Underbelly Files: Infiltration Page #6

They can get f***ed, mate.

Every clown that's ever f***ed us over.

F*** all of them.

Yeah, goodo. Where's your corkie?

See, the proverbial bar, champer,

the bar that one sets for oneself -

your bar is set permanently

up there somewhere.

I mean, a Mexican bloody jumping bean

on amphetamines couldn't clear it.

Beats me why.

And if that's not enough, you

let the f***ing clowns get to you.

You take it personally.

Alright? You can't.

OK, sh*t happens in life, otherwise

the world's perfect, and it's not.

Except Collingwood Football Club is.

Geoffrey Bowen paid the

ultimate price, mate,

and we can't get more than 50 grand.

So walk away when Antonio tells

me to piss off or walk away now?

What's the diff?

It's over.

The only thing I'm gonna

miss is his company.

Yeah, you said he was good company.

It bothered the sh*t out of me.

That man has more balls and more brains

than all the clowns put together.

He kills people, champer.

They can get you killed, Leigh,

getting on the piss after

a conference in Sydney.

Colin.

I told him not to call you.

He tells me you're being a d*ckhead.

You're out of it, babe.

Better off.

Hey, listen, you're not the

only one with the investment.

I put six of the craziest, most

exciting months of my life into this.

If you walk away now,

I will personally put your

oversized slug in a vice

and I'll stretch it until it looks

like that sausage in the photograph.

Oh.

That makes two of us, fianc.

Sir, we've spent 18 months and

goodness knows how many millions

targeting N'Drangheta.

Now, for an extra couple of hundred

thousand we can clean them up.

I'm no accountant, but that sounds

like a mighty good investment to me.

The Commissioner did his

sums and saw the sense.

Roger. Ever cautious.

Insisted Colin wear a wire

as well as carry the

mobile phone transmitter.

Cole, I was sorry to hear

Jude's mother is not well.

Mmm. Thanks, mate.

I spoke to her this morning in

Sydney. Things aren't looking good.

She said to say hello.

Give her our best regards,

huh? Yeah, I will do.

Thanks, mate.

What's this?

Is that really what I think it is?

It's your kilo of pure

f***ing cocaine, you prick.

OK.

Let me stow this baby somewhere safe

and I'll be back later with the cash.

About 7:
30?

You do trust me to pay later?

We know where you f***ing live, skip.

And at 7:
30 on the dot...

That should cover the cost of dessert.

Followed two weeks later

by 10 kilos of skunk weed.

With funding freed up.

Colin became a reguar at his

local drug dealer corner store.

18 months of scheming. Sweating. And

tradecraft all coming to fruition.

And it got even better.

Cole, this, um, business we've been doing,

it's, um - what do

you say? - chicken sh*t

compared to what we have in mind next.

Half a tonne of marijuana heads. Phwoo.

Grown in New Guinea.

$6 million worth.

It come from New Guinea on a boat

to this Queensland place, er...

Horn. Horn Island.

We load it onto a plane,

fly it to Griffith.

We gift you one-sixth

share, $1 million worth.

The cost to you

- zero.

Nothing. Just find us

an aeroplane and a pilot.

For some reason, we humble fruit growers

have trouble hiring aeroplanes.

Done.

Jeez, when it f***ing

rains around here, it pours.

And this is the icing on the proverbial.

This cuts the N'Drangheta's head off

and buries it.

Is this doable?

Yeah. It's gotta be.

I mean, sure, I run into coppers

with covert experience and

a pilot's licence every day.

Yeah? Well, let's find us one.

I'd sh*t myself if I had to front

the N'Drangheta, and so would he.

I'm down to this guy.

I wish I could say he

filled me with more hope.

Senior Sergeant Jim Zignatowski

was a loy al Victoria Police officer

who enjoyed his posting in the peace

and quiet of the Coroners Court.

So, where's Horn Island?

Torres Strait, just

off Cape York Peninsula.

Then fly back to an airfield

just outside Griffith, NSW,

with cargo

- half a tonne of marijuana heads.

And at least one passenger

- Colin McLaren.

Undercover as Cole Goodwin.

But, in all likelihood,

there'll be two passengers -

Colin, and Rosario Torcaso,

a member of the N'Drangheta.

The endra what?

Calabrian Mafia.

Oh.

No, it all looks feasible.

Half-tonne of cargo,

couple of passengers.

Have to rip the interior

out to fit it all in.

Looking at something fairly sizeable,

e. g., your Navajo Chieftain.

Alright. Can you fly one?

In my sleep, Colin.

You gotta remember "Cole'.

Alright? You gotta remember "Cole'.

Don't worry, we're cooking, Ziggy. Cole.

Cole. Yeah, Cole.

Civil aviation bods will go mental.

Why's that?

I haven't got a licence

to fly a Navajo Chieftain.

Bit like having, well, a car licence

and you wanna drive, e. g., a bus.

I could get a licence, though. Only

take a couple of months, but, Colin.

Yeah. Cole.

Sorry I'm early. Antonio

up yet? Just woken up.

Ooh.

Bad timing.

Can you tell him that

the plane's not a problem,

but there's a bit of a

glitch with the pilot.

We're looking at maybe eight weeks.

So you got a pilot? Yeah,

of course I've got a pilot.

We've gotta meet him, approve

him. That's the glitch.

He's in demand 'cause he's the best.

The boat has to land here, at the jetty.

There's nowhere else.

This is all mangroves.

You've got about 10-12

metres of grassy area here

right at the end of the strip.

Now, the plane will park here for

quickest, most efficient loading.

So, I'm thinking that we put the

SOG-ies in here, in the mangroves,

which will be here.

And that way they can cover both directions

- the plane and the jetty.

Once that plane is loaded,

then we move in. OK?

You, you're gonna be in

Griffith with the cavalry

awaiting my call to take

down the N'Drangheta brass.

Colin, why the SOGs?

Because they're the pros.

But they're Melbourne-based.

The SERTs are Queensland-based.

The SOGs are the pros, Roger.

One more week and we get our pilot.

That's good news, huh?

I've told Rosario a hundred

time, you don't let us down.

I tell you something too, you're

lucky you're small businessman.

I have big business, all I get

- a big headache, huh?

This stuff Italian?

Mmm. Italian Renaissance.

I see no John the Baptist asking for

his head to be f***ing amputated, huh?

Grazie a dio, eh? Mmm.

The Italian Renaissance artists

led the way into secular art,

non-religious stuff.

You're really into art, huh?

"Art washes away from the soul

the dust of everyday life. "

Yeah.

That's nice.

I like that.

Yeah, I wish I'd thought

of it before Picasso did.

Cole... I have a confession.

Mmm.

Massimo Falzetta come

here to find the snitch.

Carlo's idea.

Carlo never trusted you and Jude.

Even when I vouch for you.

Even when I stake my own

life that you are trustworthy,

he no believe me.

Old men, huh?

Old men, huh?

Hey.

Maybe we bring Maria

here, you and me and Jude.

Mmm.

Wash from the souls the

dust of everyday life.

Ziggy. Oh, g'day, mate. How are ya?

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