Underbelly Files: Infiltration

'N'Drangheta' -

a hard word to get your tongue around.

So let's just call it what it is.

The Calabrian Mafia.

They arrived in Australia

early last century

and established a power base in the

farming country of New South Wales

because that's what they were

- peasant farmers.

They grew fruit and vegies. alright.

But that wasn't their only cash crop.

When marijuana came along.

They coudn't believe their luck.

They went into the dope business

big-time and made a fortune

and like Mafia back home in Italy.

They protected their pot

of gold with tooth and claw.

I swear, I didn't do it.

Didn't we pay you enough?

Plenty. I never took the stuff.

Just tell the truth.

You stole from the crop

we pay you to look after.

You're gonna knock me anyway.

Just tell me the truth.

And you won't knock me?

There is a chance.

I pinched 100 plants.

You've got hundreds of thousands out here.

Listen, I sold them, but

I'll get them back to you, OK?

It's not a problem. I got a bit now,

and I'll give you a bit... No, please!

I told the truth. I told the truth.

Yes, you did.

And you will go to heaven...

Arggh! Ohh!

...with a limp.

And when God says, "Why do you limp?"

You tell him the truth too

- you thieved.

No, Antonio...!

Over the years.

They notched up dozens of violent murders.

Police coudn't ignore them forever.

But how do you crack open an

organisation like the Mafia?

They're a family. They

don't trust outsiders.

They never talk business on the phone

and they never roll over.

For a long time.

His name

- Colin McLaren.

SONG:

It's a jungle out there...

In the 1990s.

The Australian Government set up

police operations across the country

to find out ex actly what the

Mafia was up to and stop them.

I was part of the Victorian task force

and that's the man I'm talking about

- Colin McLaren.

And that's his team -

investigators. Italian translator.

Squirrels. including me.

I was a squirrel.

Nothing to do with acorns.

It was our nickname for

surveillance operatives.

And there were the bean counters.

Loyalty is the core of

N'Drangheta's success.

You can't simply join N'Drangheta.

You have to be born into

an N'Drangheta family.

N'Drangheta grows by

marriages between the families.

Antonio Russo is married to Maria Ricci.

She's the daughter of Carlo Ricci.

He's been the boss of the

Griffith shebang for aeons.

Antonio has inherited

the reins from Carlo.

Blood gives N'Drangheta its strength.

Blood and absolutely no mercy.

Arggh!

Hi, Dad. Hey!

Love you.

Got soccer tomorrow, Dad.

When was the last time I forgot? Never.

Come on.

Ciao.

We started by buggering

up their marijuana business

using satellite surveillance

to bust their crops

15 years before Google Earth.

Three f***ing crops in a

month. F***ing satellite.

How can the f***ing

thing see a marijuana crop

from outer f***ing space?

They're costing us a lot of money.

Antonio, we stop planting. Agreed?

There. Fixed the f***er.

Ex cept Antonio Russo was

more than up to the challenge.

But every step he took.

We were right behind him.

Excuse me! Have you got a sec?

Um, I'm a bit lost.

I'm looking for, uh...

What is it? Market Street.

Do you know where that is? Oh, Market Street

- that one.

So they must have unloaded

20,000 little marijuana babies.

But they can't be going to grow them

in there. There's not enough room.

No. Mr Russo's got somewhere else in mind.

Antonio's plan

- hydroponics on a massive scale.

Which needed a huge

shed. Tons of equipment

and some poor fool who

was desperate enough

to let his property be used by the Mafia.

They're tooling up to grow under lights.

They're shifting the marijuana

babies into this shed here,

out of sight of the satellites.

Put them under growing lights,

turn on the irrigation -

$5 million worth.

Antonio Russo connected to the plants?

Rosario Torcaso connected to the shed.

So we've got more than enough to

do them for conspiracy to cultivate.

Conspiracy's piss-weak, Roger.

This is the top N'Drangheta brass.

As soon as they're in that shed

with the growing lights turned on,

they're up to their eyeballs

in cultivation, possession

and distribution -

10 years, 6 years to serve.

That cuts the N'Drangheta head off.

So we're looking at, what, a month?

When they're in, we'll move.

I'll pencil a month into the time line.

The clock's ticking, remember.

A month?

Even a humble squirrel like me

thought it was ridicuously optimistic.

It would never have occurred to the

old guy to grow crops undercover,

not in a million years.

But Antonio Russo

- this prick thinks outside the box.

He's...

A bright bastard.

Mmm.

OK, the Shepparton farmer, he,

er, he telephone to Antonio Russo.

The farmer says his

wife now change her mind.

"She wants nothing to do

with N'Drangheta, full stop. "

And Antonio says that he's relaxed

about things, he understands.

He says to wait 12 months

and then reassess things.

F*** me.

What do you wanna go to Griffith for?

There is no guarantee

they'll ever use the shed,

and even if they do,

we can't sit around on our

arses waiting for 12 months.

There's N'Drangheta here

in Melbourne. Foot soldiers.

Roger, we've got to

take down Antonio Russo.

I've never been to Griffith.

I just wanna go up there, sniff

around the place, suss out...

We've already spent a fortune

on the squirrels' travel and

meal allowance in Griffith.

Roger, you said so yourself, alright

- the clock is ticking.

We've got a two-year statutory

life. We're already eight months in.

This is our one chance.

Now, I just have to find another angle in.

I'm sorry, but I don't think so. No.

Can we clean up those marijuana babies?

Yep. Waiting to speak to the local DI now.

I thought we'd dummy up a drug

raid, arm's length from us,

you know, local boys and

girls acting on local intel.

I'll concoct something.

Good. That's exactly

what Colin and I thought.

If the N'Drangheta get a whiff of us now,

they'll go absolutely to ground.

Good call.

Griffith's lovely this

time of year, isn't it?

Oh, Inspector Davis, hello.

Squirrels, who's up

for showing Collie-Wol

the sights and delights of Griffith?

I've had a gutful of the dump.

I've got an appointment

with my gynaecologist.

Yeah, if you promise

Roger won't sh*t himself.

Fools rush in. right?

Colin, I'm sorry.

You've offered no tangible justification

for the outlay in TAs and MAs

in excess of those already

allocated against Griffith.

Whatever, Roger. We're here, mate.

Antonio was told that the

marijuana babies were busted.

He's very angry.

Very angry's good. We might unsettle him.

Watch yourselves. Thanks, Sandra.

Antonio Russo's humble abode.

Here he comes, the man himself.

Local palace of dreams.

Eau de stale beer.

Yeah, I remember that cigarette

smell from six months ago too.

Two G&Ts, please.

Our lucky day. 11 o'clock, two tables

pushed together, the dirty dozen.

Let's squirrel, squirrel.

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