In early 1999, detectives investigating the August 1998 murders of Sergeant Gary Silk and Rod Miller in Cochranes Rd Moorabbin received information that Torney had a car at a country property with a damaged tail-gate, the impact of a bullet according to their informer.

The Lorimer Taskforce charged with investigating the double murder were seeking a small, dark coloured car with similar damage.

Torney kept his lair a secret.

Not even his probation officer, Wendy Droney, knew his address.

The pair would convene for scheduled meetings, only for Torney to slip back into oblivion.

The car in question was a dark green Subaru hatch which was one of several cars he kept at his brother's property near Castlemaine.

The car was ruled out but Torney, and his whereabouts climbed to a priority and caused investigator Steve Beanland to break police etiquette.

He tried to convince Torney's probation officer to tell him when she was next meeting with Torney and asked her if he could come along to speak to him.

But the best Beanland could wrangle was to entrust a business card with Droney.

His crew's mobile number was on it.

"Tell him to call me as soon as he can."

"I'll do what I can," said Droney, shaking her head.

On February 10, 1999, Beanland made another bid to track down Torney.

The lead was Nat Fratino, a hot-car salesman who operated around Carlton.

Word was Fratino had Torney for a client, or supplier, but the only crook to lob in that period was an old-timer named Aubrey Broughill.

Also known as the 'Beanie Bandit', he and Fratino were in the business of pinching cars to order but in terms of the Silk-Miller shootings and Torney, the avenue of investigation led nowhere.

In the middle of all this runaround Beanland's mobile started beeping. "Betcha thought I'd never ring," said a familiar voice.

"I wasn't holding my breath, put it that way."

"What the fuck you after?" said Torney.

Beanland played it straight. "We're making inquiries about the Silk and Miller murders."

"Why'd you be asking me? Don't know nuffin' about it."

"Got nothing to hide, Lee, why not tell us where you're living?"

"Dream on pal."

"You're not involved. Let's get your statement."

"I'll think about it."

"How 'bout we put an end to all this chasing bullshit?"

The line was dead.

In early March 1999, Beanland and Detective Senior Constable Joe D'Alo were diving around Melbourne's western suburbs buring their hunt for Torney.

They turned off Ballarat Rd towards an old munitions factory.

They were looking for an address in Maribyrnong.

The latest route to Torney's door was via another crook, Thomas Hentschell.

Hentschell would later be a man of extreme interest to Purana taskforce detectives investigating Melbourne's gangland war.

A dangerous character, Hentschell had not long been released from prison for a brutal rape.

Since jail, he'd been minding a storage facility in South Melbourne that burnt to the ground in suspect circumstances.

Now he was moving from flat to flat to keep one step ahead of police.

His latest residence was reportedly in Maribyrnong, in the one time apartment of Torney's girlfriend.

But nobody was home. The two detectives parked their unmarked car across the street.

The cops excuse to chat with Hentschell was a large scale burglary on a second storage facility, again in South Melbourne. Hentschell, it was said, had retained the keys after his sacking.

A door opened. It was Hentschell and the detectives approached and spoke to the professor looking criminal with lank hair and thick spectacles.

He had a set of keys. One fitted a car around the block, a brand new Ford ripped off from the very same burg in South Melbourne.

Hentschell was driven to South Melbourne CIB. He was granted bail and returned to the streets - with a surveillance crew on his tail - police hoping he would lead them to Torney.

Hentschell kept busy through the night.

From midnight onward, he dropped by several addresses.

While Torney was never sighted the dogs obtained reams of fresh intelligence.

The log of addresses was checked off the next day and Torney's crib was discovered, a battered weatherboard box in outer Footscray.

A few more stolen cars were scattered about the neighbourhood.

A full-time watch was placed on 3 Fontein St, Tottenham, for the next ten days.

A few days later the crew's mobile rang.

"G'day, I'm on my way to your place in Traralgon, I've been fishing."

The detective who took the call recognised the voice. It was Torney. By mistake he must have rang the Lorimer number he'd received during his probation visit, and he quickly hung up.

On March 20, 1999, the Lorimer crew were in the midst of arranging a raid on Torney's home when they received a call from Sale CIB.

Earlier that morning the Special Operations Group had swooped on Torney and his pal, Matthew Stella, in a deep forest in Licola, where a $20,000 dope crop was in full bud.

Torney and Stella had arrived at the plantation while police were surveying the area.

"Get on the ground now!" yelled the SOG sergeant, gun drawn.

Stella dropped like a stone. Not Torney.

His hand slipped to his waist.

Tucked in his pocked was a 9 millimetre pistol with a telescopic sight.

"Now," yelled the sergeant.

Torney showed his palms and dropped to his knees as SOG snipers in the underbrush aimed at his head.

Computer prompts told the Sale detectives that the Lorimer crew were looking for Torney and the task force was contacted immediately.

Two Lorimer detectives drove to Sale and returned with Torney the following day.

A formal interview was arranged once Fontein St had been searched.

The ramshackle home contained a shipping container load of firearms and stolen goods.

In every room lay a gun ready to shoot at intruders.

Cradles above the shower recess was an Uzi machine-gun, oiled and loaded.

There were three new motorbikes, a brand new Toyota Rav-4, a Nissan Patrol, a Land Cruiser, Chesterfield lounge suites, washing machines, computers, stun guns, radio scanners and fifty Persian rugs.

Most of this haul was linked to the South Melbourne warehouse job.

The inventory took up 36 pages, including bomb recipes and diagrams of a gully in Licola - every treasure except a signpost to the Silk-Miller killings.

In fact, Torney refused to give a statement regarding Cochranes Road. Never trust nothing with a cop, he reckoned, and that included the dotted line.

So with no alibi to test, the taskforce were powerless to rule Torney out.

Not that they had anything concrete in the first place.

The only hint was an informer's opinion and he was the same snitch who had got it wrong with Peter Gibb.

Torney stayed stubborn, and Lorimer kept guessing.

The crew had no choice but to let the Sale and South Melbourne boys deal with him, as one more homicide suspect withered on the vine.

Williams made it known to associates he wanted the Morans dead and approached friend Lee Torney to kill both.

An informer known only as Mr X told police it was rumoured Torney had done other murders for Williams, but tossed a spanner in the works by getting arrested over the drug crop and was unable to take on the Moran contracts.