his toes.

Yep, he's moving.

Okay.

Yep, he's back.

He's back, okay.

-: Just take the bloody thing, will you?

-: Swift work, Bartlett.

Could be a commendation in this for you.

-: Terrific.

Mike: Think about that pen, yeah?

(sighs heavily)

TV Host: I'll be honest with you.

We've had a lot of calls suggesting that up

to this point your performance has been, what was it?

Idiotic, that's it.

-: Oh, don't!

Mikey!

-: Jules?

What the fuck is this?

-: Ted?

-: This better be good.

-: Oh, it's very good.

(dramatic music)

Ted: What's that?

-: That is classified information.

These two were about to destroy it.

-: Get fucked!

Ted: Take it away.

Ben: Oh yeah, that's the last we'll see of that.

-: What does that mean?

-: He knows full fucking well what's on there.

Ted: What's he talking about?

-: Why don't we just open the file?

-: What's she doing here? -: Yeah, just open it!

What, no question for me? -: Shut the fuck up!

What's this?

Ben: Give us a name.

-: Rick Astley.

-: Astley, Astley.

Holy shit!

Ted: Paddock.

-: Nick Kershaw.

Ted: Pendlebury.

Julie: Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy.

Ted: Kinnear.

-: I was never Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy!

-: These are the names of officers

who accepted up to 29 highly questionable payments

from one Tuscan Bob Kalanga

in July of 1998. -: Unbe-fucking--

Wicks: They wanted to destroy this disk just as

they destroyed the disk they found in Poulgrain's car.

They burnt his house down to get rid

of any other copies, they admit that.

Ben: Hang on a second.

-: Oh, and they also burned down Miss Bale's

entire block of flats just to make sure.

-: But, Ben was with me.

-: Yeah, but where was Paddock?

That'd be him there, wouldn't it?

-: But how did they--

Wicks: Check your sunglasses, they're bugged.

-: This is bullshit!

Wicks: We found the receiving unit in Paddock's car.

What, did you think she'd never find out?

-: You killed Doug. -: No, I didn't!

If I'd been three seconds faster, I could have saved him.

(punching) (thudding)

-: You can't allow that to happen.

(punching) (thudding)

-: This goes way beyond piss weak.

Ted: Just get her out of here!

-: Come on.

-: Someone's in the shit and it's not me.

(tense music)

-: Did you make your one phone call?

Mike: Yeah.

Ben: Who'd you call?

-: J.D. Salinger.

I thought if you only get the one call, you know?

I told Simone to go and stay with her folks in Perth

and not to believe anything she reads in the papers.

Christ!

How did you become the face of corruption?

(laughs)

-: A pathological deceiver who had even this reporter fooled.

Looks like you're in the tin, Kinnear.

-: So what are you gonna do?

-: I'm going to do what Doug should have done a week ago.

I'm giving you both the official ax.

-: Buying all this, are you, Ted?

-: I don't have to, that's why we have Royal Commissions.

Oh yeah, that's how this will be sorted out.

Mr. Wicks has come up with some very compelling evidence.

-: Yeah, well, with all due respect, sir,

Mr. Wicks is a fucking liar.

-: With no due respect, Kinnear,

get out of my fucking office.

-: Oh, I'm just fucking invisible, am I?

(laughs)

(tense music)

(knocking)

Wicks: Yeah, it's him.

Turn it up.

Ben: Can't into it now, Mike, TV crews everywhere.

-: Fucking nightmare, eh?

Come on.

We need to talk.

You wanna step into the conservatory?

Grab yourself a seat, mate.

-: Let's do it.

-: No, wait.

I wanna hear this.

Mike: How about something to drink?

-: Oh, yeah.

Yeah, what have you got?

-: What about the '98?

Ben: Ah, the '98, that's supposed to be a beauty.

Yeah, no, we can go the knacker on that,

really do some damage.

Mike: Yeah, it's a good drop.

Ben: Oh, yeah.

-: Come on.

-: No, wait!

They're not going anywhere.

-: So, did you call Julie?

-: Oh, yeah.

-: What happened?

Ben: The machine told me to fuck off.

Mike: Ooh, that's delegating.

Ben: Yeah.

Hey, it is a nice drop this, isn't it, the '98?

-: Yeah, it's a cracker.

(tense music)

What do you reckon Wicks' next move will be?

-: Don't know if he needs one, does he?

He stitched us right up.

This inquiry's gonna be a joke.

-: Do you know what I can't work out?

Why did they just let us go?

Ben: Yeah, probably 'cause

they're planning to have us killed.

(exploding)

-: Drinks are on me.

(engine revving)

(ominous music)

Mike: Fucking pricks!

-: Oi!

Mike, don't.

-: No, they're fucking bang out of order, Ben!

-: I know, Mike, listen.

-: They're not fucking getting away with this!

Shit!

Fuck it!

(tires screeching)

(rattling)

(metal screeching)

-: Uh, Mike, I think you might be

hugging the curb just a tad, mate.

(dramatic music)

Stop the car, big fella.

-: Blown my fucking house up, Ben, fuck that!

-: Left!

(metal screeching)

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Oh ♪

-: Fucking Wicks!

We could have been in there!

Simone could have been in there!

What the fuck are you doing?

-: It's faster on foot!

-: Get back in the fucking car!

Give us a hand with this, will ya?

(rattling)

(glass shattering) (tires screeching)

(engine revving)

-: Oi!

-: Shit!

(crashing)

(steam hissing)

(thudding)

Both: Chicka chow. (groaning)

(steam hissing)

(chuckling)

-: Was that the most incompetent piece of driving

in the history of high-speed pursuits or what?

-: I think so.

Hey, there's an upside.

Mike: Which is?

Ben: We're still alive but they don't know that.

-: Pull over!

Ben: For fuck's sake!

Wicks: Get out.

-: I'm not very happy, Mr. Wicks.

I was hoping they'd be a bit more dead.

-: Ted, of course.

I knew this was all far too elaborate

for Wicks' tiny little brain.

-: Shut the fuck up, Kinnear!

Everything was going fine till you put your head in!

But the fun's over for you two fuck knuckles because--

(train rumbling)

Where was I?

-: Fuck knuckles.

-: Right, put 'em in the van, shoot 'em in the head!

-: Come on.

Move it!

(gun firing) (bullets pinging)

Northey: Careful everyone, I'm a very bad shot.

Put them down.

Come on, you two.

-: That's actually my car, Northey.

If you're gonna fire warning shots--

-: I must say I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Northey.

Northey: Well, I'm very disappointed

in you, too, Mr. Pratt.

-: What are you gonna do, call the police?

(gun firing) (tire hissing)

(engine revving)

-: Let's go!

(gears grinding)

Mike: Sorry, boys.

-: Won't be a moment.

-: It's a very small town, put the word out.

I'll take dead, alive or anything in between.

-: You saved our asses back there, Northey.

Where'd you get the shooter?

-: It's my father's.

-: Yeah?

Aren't they illegal now?

-: Oh, it's for sporting purposes.

-: Right.

Remind me again, what sport is

it that uses a semi-automatic?

-: Golf.

He's a very aggressive golfer.

-: Of course.

(comical music)

Julie: This is Julie Bale, please leave a message.

If that's you, Ben, you can get fucked!

(Julie yelling)

-: Jules, it's me.

I know what you think about me.

I've read the PM edition.

Look, you don't have to believe any of this,

but Ted Pratt just tried to have us killed.

Out at Mike's house, it's just a fucking litterbox.

Pratt's the one behind all of this.

Poulgrain must have called him, told him about the disk.

You were right all along, the whole ZTU's

just a pile of shit.

By the way, that photo you found at my house,

I stole it from your flat.

It's the one thing I did do, I don't know why.

Just 'cause (voicemail beeping) fuck!

(banging)

What?

Right, Ted Pratt has the combined resources

and firepower of the entire ZTU.

What have we got?

-: Well, Northey's dad's arsenal consists

of a blunderbuss, this replica pistol and what appears

to be a genuine World War II grenade.

(laughing bitterly)

He's gone all floppy, that's not good.

-: Hang on.

I know who can help us.

-: Ben!

-: The article in the Tribune is all bullshit.

-: I don't read that paper.

-: Cigarette?

-: Thanks!

(pack flapping) -: Right.

(thudding)

Both: Ow!

-: So if your husband hadn't called Ted Pratt,

none of this would have happened.

-: This is beyond comprehension.

You know, Ted came here two days ago to pay his condolences.

He spoke beautifully about Rodney.

-: What was it he said last night?

-: Put 'em in the van, shoot 'em in the head.

-: Give me the phone.

-: Eleanor Poulgrain on four.

-: Eleanor?

-: I thought I should call you right away.

I was cleaning out Rodney's office

and I came across another copy of that disk.

-: What?

-: And some files, um, something on, uh, Bob--

-: Kalanga. -: Kalanga.

It was some sort of financial transactions.

-: Oh Jesus, look, just stay where you are.

-: I'll tell you what.

I'll give them to the two officers.

-: What two officers?

-: They say they're with you.

-: Oh, for Christ's sake, don't give them,

don't give them anything! -: What?

(yelling and screaming)

Oh, no!

(glass shattering)

(phone beeping)

-: Eleanor?

Eleanor?

(laughs and clapping)

(groaning)

-: I'm sorry, Ted.

There were two of them.

-: We'll get them.

These files, did you examine them?

-: They were just, uh, some gobbledygook

about payments or some such.

You were mentioned, Mr. Wicks.

-: Right, it's on.

Ben: You were right all along.

The whole ZTU's just a pile of shit.

By the way, that photo you found at my house,

I stole it from your flat.

It's the one thing I did do.

I don't know why, just 'cause-- (machine beeping)

(yelling and banging)

(door buzzing)

-: Miss Bale, I was wondering if

you wouldn't mind accompanying us downtown,

just a few more questions?

(ominous music)

It's him.

Ben: Ted?

-: Yeah, I'm listening.

-: We're sitting on some pretty

interesting files up here, Ted.

Yes, (laughs) no code names this time.

It's all there in black and white.

So unless you want to--

-: We've got your girlfriend.

-: What?

-: By girlfriend, he means me.

-: Shit!

-: You can't win, Kinnear.

I want those files by tonight or,

well, you know how this works, mate.

Call me on the mobile.

You'll be feeling a bit foolish right now, huh?

-: That should be your face.

(smirks)

Actually I don't think we've got enough red ink.

(Ted laughs)

-: It just keeps getting worse and worse!

-: At least Jules believes me now.

-: Oh yeah, that's a bonus.

Slightly outweighed, don't you think,

by the fact that we are totally fucked!

-: He's giving us till tonight.

-: Tonight when we what, Ben?

Exchange Julie for some files that don't exist?

Even if they did exist Ted isn't gonna let us go!

He's not gonna let Julie go!

By this time tomorrow we'll be nothing more than

a future challenge for the department of dental records!

-: Who has authority over Ted Pratt?

-: Well, there's fucking Satan, for one.

-: Chicka chow!

-: That's out of order, Northey.

That's my thing, you don't do the chicka chows.

(tense music)

(crowd chattering)

-: Now, this is the main entrance to the vestibule

and I should point out that what you're about to see

is one of the finest vestibules in the state of Victoria.

The vestibule was completed in 1879

and again three years later after a series

of embarrassing spelling mistakes were discovered--

-: Yes?

-: Here to see the Premier, ZTU.

Guard: Search them.

-: What are you doing?

-: I know who you are.

You're the two most bent coppers in Victoria.

Guard: They're clean, boss.

-: Very fragrant yourselves, gentlemen.

(men chattering)

Ben: Listen, you don't understand,

this is a matter of life and death.

-: Out!

-: Surrounding the coat of arms is a more--

-: What's all this?

It's Kinnear, isn't it?

Ben: Detective Kinnear.

-: One of the ZTU originals. -: That's right.

Nine years ago you shook our hands and wished us luck.

Now we need five minutes of your time.

(crowd chattering)

-: Douglas.

This is about Pratt, isn't it?

-: Partly, yeah.

-: Kristen.

-: Marcus called, he's running late.

-: Fine.

You two take a seat.

I've just got one call to make.

(Mike laughs)

-: Check this out.

It's an extraordinary likeness.

That's gonna stick.

(laughs) You're a bad egg.

What are you doing?

Premier: They're both sitting outside my office.

How soon can you get here?

Ted: Five minutes.

-: That's Ted!

-: Now, listen, there might-- -: Shit, come on!

Ted: Be another copy of this disk.

Premier: Another copy, really?

And how long were you gonna wait before telling me this?

Ted: It's under control.

Premier: How is it under control?

Ted: We've got Kinnear's girlfriend.

Premier: Christ, what's in this file?

Ted: Names, amounts, everything.

Kalanga must be covering his ass.

Probably gonna blackmail us if we don't pop him first.

(dramatic music)

-: Yeah, well, this is a fucking mess, Ted!

I tell everybody no paper records!

Now I want those files destroyed and I want those two

and the girl out of the picture for good.

Are you there?

(door opening)

Ted'll be here in five minutes.

-: This has all been you, hasn't it?

-: I don't know what you're talking about.

Ben: (laughs) What, the ZTU's just

your own private little police force, is it?

-: Sorry, shouldn't you at least be trying to escape?

-: You're coming with us.

-: And you're threatening me with what?

Your disheveled appearance?

Oh, the letter opener?

Are you gonna hold that to my back

and walk me past my entire staff and the security guard?

-: Hey, catch this.

Don't try and put it down.

It's a very, very unstable hand grenade.

You will actually grip only for a second it's gonna explode.

Do you understand?

-: What, killing all of us?

Good plan.

-: Listen, you smarmy shit, we try and leave

this office without you, we're dead.

You know that.

That's why the three of us are gonna take a walk right now.

Down at the car park, nice and calm.

And if you say anything or try to get anyone's attention,

I'm just gonna push you over and that will be that.

One other thing.

You ever refer to Victoria as a state on the go,

or use the phrase family-first government ever again,

I'm gonna stick this through your fucking face, okay?

-: Mm-hmm.

Kristen, we're just popping out for five minutes.

(tense jazz music)

(crowd chattering)

(siren blaring) (tires screeching)

-: Oh, Lionel, looks like I almost missed you.

-: Oh, Marcus.

-: Everything alright?

-: Yes, yes, fine.

-: Look, I've got...

Sorry, do I know you two?

-: Yeah, we're with Ted Pratt.

-: Christ, for a second there

I thought you were under arrest.

(all laughing)

Listen, mate, Ted called, said there

was something going down?

-: Yeah, we can talk about that later, I think.

-: No, no, we're in no hurry.

-: He said to hand these over to you in person.

I said I'd just shred them,

but he said no, give them to you.

-: Yeah, put them on the desk, I think.

Where's that lift?

-: I'll take 'em, hold them for you.

-: Oh, thank you.

-: Premier's got his hands full at the moment.

(elevator dinging)

Good of you.

-: Thank you very much, Marcus.

-: Thanks, Marcus.

-: Yeah, go on, Marcus.

-: We'll take care of these, mate.

They'll be well taken care of.

(dramatic music)

-: Premier.

-: Oh, Ted.

-: Not now, Marcus!

-: I gave those files to Lionel and your two mates.

-: You what?

(tense music)

-: Gimme that.

You wanna actually fold a bit?

-: What?

-: Ted, must have just missed you.

-: You fucked up, Kinnear!

Once they find out you're with the Premier,

every cop in the state will be after you.

-: I'd keep this between us, Ted.

We're building up quite a database at this end.

Ted: What do you want?

-: We give you Cray, you give us Julie.

We give you the files.

-: Where?

-: (laughs) Oh, no, Ted!

I'm not letting you set up a turkey shoot.

We'll tell you where in one hour.

Just get yourself, Julie and Wicks

into a car and wait for our call.

Oh, I want Julie in a vest and helmet.

-: What's that about?

-: Oh, don't want you shooting her

in the back now, do we, Ted?

-: Fine, I want the same for the Premier.

-: Ugh, now that's just insulting.

-: Oh, that's right, you only shoot dead people.

-: $250 grand.

Ted: What?

-: That's what Ridgeway paid you as a Christmas bonus.

Did I get that right, Ted?

-: One fucking hour, Kinnear.

I'll be waiting.

-: Ah!

I never get to hang up on him.

-: A little drinkie for the Premier?

You're not still upset about that grenade thing, are you?

If it's any consolation, my entire house

was blown up last night.

I've lost my job, my car, my reputation.

My rich and varied sex life

has been put on hold indefinitely.

-: Weren't you the guy on Australia's Most Wanted?

-: Yeah.

Yeah, I'll always have that.

-: Northey's found us a van.

-: We're gonna die.

You know that, don't you?

-: There's one person who can save us.

-: Who is it, Batman?

-: It's a she.

Jules! -: Oh, Julie!

(dramatic music)

-: You've got it?

-: What does he see in you?

-: I'd take you in the back and show you,

but there doesn't seem to be enough room.

(cell phone ringing)

-: Kinnear?

Ben: What are you driving, Ted?

-: A silver bloody van!

-: Get onto the Calder.

(dramatic music)

What do you reckon?

Mike: I don't see any snipers.

(dramatic music)

(cell phone ringing)

-: Yeah?

-: Left at the third road.

You'll find us.

Places, gentlemen.

-: It's not too late, you know.

You could just run like fuck.

-: Yeah, but, what about the very long brush?

-: Over there.

(cell phone ringing)

-: Yeah?

-: What's in the van, Ted?

-: Just the bloody three of us.

Ben: That's close enough.

(dramatic music)

-: Now what?

-: Set 'em up, send 'em over.

-: Just give us a minute.

Alright, gentlemen.

(guns clicking)

(cell phone ringing)

-: Yes?

-: As soon as we get the Premier blast the shit out of them.

-: Yes, Mr. Bin Laden.

-: I thought you'd have dropped

all the smartass bullshit by now.

'Cause in about 90 seconds you and your boyfriend

will be blown into the shithouse.

In half an hour you'll be a chalk outline

and I'll be back at the office ah-ha'ing over

this whole sorry fucking episode.

-: And in 40 minutes blowing the Premier?

Hey, I'm a chalk outline, what do you care?

-: Any last words?

-: Plum jam.

-: What?

-: Mr. Premier, in spite of everything,

you've still got my vote and my family's vote.

-: Fuck you.

-: You get that?

Northey: Certainly did.

-: Hang on.

Don't want you looking stupid.

I thought you'd be tired of that, nice.

-: Alright, Ted.

Let's do it.

(dramatic stand-off music)

-: Goodbye, Kinnear.

-: Ah, shit, no!

-: You see that, Ted?

Now, tell Wicks to drop his gun.

Mike's a much better shot than Northey, Ted.

-: Hey!

-: And tell the 10, is it 10, Ted?

-: 12.

-: Tell the 12 blokes in the van to do likewise.

-: Drop 'em.

(guns clattering)

-: And, you know, I'm guessing here,

but, I suppose there's some kind

of bazooka in the back of that van?

-: Howie!

(thudding)

-: Now, if you could grab the keys

and go to the door of the van, Ted?

And lock it if you could.

Mr. Northey, have you done what I said?

-: Yep.

-: What's he done?

-: He's called the police.

(handcuffs clicking)

This has got to be worth it, we were wrong.

-: Wicks, G3.

(dramatic music)

(thudding)

-: Anyone for plum jam?

(groaning)

(upbeat rock music)

(helicopter whirring)

Northey: Hey, we're not walking

all the way back to town, are we?

Ben: No, probably shouldn't.

Northey: I'm gonna take that van, then.

Ben: I've already got a stitch.

Northey: Yeah.

Julie: Why weren't we on that helicopter?

(Ben laughs)

Mike: Nice work, scarecrow.

Nice work, tin man.

Northey: Yeah, gee, thanks.

Reporter: An extraordinary nine years

of corruption uncovered by officers Kinnear and Paddock--

-: Police commissioner praised

the efforts of reporter Julie Bale--

Reporter: Everyone's talking about yesterday's

extraordinary events captured on video.

Reporter: The files confirm a highly illegal relationship

between the Premier--

Reporter: As a result, casino boss, Marcus Ridgeway

was this morning charged with a range of--

-: Up to 40 ZTU officers including Pratt himself.

Reporter: Detective Wicks will be charged

with the murders of Douglas Gillespie--

Reporter: But a taped conversation between Pratt

and the Premier implicates--

Reporter: Officer Northey, whose heroism has already

earned him a six figure book deal--

Reporter: Mike Paddock, seen here in a famous 1994--

Reporter: But Victorians will long remember

this image of their disgraced Premier.

-: Fuck you!

Reporter: Acting Premier Reg Lamille

this afternoon announced that the Zero Tolerance Unit

will be closed down and its remaining

officers integrated into the--

Both: Chicka chow.

-: Cheers, Mike.

-: Cheers, Ben.

-: Come here.

Champion.

-: Do you want me to leave?

-: If you wouldn't mind.

Almost quarter past.

-: How am I looking?

-: The face of seduction.

(all laughing)

Shall we?

-: Please, could you?

(knocking)

It's open.

(audience clapping on stereo)

("Where Or When" by Frank Sinatra)

♪ It seems we stood and talked like this, before ♪

♪ We looked at each other in the same way then ♪

♪ Can't remember where or when ♪

(gargling)

♪ The clothes you're wearing are the clothes you wore ♪

♪ The smile you are smiling you were smiling then ♪

♪ Can't remember where or when ♪

(gasping)

(ice tinkling)

♪ Some things that happened for the first time ♪

♪ Seem to be happening again ♪

♪ And so it seems that we have met before ♪

♪ And then we laughed before ♪

♪ Also loved before ♪

♪ But who knows where or when ♪

(glasses shattering)

(whooshing)

♪ Some things that happened for the first time ♪

♪ Seem to be happening again ♪

♪ And so it seems that we have met before ♪

♪ And then we laughed before ♪

♪ And then we loved before ♪

♪ But who knows ♪

♪ Who knows where ♪

♪ Where or when ♪

(audience clapping)

("I'm Gonna Release Your Soul" by Dave Graney)

♪ I'm gonna do the right thing, as soon as I see what it is ♪

♪ In the meantime, I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Girl's at home lying with her man, he's trying to sleep ♪

♪ Dreaming of you ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ You park the car, I'll get the bags ♪

♪ I'll get the clerk, oh yeah, oh yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Ooh, yeah, ooh, yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Gonna be midnight black, gonna be soft moving hard ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Take a trip beside the world ♪

♪ Breakers rush the shingle shore ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Everything's gonna be just fine ♪

♪ I'm gonna be over you ♪

♪ Oh yeah, oh yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Ooh yeah, ooh yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Ooh ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna watch you, girl ♪

♪ I'm gonna watch you good ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ Yeah, I'm gonna watch you, girl ♪

♪ Yeah, I'm gonna watch you, girl ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Oh yeah, oh yeah ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Yeah, gonna fill you full of sunshine, baby ♪

♪ Oh, baby ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Oh yeah ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Oh yeah ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ I'm gonna release your soul ♪

♪ Ooh ♪

Man: Let's go!