Rake

I thought we were going to Mick's.

I don't have a lot of time, mate. I've gotta be at the club at 10:00.

Get out of the car, Cleave.

Oh, come on, mate. Mick knows I'm good for it.

Christ, I reckon I've put both of his boys through Cranbrook.

None of us feel good about this, Cleave,

not Mick, not me.

After what you done for my brothers...

Oh, well, yeah, now that you mention it, Col.

Mick's got some serious cash flow issues.

He had to take on a new business partner.

He can't be seen to be weak.

I can't be seen to be weak either, not right now, mate.

Oh, come on, Col.

Oh!

Ohh!

Fixed terms of trade now, Cleave — 14 days.

Hey!

Mmm, nice.

You should go to the hospital.

You'll do.

Oh... Oh, easy, tiger!

Oh, fuck.

So we get to this bar in Belacena, I think it was,

and there's this guy...

Blindfold guy? Uh-huh.

..and he could play 20 games of chess at once.

What? Some sort of Spanish Rain Man?

I swear!

I'd be wanting to see the thread count on that blindfold, by the way.

Arggh!

So his girlfriend told him the moves,

he couldn't see a thing,

but he remembered every single square on every board.

He just strolled around the tables, drinking pernod and playing chess.

Who won? The guy in the blindfold.

Oh, there's a surprise.

But my dad gave him a run for his money.

Ohh!

What? Is she sitting out there timing us?

This economic climate's turning every decent vendor in this town into a reptile.

First my bookie, now my brothel keeper.

12,000 years I've been coming to this place.

Think I would've accrued some frequent fucker points by now.

Um, I can't do Thursday, by the way.

You alright?

Yeah.

Cleaves!

Joe!

Jesus. What happened to you?

Cupboard door, eye height.

Oh, right. One of Mick's doors?

When are you gonna learn?

Oh, next life maybe, the one after that...

Give it away, mate. Gambling's a disease.

I know. You got a driver?

Oh, mate, the days when I could take a government car to the club

are long gone.

There is such a thing as ministerial accountability, you know?

Pity.

How's the election looking?

Well, tighter than a nun's proverbial,

but we will scrape through.

Yeah? The smart money says you fellas are going down.

Is that right?

OK, smart money, five grand?

Done.

The gruesome discovery

has sent shock waves through corridors of power the world over.

Allie Black reports.

It was to this disused warehouse in Sydney's inner west...

Ooh, hello.

..police allege Professor Murray lured his victim,

West Australian solicitor Sebastian Carey,

after first making contact with him in an internet chat room.

How could the Government possibly have known

that Professor Murray was a cannibal?

He's been a key economic advisor

for the past two federal governments,

two Wall Street banks, three major European...

Morning, children! Ciao, Cleave!

But isn't it the case

that the Government based its latest financial regulatory strategy

on a report written by a psychopath?

Might I remind the people of this great and prosperous State

that our adoption of the recommendations

in Professor Murray's report

were backed not only by Moody's and Standard & Poor's,

but also by the Opposition.

Now, Professor Murray was engaged as an economist.

What he does in his...

..his spare time is...

That's...that's another matter entirely.

I won't be taking any more questions on this. Thank you.

You're fucking kidding me!

What do you mean, there's no law against cannibalism in this State?

Well, just that, really. There's no law against cannibalism.

This psychopath has made a laughing-stock out of us.

It's not as if there weren't a few titters out there already.

Get some charges laid, some serious charges.

Get him on trial, alright?

We cannot look soft on this prick. It's an election year!

Colleen, how are we?

Oh. Hey!

Morning.

Nicole, Nicolissima.

What's the legal position?

We're homeless again. What?

Mr Barracliffe's coming back earlier than anticipated.

How much earlier? Quite a bit earlier, I'm afraid.

Mrs Barracliffe's broken her leg.

Well, he's only been gone two weeks.

He told me we could have the place for four months.

What sort of sabbatical do you call that?

It was day one on the slopes, apparently —

something about her being piste or off-piste.

Well, they've got surgeons in France, don't they?

They've got hospitals,

a tres bon health care system, I'm led to understand.

Nevertheless...

You want me to start calling around, find another room?

Yeah.

- You have a mention at 10:00. - Yeah.

Yes. Mr Potter.

Your Honour, we'd ask that the subpoena be answered

or the respondent held in contempt.

It simply beggars belief

that the only files apparently lost by the respondent

are those being sought by the Taxation Office.

Mr Greene.

I couldn't agree more with my friend, Your Honour.

It is indeed an extraordinary coincidence.

But the truth is I am simply a victim of the weather.

Owing to a torrential storm

that was raging over the eastern suburbs of Sydney that day,

the removalists I'd engaged

attempted to rush through what should have been a painstaking task.

A number of my boxes suffered water damage.

Relevant diaries and files relating to my financial affairs were lost,

as well as cherished personal items.

Um, I'm assured that affidavits from the removalists are forthcoming

and so I'd ask Your Honour for an adjournment.

Mr Potter.

Our submission respectfully stands, Your Honour.

The Tax Office has been more than patient with Mr Greene.

We'll hold it over until the...26th.

May it please the court.

Thank you, Your Honour.

What's up, Harry?

Removalists and rain-damaged boxes...

I mean, how long do you really think you can keep this going?

Harry, there's nothing I'd like more than to have my boxes back.

They would exonerate me in an instant.

Bullshit. Language, please.

My father here has a very delicate sensibility.

And lay off the ‘Harry' crap. It's starting to get around.

Are you coming Thursday night? Yeah, mate, we'll be there.

OK, see you then, Barn.

See you, Harry. Oh, sorry, Dave.

See you, Harry. Sorry, David.

And I'll see you on the 26th, Cleaver.

Sure thing, Harry. Sorry, David.

Why are you getting chummy with the oily tick trying to bankrupt me?

Because I'm with him, mate. You should pay your taxes.

I don't see why I should support your lifestyle

any more than I do already.

Shut up.

And in your internet posts,

you were clear about your intentions?

This is the text of the message, Don.

“Is there anyone out there who would like to be eaten?”

On the second page, you'll find the deceased's response.

“I want to be eaten.”

Right. So you still deny the murder charge, Professor Murray?

Of course.

I'm not a murderer.

Tell us about the night in question.

He arrived at 8:00.

I'd bought a bottle of Krug so we drank a toast.

While I was busy making preparations in the kitchen

he consumed a large number of sleeping pills.

A little while after that, he passed out.

And moments later, he was dead.

I proceeded to dismember him.

Over the course of the next three weeks, I ate most of his remains.

Where was your wife at this time?

At home.

She knew nothing about it.

Have you seen her? They won't let me talk to her.

I'm worried. I'm worried. I think she might be a little upset.

There is that possibility. Yes.

Can you get a message to her?

What would you like to say?

I want you to tell her not to worry...

..that we can get through this.

Every marriage has its ups and downs.

My name is Sebastian Vincent Carey.

My address is 27 Holroyd Place, Perth,

in the State of Western Australia.

I am a maritime lawyer employed by the firm Russell & Garland.