Jack Irish: Black Tide Page #6

Gary's ex-wife. It's in her name.

See, what'd I tell you?

Lack of resources.

Jesus, dead eh?

I reckon that's enough

cloak and dagger, Dave.

I'd like to know about Black Tide.

Well, I can't talk here, mate,

but, uh, name a place.

How's the Mexican stand-off going?

Pistols at dawn, Jack.

WILBUR:
Head up their arse,

some people.

Yeah, can't see the elephant

till it farts.

It's good to see the Prince still

its usual vibrant self, isn't it?

Nicorette?

I don't want a Nicorette.

You know,

when Black Tide first started up,

we were playing it by the book.

Just watching the drugs come in from

Kabul by the plane and boatload.

I mean, Gary Connors was the glue,

but we were never

going to get near the prick.

And who shut you down?

Came from the top. Cabinet level.

Oh, that's some nerve you touched.

Yeah. The TransQuik nerve.

Levesque?

Mm.

So when we fired

Black Tide up again,

it had to be unofficial,

but not without friends.

This time, we loaded Gary up with

half a kilo of smack in Bangkok.

We stitched him up. Full confession.

Canetti did the job.

Next I hear from Canetti,

he's gone rogue.

Won't hand over the memory card.

He wants to do a DIY WikiLeaks

before TransQuik's moles

get hold of it. Yeah.

Now he's dead and Gary's gone AWOL.

Um, look, Dave, I'm ...

..I'm out, mate.

It's all a little bit scary for me.

I...

I think I might try and find some

other way to help Gary's old man.

Jack, these people know who you are.

Mate, they know your friends,

they know your loved ones.

They even know Gary's old man.

I've had to send Sarah

and the kids away, mate.

I sleep in a no-star motel

with a gun under my pillow.

Oh, yeah.

And your mark's on the slate.

These people want a clean slate.

So...

..unless we find Gary,

we're dead men.

Did you find anything

on Wardle's computer?

Can't this wait?

That was him, wasn't it?

Who?

PlusOne-Dot-Com, on the stairs.

No... don't...

Oh, look!

So the velvet worked, then?

Someone used a file shredder

on Wardle's hard drive,

but I managed

to trawl a few fragments.

Mostly audio.

Three trips a week, flying from

Qatar Air Base to Pine Gap.

Eagle Ex was adding

a heroin sweetener.

MAN:
Go on.

Some of the smack

was in transit for the States.

That's why they bought Leeton

Stevedoring... (Audio breaks up)

Eagle wanted a complete loop

from... (Audio breaks up)

That's a data gap.

Right.

Steven's in blood

up to his naval...

Right, and that's it.

Steven, as in Levesque?

Well, whoever it is, doesn't say.

It's Gary Connors.

But we're gonna have to get the

original of this to make it stick,

or find Gary himself.

Did you run those names -

Eagle Ex, Leeton?

I will print the report

if you promise to go.

I'm sure PlusOne-Dot-Com

doesn't mind waiting in his car.

Alright, all of these are companies

that are connected to, or owned by,

TransQuik and Steven Levesque.

Now go. Please.

Have you got a back way out of here?

Why?

Uh, you're gonna have to tell

PlusOne to meet you around the back.

You're staying at his place tonight.

Oh, no, we're not really

at that stage yet.

I promise I won't think

any less of you. Come on.

Alright.

Dean Canetti's dead.

He's been shot.

Dean Canetti, as in Stuart's

last phone call, Dean Canetti?

Yeah. And I don't think

Stuart went to Auckland.

His passport might have.

Listen, you need to find

somewhere else to live for a while.

Why?

Because these people

can Mortein anything,

and the fact that I've been here

just makes this place unsafe.

Jack, I take photos in war zones

all around the world.

Anywhere closer to home?

Don't look at those. Don't, please?

Look, I...

I know this looks bad, but...

Oh, you reckon?

Well, try and see it

from my point of view.

I mean, you came

barging into my house,

nosing around after Stuart

with nothing but

a crappy Law Institute card,

and, what, I'm supposed to just take

you at face value?

How'd you get these?

I track insurgents for a living.

You think I can't follow you

round Fitzroy?

Look, you never confided in me.

I didn't know

who you really were or...

What do you know about me now?

What do these supposedly tell you?

Well, you're not just some

suburban lawyer for starters.

You could have been

working for ASIO, the Feds...

I work for a 75-year-old

half-back flanker with dodgy knees.

Just find somewhere else to stay,

OK?

(Knocks) Des!

It's just me, mate.

(Continues knocking)

I'm sorry it's so late.

It's important.

I wasn't asleep, anyway.

You run out of dreams

at my age, son. Come on in.

If Gary wanted to

lay low for a while,

you know, maybe

change his name, perhaps,

what do you reckon he'd change it to?

Mother's maiden name or something?

Yeah. Marjorie Rose Keegan.

Keegan.

Where the bloody hell is it?

It's here somewhere.

And did he have any nicknames

as a kid?

Chook. Used to call himself chook.

Spent the school holidays

down at a little chook farm.

Belonged to the wife's cousin.

Come back from there with two heads,

I used to tell him.

Why's that?

Was it in Tassie or something?

Yeah, it was down near Lonnie.

A dead-end spot down there, mate.

And do you remember

your wife's cousin's name?

Oh, yeah, now, uh...

Yeah, she was one of the Painters.

Gary had a bit of a thing

for the daughter - Glenda Painter.

Here, son.

I'd like you to have that one.

I never, ever saw your

old man back away from a fight.

But he couldn't be told, neither.

Were you there that night?

Ah, yes, yes, I was.

I was inside on the dunny

at the time,

and this joker runs in

and he said Bill was dead.

Cracked his head on the kerb.

Gone to God.

What for? Bloody nothin'.

We've all got our weaknesses

in this world, son,

and I'm afraid that danger

and a few grogs were Bill's.

Yeah.

In the blood, I wonder.

DAVE:
Yes, Jack.

Dave?

I might have something for you, mate.

So where's everyone else?

Tonight Black Tide's

more or less you and me, Jack.

The Gulfstream's in the shop, is it?

Cutbacks.

Head office asked if we could

do some crop dusting on the way.

Cigarette?

No.

You know, this is a SOG job, really.

Well, a team of smart SOGies.

Since that's an oxymoron,

you'd end up with a dead Gary.

And that'd mean

the bastards win again.

You don't...

You don't think I should be armed

or anything, do you?

A Federal agent arming a civilian?

Alright, it's time

for Gary's wake up call.

WOMAN:
Hello. Who is it?

Gary Connors, please.

Who is this?

Detective Inspector David Gwynne,

Gary.

Your house is surrounded

by police officers, mate,

and what I'd like you to do

is come out nice and slow

with your hands in the air

so these trigger-happy bastards

don't get other ideas.

No dramas, alright?

Gibbo, hold your fire!

Andy, Andy, settle!

Alright, everyone,

just hold your positions!

Yeah, righto!

Nice and slow, Gary!

Right, I want you to kneel down,

put your hands behind your head.

Lie down, Gary.

Cuff him.

Gary? Gary!

Go inside, Glenda!

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