Jack Irish: Black Tide Page #5

I didn't look for it.

It just happened.

And it's, uh... it's over now.

Seem empty and...

But I'm feeling

a bit soiled and stupid.

So I collected my things. Um...

I don't know

if you'll ever want to see me again.

You could let me know about that.

Or not.

Why did it have to be

the bloody Pringle?

Look, I know I screwed up,

but admit it -

you couldn't wait to bundle me off

to Sydney to be a media star...

Yeah, right - I bundled you off.

If you'd just made me feel

like you wanted me to stay.

Course I wanted you to stay.

Why didn't you say it?

And if I'd said something,

you wouldn't have gone?

Of course I would have gone.

It was a huge career opportunity.

But I wouldn't have

screwed the Pringle.

Look, it always felt

like you were still married

and I was some guilty affair.

Well I guess you'd know

all about that, wouldn't you?

VOICEMAIL:
You've called Jack Irish.

Leave a message.

(Bleep!)

DES:
Jack, it's, uh,

it's Des Connors, mate.

Look, they've found Gary's car.

They pulled it out of the water

near Phillip Island.

Uh, I always knew

he'd come to a sticky, that lad.

Someone's selling,

but I'm not buying, Des.

If they never found a body,

car could have been stolen, dumped.

Ah, I wasn't much of a dad,

but I could never find

anything of me in him.

Not like you and Bill.

People have been saying that to me

all my life.

Truth is,

I have no idea who my old man was.

Ah, I suppose I should

be the grieving parent, Jack,

but I just can't find it in me.

All I can think of

is I've done all me dough

and now I look like

losing this old house.

You're staying in this house, Des.

You'll be leaving feet first,

only after you've got

your telegram from the Queen, OK?

Ah, Bill Irish's boy.

Thank you, son. Thank you.

Yep.

Of course, Monet was famous

for his water lilies.

Well, hello there.

Mm! My learned friend.

Are you expecting more muscle?

Uh, no, lighting fires.

Mm.

Essentially a male preserve.

Yes, and we'd like to hang onto it.

Not many preserves left.

Good. Off you go.

I have to confess

to vaguely false pretences.

Really?

Mm.

I haven't remembered

anything at all useful.

Oh! That's a bit bloody cheeky,

isn't it?

You think you can just get away with

wasting a high-powered

suburban solicitor's time like that?

Here.

Sh*t!

Oh, no!

I've spilt your fancy wine.

That's alright.

It's not that fancy.

They do say to let it breathe,

anyway, don't they?

Yeah, they do.

You know, I enquired about you.

Did you now?

Mm-hm.

You were described

as a person of dubious reputation.

Oh. Really?

Mm-hm. That's what they say.

You can't argue with 'they',

can you?

They seem to know everything.

Did you enquire about me?

I come from a simpler time, Lyall,

before Google.

That's quite a collection of things

you've got there.

They were gifts, from Stuart.

The tackier the souvenir,

the better.

Been to some pretty exotic places.

New York, Istanbul, Phillip Island.

(Chuckles) I know.

Every trip a new one would bob up.

It was our thing.

He was quite the romantic.

Oh, right. So, a bit more than just

housemates with benefits, then?

Mm. He asked me to marry him once.

Aha.

I didn't take him seriously.

I thought it was just

the orgasm speaking.

I actually laughed.

Oh.

I wish I hadn't laughed.

Ah, well, it'll be alright.

Maybe one day.

No. No, he's gone.

So tell me about the Irish women.

Well...

Mm?

..until recently

I was a bit of a Trappist monk.

Oh, really?

Yeah.

So you've renounced

your vow of chastity?

Yeah, I thought it was for the best.

Phone, or I'll stalk you.

Bye.

SIMONE:
Jack!

One mention of Black Tide.

Senate. Three years ago. Mysterious.

I'm double parked.

You know, one day we should have

a proper conversation

with adjectives and things.

'Mysterious' is an adjective.

I see you're all dressed up,

Danish Blue. A lunch date, perhaps?

Divorced, two kids. Him, not me.

You don't think too velvety?

No such thing.

Great.

So, Drew, my friend,

have a listen to this

from Senator Backbench Nobody.

SENATOR:
(Recording) Can the

Honourable Senator confirm

that recently

a Federal Police Taskforce operation

called Black Tide

was closed down under pressure from

the highest level of government?

Now, do you want to hear

Hansard's verbatim record of that?

Oh, it's like you just read my mind.

(Reads)

'Can the Honourable Senator confirm

that recently

an important Federal Police operation

was cancelled on financial grounds?'

Seems Black Tide's missing.

They've changed Hansard, Drew.

Hansard.

The Attorney-General

got the liquid paper out.

Yeah, well if they

can change Hansard,

they've got

some pretty serious pull.

You want my advice, Jack?

Write the old man a cheque

for 60 grand.

Yeah, you're right.

Can I borrow 60 grand?

RACE CALLER:
And here's Bold Chino

rocketing down the outside.

Bold Chino moved up, took the lead.

And Bold Chino races home to win it.

Ricky Kirsch has got these horses

going around on a bloody carousel.

Same thing at Werribee.

..just in front of the well back,

Vision Divine.

Isn't that Dougie Armit's widow?

Yeah, the woman can't bear being

vertical for more than ten minutes.

Harry.

Good to see you working your way

through the seven stages

of grieving, Mrs Armit.

Suck on it, Harry.

How much do you reckon Mr Kirsch

can make from a scam like this?

We got the tote figures.

80 Kirsch wins.

Mostly Queensland.

It's millions, Jack.

I can live with people

offering the hoops a quid.

But killing and maiming them's

something else.

That banana bender's gotta go home.

Why are you looking at me?

Well, I mentioned the matter vaguely

to Andrew Greer,

and he reckons there's a certain

person could be helpful here.

Kind of person who'd

give you a kidney if you lost one.

So much for client privilege.

Teamwork. That's what wins races.

VOICEMAIL:
You've called Jack Irish.

Leave a message.

(Bleep!)

LINDA:
Jack Irish. Speaking to

the machine of Linda Hillier.

Never really saw myself as a Linda.

Listen, you won't care -

why should you? -

but I'm on the way out up here.

The Pringle wants me

off the premises.

Finds it awkward having me around.

What's that saying -

'Never pee in your own handbag'?

Yeah, well, I need a new handbag.

Actually, I'd prefer an old one.

Goodnight, Jack Irish.

CAM:
So what's on Phillip Island

besides fairy penguins?

Hopefully somebody

who doesn't want to be found.

Can you just try not to shoot me?

I'll see how I feel.

Locals - they picked

the place pretty clean.

Yeah, I'm sure if the water tank

wasn't made of concrete

they would have pilfered that

as well.

Good stuff, concrete. No rust.

Cam, turn around.

Don't tell me.

I like surprises.

Oh, Christ!

Ohh.

Nasty?

Agh, get off me.

Yeah.

Your bloke?

No, it's not Connors.

DAVE:
G'day, Jack.

I just found Dean Canetti,

turned into consomme in a water tank

on a farm in Phillip Island.

What farm?

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