You a spy?
One of those sleeper cells who's going to kill us all one night?
We had another break-in.
- Did they leave another note? - No.
But I think it was just Ed's way of saying "I'm thinking of you."
The only mention of our child in your little story
was on a card, and it was misspelled.
Three months ago, I got a bill for the rescue for the balloon
from the Australian and New Zealand navies.
1.2 million, Cleave.
I need Cleaver!
Barney, don't go, please! Please! I beg you, please don't go!
I need help. I need help. I need help.
- Oh! Oh. - Oh!
Ah!
Max! Max, it's OK.
I don't know how to stop this.
Fortunately, I do.
Good morning, Mr. Greene.
It's a pleasure to finally meet you.
You know, it used to be just people interacting, you know.
It was something real.
You followed that. That was the conflict.
Yeah, well I still fuckin' like 'em.
Well, I've reached my threshold. That's what I was saying.
I mean, they were great when they started, you know --
they were a break from the convention,
but now it's like there's nothing but them.
That's all I'm saying.
Yeah, well, I still fuckin' like 'em.
You don't wanna go to war over this, Stig, OK?
I'm just saying I think that reality shows have had their day, yeah?
I mean, I still watch the occasional bit of Jamie Oliver.
- Oh, yeah. - I'll admit that, alright?
But I need story.
I need authentic narrative that draws me in,
that takes me to a place I haven't been before
and then gives me some fuckin' meaning at the end.
- Yeah. - I agree.
- You know what I'm saying? - I agree.
I mean, who needs all these game shows
with fuckin' tools in togs getting voted off an island
by a bunch of other tools in togs
because he couldn't find the chocolate bar
inside the treasure chest?
I mean... Come on.
We don't... I mean, whose reality's that? It's not my reality.
Jesus Christ, I haven't got all day. He said 10:00, yeah?
Ah, yeah.
Come on, who needs to watch
yet another fuckwit
who wants to open an Asian fusion Devonshire teahouse
sobbing into burnt broccoli?
- Not the cutters? - No.
Just out of interest, what... what did you...
.. what did you boys like to watch when you were little kids?
What spoke to you?
What fired your interest?
Oh, I always liked that, um, wrestling.
Yeah.
I did, eh.
- No, I liked... - Yeah?
.. I liked a bit of that too.
- What time you got, Stig? - Uh, 9:57.
I loved the wrestling.
Loved it!
What about film?
After you, Ms Brown.
Huntley-Brown, actually.
We'll be needing two glasses.
Thank you.
Good to see you.
So where's Shirl?
You know you can't even smoke in prison anymore.
Poor lamb. She's in the parking lot with Qi.
Qi? Who's Qi? What happened to Sybilla?
She's strayed again, has she? Oh, I'm sorry.
Leopards and spots, my darling, leopards and spots.
When will I ever learn?
But don't we need her?
I mean, she's been a valuable member of this team for 20 years now.
She knows a lot.
It's 126 charges, Hunter.
You need a junior.
I'm aware of that.
Shirl and I have been considering our options very carefully.
There is only one choice --
Cleaver.
Cleaver? Cleaver Greene?!
Think about it.
Is there any other Cleaver?
Oh. Oh...
He's with Raymond.
Oh, shit.
Sometimes they make a good film, sometimes they make a shit film!
It happens!
I just don't think an Edith Wharton novel was the way for Scorsese to go!
Yes, but to me, it's all about the costumes and the production design!
What I like about Scorsese is... Oh, God!
About time.
- Here, hold this. - Well, should I get started?
No! Mate, he was very specific, yes?
Specific.
Yes, Ed?
What? I'm sorry?
No, mate, I'm on the verge here.
This is incredibly unprofessional.
I put a lot of work into these jobs.
You know, they don't just happen because you click
your fingers at me, buddy.
Alright, fine.
But I want my money.
Bastard!
Do you understand
that I will determine who I kill
and the circumstances in which I kill them?
You can tell him that when you see him in hell.
Ray! Stop!
The boss tells you to stop, you fuckin' stop.
the boss!
No, you're not!
How many times do we have to go through that? Fuck!
Who's the boss?
Not you.
That was a good show, though. In the '80s.
- Did you see it? - Who's The Boss?
- Tony Danza? - Yeah.
- Fuck, he was funny. - Oh, I loved that show.
Loved that guy.
Get out. They're expecting you.
Deliveries for the rear.
Oh, I think I'm here to meet someone.
Whom?
I don't know whom, although there was a young lady...
It's alright, Janet. He's with me.
Very good, Ms Huntley-Brown.
Hunter?
But there is the matter of the dress code.
Indeed there is, Janet.
Could you be a dear and help Mr Greene out?
Apologies, Cleaver.
This is a woman's only club and they do have some quaint house rules.
Let me be perfectly frank, my darling.
126 charges -- it's too much for me, Cleaver.
I'm beyond autumn, and already feeling the bite of oncoming winter.
The load is too burdensome.
I don't just need a junior. I need co-counsel.
So Edgar wants me to be your co-counsel? That makes sense.
I mean, I've just spent four months in hiding from the man.
Yet he speaks so fondly of you.
I was this close to an unanaesthetised colonoscopy
courtesy of him.
Time to forgive and forget.
Come on, have some nibbles.
- I don't want nibbles. - They do excellent nibbles.
I don't want nibbles. I want my life back.
And you shall have it.
You will be paid handsomely, of course.
And... given the high profile of the trial...
Right. Yeah.
Suppose it... suppose it will be quite high profile.
No bigger trial.
And we have a very good chance of victory.
There's no chance of victory.
Most of the murders are fine.
A lot of the witnesses have mysteriously disappeared
over the years
or come to an untimely conclusion.
The money laundering could be a bit tricky,
but that's my department.
The arms dealing?
Heavily padded there.
And the drugs -- hundreds of kilos of coke!
That's where you come to the fore, my co-counsel.
You know these people.
You know their mindset.
And you have a spanking track record of defending drug dealers.
Cleaver, you're a lawyer.
You have a duty to justice.
What do you say?
What sort of fee are we talking?
- Weren't you once a lawyer? - And a damn good one!
What kind of bloody madras curry law school did you go to, eh?
Look, let me put it into layman's terms for you,
you Sheikness, or whatever you want to bloody call yourself.
Rip him into, Cal.
Your brother is happy wandering the streets,
spouting this bile while in possession of a deadly weapon...
What weapon?
He was not armed. It was a walking stick.
Oh, why don't you both just hop on a plane
and get the hell out of here?
I tell you what, I'll chip in for the airfare.
I'm Cal McGregor, and we'll be right back after this short break.
But when it came to the 126 charges against
criminal lawyer Edgar Thompson,
the former New South Wales attorney-general
seemed positively reverential
when it came to the presumption of innocence.
The charges against Mr Thompson are many and serious.
But we mustn't rush to judgement on this matter.
We must be patient and calm,
and pay the justice system, as a whole,
the respect it so thoroughly deserves.
So, whatever happened to the idea of justice for all,
and not simply justice for one's mates?
Yes, surprise, surprise --
not one single news outlet
has reported the fact that Edgar Thompson
was once described by Mr McGregor as "one of my oldest and best mates.
"The sort of bloke you would die in a ditch for."
Fuckin' smug ABC arsehole!
Where the fuck they get that from?
Cleaver, this is Shirl.
You know Shirl.
- Yes. - She's just back from Tokyo.
Hello, Shirl.
And this is Qi.
Longest bloody flight of my life.
Eight fucking sleeping tablets just to make the distance.
Smoked five fags before I could get in the taxi.
Yeah, then we stopped halfway for two more.
Yes, we did, my lover.
Don't you just want a handful of that for yourself?
I was just speaking to Cleaver about the drug charges.
You do your thing, Cleaver.
Just remember, this case is really about money.
That's how they're going to get him, alright?
- Really, darling... - 12.3 million in Swelt bonds.
12.6.
A billion in derivatives
run through three instrumentalities in Budapest and a Cameroon trust.
1.265 billion.
746K in Buda Bank.
5.1 in Cameroon.
But that is nothing without Liechtenstein.
I hope you're listening to me, Hunter.
Like gems from the bard, petal.
You need to build a wall around fuckin' Liechtenstein.
Get them to focus on the Caymans and the Dutch Antilles.
I can camouflage that easy peasy.
If Liechtenstein goes down, though, the body count will be Somme-like.
Don't we need to consider the charges...
Are you fuckin' deaf? There is only Liechtenstein.
Shirley, I think you need to go back on the patches.
I don't call this a paper. I don't even call it a rag.
I don't think it's worthy of the title 'dunny roll'.
Even in extremis, gentlemen, I would not put this near my bum.
We're all on edge with this Thompson thing, but...
Hey! I am in the frame here now!
You blokes have to understand one thing -- you are expendable.
What matters is if I go down.
I am the past, present and future of our voice in this state.
But I can't seem to go too soft on him 'cause of this
Media Watch fuckery.
Nor can we.
So, our esteemed Director of Public Prosecutions,
what can we offer Edgar to buy his silence?
Nothing more.
Cal, there were potentially 500 charges.
We've whittled them down to 126. We can't forgive any more.
Our hands are tied, Cal. This is in the legal realm now.
There are 57 charges that have political implications
and/or connections.
Yes, mainly concerning very large donations to both parties
from nonexistent entities both foreign and domestic.
Then there's a little extortion, bribery and a bunch of land deals.
If we could shake those 57 free...
No, it would stink of political expediency. You can't.
So, what, you're going to be Ed's junior barrister?
No, his co-counsel.
Oh, Cleave, this is the frog and the scorpion all over again.
Look, I didn't exactly have a mountain of choice.
It wasn't like, "Oh, do you want an all-expenses
"jaunt to the Maldives,
"or do you want to represent Ed?"
- I'm just happy to be alive, right? - You do have choices, Cleaver.
You go to the cops, you tell them he had you kidnapped,
you tell them they nearly killed you.
Yeah, right.
The last cop I met was wearing a bullet in his brain.
Right -- so you're now... you're going to be representing
the man that you hid from for four months.
Ah...
Cleave, have you spent any time at all reflecting
on the patterns in your life?
On the upside, it'll be very well paid and very high profile.
Could be just what I need.
This is Edgar Thompson we're talking about.
The man who hid cocaine in our vacuum cleaner.
Uh, no, he didn't, actually.
You said it was him.
I was a little strung out at the time
and you'd found all my other hiding places.
What?
Oh.
Not a fuckin' word.
You weren't around to tell, Cleave.
Oh, and you didn't think it might be polite to wait?
You didn't think I might be interested to know
I was being evicted
from the only place I've ever lived in for the last 12 years?
12 years free rent, Cleave.
You forget it was me your father asked to keep you out of prison
on some very serious drug charges.
I was innocent! The jury said so.
The jury said so because of me, and I never billed you for it.
This flat, that was the deal I struck with your dad
on a handshake.
That was the way we rolled back then in those days --
handshakes between men.
God rest his soul.
I would have done three years tops, Cleave.
Three years. That's nine years free rent, OK?
Enough. Enough is enough. Finito, capisce? You're out.
Done. Capisce. Fuck me.
Where's... what have you done with my stuff? Capisce?
Are you gonna pay for your coffee?
- Anna, it's me. - Hey, stranger.
- You got my invite? - Yep, I'm looking at it.
- You coming? - Uh, depends.
- Did you invite Bevan? - Yep.
And he's coming, right?
Yep.
Then no, I can't.
I couldn't face him.
Last time I saw him was our wedding day
and I was carrying another man's baby.
He's moved on, Nic. He's forgiven you.
How can he move on? I haven't forgiven myself.
I spent a year just staring in a mirror
trying to figure out who the hell I am and how I could do that to him.
He's fine. He's gone on to great things.
You should check out his website.
He apparently made a fortune out of this app he created.
I told him you might come,
and he said that he'd love to see you again.
Bevan did not say that.
Well, he said he wouldn't kill you,
which in the context of you being a skank ho is about the same thing.
Please come.
I'll think about it.
Bevan? No way!
- How'd it go? - With the insurance guys?
Fantastic! My God, what a fabulous bunch.
Right -- so I take it we're still on the hook.
You know, both of the armed services, Australian and Kiwi,
used three choppers each.
That's six choppers to find one man in a balloon.
It's a scam!
I mean, if they're not at war, what else are they doing?
Rescuing people for profit.
Well, tell 'em you'll pay for petrol.
Six choppers, two frigates, assorted "supporting vessels",
one poor bastard in a balloon.
"That'll be 1.2 million, thank you, sir.
"Now, will that be cash or credit?
"Or will you be splitting the bill with Mr fucking Greene?"
Are we still having dinner?
He has to accept responsibility for this.
If I have to take him dancing, I'll do so.
OK. Betsy.
No, Cleave -- not Betsy.
- Not Betsy? - No, she stinks.
She's not coming into my house.
She doesn't stink.
And how... there's so much activity, so many years of...
A mattress is not a piece of fruit.
You can't eat the mattress and throw the peel away.
Are you misquoting Miller?
I don't... I don't know, actually.
Well, currently, Cleave,
she's strapped to a wall covered in piss and come stains,
so I'm not convinced you've shown her the respect
that she may have deserved.
Alright, fine. Gwyneth comes with me.
Gwyneth... Gwyneth predates you.
Actually, I think Gwyneth predates Gwyneth.
Cleave,
Gwyneth is a symbol of everything about your manky life
that doesn't work and you know it.
Oh, very nice.
Let's just give her to a DNA lab and they can deal with it.
Very... Actually, I am drawing a line in the sand.
Do you know what?
She has been my rock through many an emotional storm.
No, Cleaver, she's not coming into my house.
OK, fine. I'll stay here.
With Gwyneth.
You can't trust any of them. They all want your job.
The real question is, why would anyone want my job?
- Six of them are waiting to pounce. - I know, Chris. I live and breathe.
- Where are we headed? - Toko.
- In the city? - That's what the email says.
David, don't cave on Ed Thompson.
You've never met him.
They can't throw shit on you about him.
Take it up to them.
That's how you can differentiate yourself.
If I take it up to them, I'll lose over half my front bench,
because over half my front bench have done more than just meet him.
Then name them and shame them.
Call their bluff.
This is the resurrection.
It's him.
- Hello? - Harry!
- Sorry. David. - Yes, Stevie?
It's time we reached out to each other, mate.
You know, hands across the water sort of thing.
On what particular issue would that be, Steven?
Homelessness?
This Thompson business.
Really? Thompson? Now there's a surprise.
It's not going to go well for either of us, mate.
Your party is dead in the water if he blows his bugle.
We've got to work together on this.
There's just too many bodies, mate.
Right, so we can't get together on the environment,
affordable housing, domestic violence,
but we can get together to save a criminal sociopath.
Is that right?
Yep, well, I see your point, Steven, but...
There is a principle at stake here, and that...
Right.
OK.
No! That is the final word, OK? That's my position.
Fuck him, fuck you, fuck the lot of you.
He's hung up, hasn't he?
- Mm, a while back. - When did he hang up?
After you said no?
No, just after I caved in entirely on Thompson.
Please don't speak until after lunch.
So, Cleave, this is just for a couple of days, right?
What? Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it.
Yeah, come on, it'll be great! Be like old times, huh?
That's exactly what I'm afraid of. Here.
What do you mean, afraid of?
Come on, don't be so negative.
I know life in the fast lane can be a little blustery at times...
- Oh, blustery? - .. but it can also be fun, can't it?
What about Vegas, huh?
You really want to bring up Vegas?
Alright, Vegas is a bad example.
What about... what about... Christmas in Denmark?
- Mmm... - Positano?
- Yeah, well... - Beautiful.
- Yeah, that was OK. - Beautiful.
That was mainly to do with the location.
What about Marrakesh? Beautiful.
Oh, two weeks in a hash haze courtesy of guess who.
Well, that was a gift, if you remember,
for being, as he put it,
"the best associate that he'd ever had
"in his entire stinking life," huh?
He needed to repay my skills...
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
That was my present to you on our first wedding anniversary.
I know. I know.
Bet if I looked hard enough, I'd find a gas bill from 1985.
"Merry Christmas to darling Wendy, from Santa."
1978, no less.
- Hi, David. - Hi, David!
Hi, guys.
- How are we? - We're great, thanks, David.
Better take your shoes off. Mum's new rule in the house.
Well, I'd better obey her rules, then, huh?
Yeah, we have to wear slippers now.
Mum said we should give you these.
Oh, wow.
Thank you, guys.
That means a lot. Thank you.
What the hell is...
Oh, what the hell is that?!
Who did this, huh?
- Did you do this? Did you? - Mum!
- Mum!
Did you do this?
- Did you? - Let him go!
What are you doing to my children?
This is not funny, alright? All of you!
You! You leave my children alone.
They put dog shit in my slippers, Scarlet.
Let's... let's not leap to conclusions.
What dog on earth takes a dump in both slippers?
Or have you trained it to do that?
Did you do this?
You promise me?
They say they didn't.
Under the circumstances...
They have been playing stupid practical jokes on me
ever since I first walked in here!
It's your word against theirs, David.
OK.
They put dog shit in my slippers, Scarlet.
Dog shit!
Cleave! Where are you? I've been dying to see you!
Ah, I'm meeting Barn at the Wood.
The Wood?
The Wood on Crown or the Wood on Foster?
- Foster. - Cool.
I'm... I'm, like, five minutes away.
OK. Can you make it a halfer?
I've got some stuff to talk to Barn about.
Yep. See you in a halfer.
- Hey. - Hey.
Come on, give us a cuddle.
Huh?
If it leads to sex, it leads to sex.
What can you do?
Oh, yes.
Oh, you've made a little effort for me. That's nice.
Fuck!
Fuck...
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
- 1.2 million, Cleave. - Yeah.
That's the bill.
- That's a lot. - I didn't book the balloon.
I never met the guy who owned the balloon.
I wasn't the one who untethered the balloon.
- I was just the guy... - Just the guy in the basket, yep.
Yes, I've heard it.
Um... look, don't worry. It won't be a problem.
It is a problem.
I've spent the day with their lawyers.
I've had to put up 50 grand
just so they won't start proceedings against me.
Was that wise?
I mean, what about culpability?
Did you game that out very well?
Where's all your medical insurance, mate?
I doubt it even covers me for a heart attack,
let alone getting lost in a balloon.
Hold on a minute.
Did you say they're taking proceedings against me, meaning you?
Yeah.
Right. So they're not making any claims against me, as such?
- Cleaver, don't you fucking dare. - What?
OK. It's alright, Nana.
Alright, calm down.
A nice hot cup of tea, a Bex, little lie-down.
It's alright. I will deal with it.
But you won't deal with it.
You will lie, procrastinate, hide,
then run away and leave me in the shit to sort it out
because that is all you ever bloody do!
Hey!
Mate...
.. what about we try and remember
the circumstances in which this arose, OK?
Don't poke me, please.
Well, I'm just poking you in the same way as you poked me, huh?
To make your little point.
Well, do it without your finger.
Well, what do you want me to poke you with, huh?
You need to hear this.
You had cancer, my friend, and I was looking after you.
Your life was shit. And what did I do?
I got you a beautiful gift. A balloon ride.
And, yes, things might have gone a little awry, OK,
and you went to New Zealand,
but my intentions were good.
Oh, you can't even do good well.
Who's got all the morning TV shows?
Who's got all the book deals?
Who doesn't have cancer anymore?
I bet you're fuckin' raking it in, mate.
And so far, not so much as a,
"Thank you, Cleave."
You're not serious?
I am serious.
You are a walking Fukushima reactor.
Oh, well, fuck you, Shima. Let go of my fuckin' finger.
I told you not to poke me. You wouldn't listen.
Now I've got yours.
And now I've got yours!
Let it go.
Oh, no! Oh, what's gonna happen now?
Oh, spooky!
Spooky, isn't it? Let go, fuckhead.
No, you let go of mine, then I'll let go of yours.
What is this, a bloody Balinese finger puppetry?
Let go of the fuckin' finger!
Alright, Barney, I'll let go. I'll let go first, OK?
Alright, we'll let go together.
Here we go. One, two...
Don't do that again.
- Hey! - What?
- That? - No, no, no, no -- more like that.
That?!
This, eh? Yes?
- Yeah. - Ohh!
Come on!
Come on! Come on, fuckhead!
Yeah, you fuckin'...
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Sorry.
I don't know. I just saw red.
Right.
So, not Barney and me -- red?
Pretty much.
You OK?
Oh, don't touch me, either of you.
You're on the hook for this, Cleave.
Yeah, yeah. Lady's finger.
Oh, this is a shade below the penthouse suite at the Sheraton
from last time.
This? It's just a place to crash. It's only very temporary.
Most of my money's still tied up in the States.
I had a lot of legal bills after this whole Lyle bullshit.
He's such a prick. Can't believe I fell for him.
Yeah.
Anyway, I actually have this amazing apartment lined up,
but the fucking real estate agent!
So this is me for a week, maybe two.
It is so good to see you.
Mm-hm.
You too.
I see it now, you know.
You've always been the one that's there for me.
Mm-hm.
Miss? What's going on?
Nothing.
Uh-huh...
Just writing another bestseller.
Uh-huh...
You know, when I'm in my writing mode,
I just go into my own world, you know?
Mm-hm. Um...
So... party night.
Are you... holding?
- Holding? - You know...
Yeah, yeah, I know what holding means.
Um... how much are you doing?
Me? Hardly any.
The odd social line.
Come on -- don't bullshit a bullshitter.
I've read the papers, for one thing.
I was just thinking that we could have some fun.
Don't you remember the old party nights?
Mmm.
From memory you used to know a guy called, uh... Sam.
Um, this isn't a party night, sweetheart,
and, no, I don't do it anymore.
But you probably still have his number, wouldn't you?
Sam is the last person you need to see, my darling.
Um, where's the bathroom? I've got to clean this shit off me.
Oh, it's just down the hall.
I was just asking.
- I'm OK. - Mm-hm.
I know fucked up when I see it.
Do you remember when you used to come and visit me in rehab?
Remember what that looked like?
Now, listen, I've had a bit of a bad day today,
but I'm going to call you first thing in the morning,
and we're going to sort you out.
Alright?
I love you.
I love you too.
Enough not to give you Sam's number.
Sleep, darlin'.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
Is this Sam? I'm a friend of Cleaver Greene's.
Sorry to wake you. Wrong Sam.
Yes. Cleaver Greene, Sam.
I'm just in from out of town
and he said I should give you a call.
Yes, this is Cleaver Greene's phone.
He lent it to me.
No, I will not tell him that!
Fuck you!
We did do it.
I know you did.
Go back to bed, sweetheart.
I don't feel like talking anymore.
Hi. What are you doing here?
I just, uh, need to see the kids.
- It's not your night. - Is David here?
No, he's gone.
Well, come on in, then.
Um, I'll just see 'em and then I'll go, OK?
You OK?
Yeah. David and I had a fight.
- The kids... - What about them?
- What did he do? - No, he didn't do anything.
It was just... It was...
.. a misunderstanding.
What do you want?
To see you.
You're still vitamising compost, I see.
Oh!
Can you please do up your dressing-gown?
Oh, nothing that you haven't seen before, baby.
It's not something I particularly want to be reminded of.
What happened to you last night?
Oh, got into a bit of a tangle with Barn.
Where's my fucking phone?
I can't find it any...
Can I borrow yours?
Well, you're borrowing everything else.
Right. What's my number?
You don't know your number?
Who knows their own numbers these days?
- Nobody knows their own numbers. - It's in my phone.
We all used to know each other's numbers --
you remember, in the pre-Cambrian era?
Mm.
Friendly, friendly times, the olden days.
We all knew each other's numbers.
OK, it's not under C or G. What's it under?
S for Sexy Pants?
Or is it under D for Darling Heart?
- It's under E. - E? What's E?
Actually, it's probably easier if I just...
Cleaver, can you give me the phone?
Edwards.
El...
.. Fucko.
- That's my number. 'El Fucko'? - Oh, sorry.
- Are you serious? - Sorry! I'm sorry!
That's my number?
It's just something that Fuzz heard me saying about you
when he was little
and then he started saying it
and then sometimes when you're not around we...
- It's just... it's a joke. - Oh, 'we'?
Oh, so my boy has been calling me El Fucko since he was a boy?
It's a nickname. A nickname.
That's not a nickname.
Fatty is a n... Hendo is a nickname.
Curly is a nickname.
That's...
So what, did Barney punch you in the face?
Uh, no, Missy punched me...
.. Missy punched me in the f...
Let me just give El Fucko a bell.
Miss, it's me.
I know what you're doing.
I know you flogged my fucking phone
so you can get in touch with my ex-dealer,
but I need it back, OK?
I'm about to defend Australia's biggest crim! Give me back my phone!
Thank you very much.
Shit.
Don't know how we came up with that nickname.
So we thought we'd have this lunch
to make it clear that we wish Edgar godspeed,
and that comes from both sides of the house.
Well, God tends to set an excellent pace.
I presume that means you're picking up the bill, Cal.
And although we're not really in a position
to influence the courts...
Oh, please. As if one would ask.
Absolutely.
But, Hunter, let me just say firstly,
we do need a bit of clarification, guys,
on who's picking up the tab here.
Cleaver, the lunch is on me. Go hog wild.
Very well.
Garcon.
We have persuaded Norton here,
really for reasons of clarification more than anything else,
to substantially reduce the number of charges against Edgar.
What do you think, Cleaver?
Well, the question is quantum, Hunter.
The quantum is the question.
Now, let me put it to you on behalf of the defence, guys,
in a way that is both rational and expository.
What in the name of fuck are you offering us?
Apart from the Romanee-Conti Grand Cru 1975.
Well, we haven't really put an exact number on it yet, have we, Norton?
No, not exact.
But the sort of figure we're tossing around...
- Perhaps... - Because... for argument's sake,
and I'm just pulling a number out of the thin air here,
you understand...
Of course.
.. a reduction of 57 charges clearly wouldn't work for Edgar.
The secret of good pate is to force-feed the goose
before you kill it.
That's when their organ juices start to flow.
Let me put it another way.
How much jail time would Edgar be prepared to spend?
Would he be comfortable with, say, 10?
10?
- Eight? - Eight?!
Politically, anything less than eight would be very, very tricky.
Anything less than 10 years would be unconscionable.
You'd bring down the entire apparatus of government.
Since when did the New South Wales government have an apparatus?
Oh.
Mmm. Oh... my... God!
No, no, no. I won't do it. I won't do it. All bets are off.
Oh, guys, just have a go at this. It's going to change your life.
What do you want, Hunter?
Liechtenstein.
Absolutely not!
We are not dropping Liechtenstein.
Liechtenstein is there to stay.
Cleaver, could you be a dear
and just have a quick word with Shirl?
Oh, I suppose so.
Mmm.
Mmm!
Shirl, are we absolutely sure Liechtenstein's all we want...
She's mine.
- You understand? - What?
Qi. You keep your hands off him.
She? Him? What are you talking about?
If I catch you trying anything,
there will be only one cock left between the four of us,
I swear to God.
Shirl... look, you really need to focus now, OK?
Is Liechtenstein it?
Qi and I have been going over the numbers again.
We might be weak on the Honduras Petroleum Alliance as well.
You don't want Honduras.
We don't want Honduras.
OK.
- OK. Thank you, Qi. - I'm watching you, Cleaver.
My dad was a vivisectionist.
And you.
Cleaver, my love, wonderful news.
Liechtenstein's off the table.
Apparently we need Honduras as well.
Some Petroleum Alliance or some bullshit.
You've got to be joking. I have to give them something.
As we have discussed, Norton,
you will.
All in good time.
Eighteen grand for a bottle of plonk?! Are you insane?
It seems entirely reasonable, Cal.
In fact...
We might as well have another bottle.
As well as Honduras.
No. No, no, no.
There's been no pressure from government.
Look, these charges have been dropped
so that I can harness the full resources of the
Department of Public Prosecutions
on the more serious charges.
What's more serious than murder?
No, it is not political.
The dropped charges involved very few members of my party,
and those few members regret it not going to trial.
They were very much looking forward
to clearing their names going forward.
So, Premier,
to these stories of a political fix in the Edgar Thompson case.
Oh, boy, Cal -- you do ask the tough questions.
Well...
Let me assure you there is nothing political here.
I know very little about the case,
and furthermore, the separation of powers
between the government and the judiciary is sacrosanct.
The idea of some sort of political fix is ridiculous.
Mmm. No, I take your point, Premier.
There has been a lot of rubbish published about Edgar Thompson,
especially by the Arseholes Broadcasting Communism,
or the ABC, as I like to call 'em for short.
I met the man once at a fundraiser for handicapped children
and I have been pilloried for it.
I was driving the miniature train for the kiddies,
and from memory, Thompson was one of the guards.
Now, I may have put my arm around him at some stage.
I'm a huggy kind of a guy.
You know, I fondle everyone.
Well, not the kids. Uh...
I'm Cal McGregor and we'll take a short break.
G'day, Sam.
I had to spend half an hour
explaining your little friend's phone call to my wife.
Fuck you, Cleaver!
My little friend didn't happen to tell you
where she'd be today, did she?
You see?
He wants to be friends.
Time to forgive and forget.
Oh, believe me, Hunter, I'd like to forget everything.
What are you doing?
Just get... As you go through the files, then we can...
Yep.
.. work out what's going on, alright?
Over the weeks ahead,
you will hear some of the most extraordinary charges
ever heard in this place.
Extortion. Drug running. Money laundering.
Murder. Kidnapping.
The list is endless,
because the man in the dock, Edgar Allan Thompson,
is possibly the most dangerous, vindictive,
evil man you will ever...
Uh... Um...
So, yes, anyway, all this will come out
as we, uh... present our case against him as we go along.
Ms Huntley-Brown.
Quick, quick, quick. Come on, come on, come on, come on!
Pardon me, Your Honour.
So much paperwork.
And yet so little evidence.
Thaddeus Huntley-Brown, my late father,
was the Anglican vicar of a small stone church in Surrey,
in England's green south.
The church, built in 1724,
was surrounded by fields
brimming with foxglove, lupins, marigolds,
and the air was always rich with a scent of roses.
That was my childhood.
And no matter what the weather, my father and I would go a-rambling.
And I remember chatting to my father on one of these precious walks
about some particularly awful murder.
And I said, in the plaintive voice of a 10-year-old child,
"Oh, Daddy, I hope they hang the man they arrested."
And he looked at me with his gentle brown eyes...
.. and said,
"I see you have already judged this man and found him guilty.
"Like the Pharisees of old who nailed our Lord to the cross,
"your judgement has come before the trial."
I know in my heart that you, our jury,
will prove better judges than the 10-year-old me.
Mr Greene.
Ladies and gentlemen,
my antecedents aren't quite as picturesque
as my learned co-counsel's.
My father was the son of a Catholic priest.
Oh, fuck!
Now, let me turn to the children
whom Edgar Thompson has helped through his foundation --
Oh, fuck, she's talking about the foundation.
How many might not still be here if it hadn't been...
Don't mention the foundation.
That's where he's hidden half the money. Connects to Liechtenstein.
But let us not dwell on all Edgar's good works.
To allegations of deeds most foul.
Would it surprise you
to know that we have three witnesses who have put you at the scene...
She was killed by you in a jealous rage.
Wasn't she?
You claim arson
and yet there is no police report of a fire having actually happened.
Oh, dear.
Not only were you not in Sydney at the time,
you weren't even in Australia.
You were in Colombia!
-- The court is being asked to take the word of a man
who has been twice arrested for perjury.
Don't waste my time!
You've been Skully O'Dwyer's second-in-command for years,
haven't you?
If anybody was dealing, it was probably you.
I do struggle with charts and lines.
I hope the jury can understand Professor Dalgleish's theorems
better than this daughter of a vicar.
So... the Russian girls currently being held
against their will in your brothel,
are they still pressing charges, or not?
Does it merely appear to be the case
that the accused is behind this financial intrigue,
or do you have actual evidence to prove this?
When did you stop doing ice?
Or... or should I ask, have you stopped doing ice?
And are there cash records to prove this payment?
It was cash, obviously. No-one pays for a hit with a direct debit.
Obviously.
This isn't about economics -- it's about justice.
Your Honour, with regard to this final charge,
we would first like to call Lydia Simone Gleeson.
Mr Greene.
Uh, Your Honour, it would appear
that there is no Lydia Simone Gleeson on the Crown's witness list.
I did contact my learned friend's
senior co-counsel last night
and explained the circumstances.
Indeed, Mr Crown did contact me last night, Your Honour,
and I informed him
that there would be no objection to
Ms Gleeson's being called as a witness.
Sincere and abject apologies for failing to inform
my most learned co-counsel,
but he seems to have misplaced his mobile telephone.
Your Honour should also be aware that in return for her cooperation,
Ms Gleeson has been granted immunity from prosecution.
Very well. Let's get on with it, shall we?
Call Lydia Simone Gleeson.
You know her?
Uh, yeah.
She must have got married.
She used to be Stein.
Worked for us as a paralegal.
Which one is this again, Mr Crown?
Uh, the last one.
23715/16.
This is concerning the importation
of approximately 10 kilos of cocaine,
Your Honour.
- Shit. - Ah, yes.
The vase.
Uh, Your Honour, may I request a five-minute adjournment, please?
Very well.
All rise.
Why are you here?
I came to say that I'm sorry.
No, you didn't.
And even if you did, you already have.
So come on, talk to me. What's going on?
Did you see Sam?
I saw a Sam.
Which one? What did you take?
Oh!
What didn't we take is the question, Your Honour.
OK, you need help.
Your help.
I am about... this close to not caring what happens next, Cleave.
Honestly.
May I lead the witness?
Anything to save His Honour's precious time.
Ms Gleeson, whilst studying law at the
University of New South Wales
in the years 1995 and 1996,
you were employed by the firm
Elliot, Moor and Masters as a paralegal,
were you not?
I was.
I was considering a career in the criminal law,
so I was seconded, if you will,
to work for Edgar Thompson.
I see. And when did you leave the firm?
End of '96.
I wanted to travel, consider my options.
I see. And these travels took you to the African continent, did they?
They did.
I fell deeply in love with a Moroccan businessman
who turned out to be a drug dealer.
He used me cruelly.
I see. How very, very sad.
I presume you, uh, craved support
from family, friends, former colleagues?
I did. I managed to speak with them occasionally.
Do any of these communications stand out?
One does.
I was asked to deliver 10 kilograms of cocaine
to a certain address in Marrakesh.
It was very specific.
The cocaine was to be hidden in a vase.
Mmm.
Is the person who made that request in this courtroom?
He is.
Would you please point out this person to His Honour and the jury?
Let the jury note she has indicated Edgar Thompson.
No, I haven't.
it was Cleaver Greene.
Oh, dear, dear, poppet.
The cocaine in the vase, you know, from Morocco.
Cleaver has a vase of cocaine?
Where?
Feeling a little nostalgic tonight, mate.
Is Thompson paying you?
What if he were?
So what's going to happen, Shirl?
Haven't you worked it out, Cleave?
Well, I think I'm for the chop.
If we are going to act on this, then that's it.
You are Cal McGregor.