Hi, we're not here. Leave a message.
Elena, you gotta talk to me.
Last call. Last call.
Why is she such a pain in the ass?
- Excuse me. - Hey, pal.
It's all right. One more, please.
- Save some for the rest of the customers. - Pour it!
- You ain't getting behind a wheel. - There's a cab picking me up.
I'm looking you in the eye, Gus. I'm not driving a car tonight.
Bite me.
Yeah... Coffee.
- What's with the hand? - Just a scratch.
Give me some eggs, will you?
- Can I get a scrapple with that? - You can get anything you want.
Oh, God!
Oh, God. Oh!
When you walk through the garden
You gotta watch your back
Well, I beg your pardon
Walk the straight and narrow track
If you walk with Jesus
He's gonna save your soul
You gotta keep the devil
Way down in the hole
He's got the fire and the fury
At his command
Well, you don't have to worry
If you hold on to Jesus' hand
We'll all be safe from Satan
When the thunder rolls
We just gotta keep the devil
Way down in the hole
Down in the hole
You gotta help me keep the devil
Down in the hole
Watch your back!
What are you doing up there?
Look at him, all high and mighty.
You ain't gonna let that shit ride, after what he did?
I'd truck his ass, if it was me.
He's built kind of solid, though.
Maui ain't all that. It's the clothes that give him size, Zig.
- You think? - His ass is candy, Zig.
You, you're a legend of the docks.
Truck him with your best punch and then just walk the fuck away.
Officially, we're on the hook for 14 open homicides.
So either we bring in a hell of a case... or I'm as big a fool as Rawls thinks I am.
That sounded a little desperate.
Not entirely.
Lester, enlighten Ms. Pearlman as to the status of our investigation.
You said this case needed a drug connect for a wiretap, right?
Come take a look at this.
That's the DNR log on the phone listed to the warehouse
where we tracked the suspect container.
It has calls to numbers that connect to Petey Dixon,
Proposition Joe Stewart, and "White Mike" McArdle, among other traffickers.
Which supports surveillance of dealers visiting the warehouse.
Also some surveillance shots and mug shot photos from Southeast DEU,
which tie White Mike to street dealers that we've made buys from.
That's one tap on the warehouse phone.
- What's your PC on the truck driver? - Sergei Malatov.
Resident alien, Ukrainian origin. No criminal history here.
We ID'd him from the truck rental.
He gave the rental people his cell phone number.
And records show a call to the warehouse
at the time Kima observed him using the cell phone.
Checking the DNR log, we matched seven calls from that cell phone
to times when a container disappeared from a Talco ship.
Anything else? Tap two feels a bit thin.
How about Nicholas Sobotka of the 1400 block on Reynolds Street?
On a CI's information,
Herc and Carver followed him from a drug meet back to his parents' home.
When we ran that number through the DNR at our warehouse, we got nothing,
but when we checked it against the cell phone of Sergei...
- we got a couple of hits. - Sobotka's your stated target?
This is his nephew.
From the look of it, he's involved in street dealing and smuggling.
But this case feels like a lot more than Frank Sobotka.
- No offense to Stan Valchek. - OK.
I admit, you've got PC.
On the warehouse phone and the trucker's cell phone.
- What have you got for exhaustion? - Any informants?
- Nothing on the docks. - No one we can buy weight with.
- Surveillance? - It won't get us inside their warehouse.
Start typing. I'll call the judge.
Ham and cheese sandwich, and one of them Frappuccino drinks.
- I mean, Charles lost a leg, man. - What?
Frappuccino? What the fuck is that?
- He's all pussy, Zig. Cold cock him. - Take him, Zig. Now's the time.
Yeah, well, he was talking. Talking about how that job's going to be a big thing.
What do you know? The pissant's got some grapes on him.
Banana, too.
Ziggy, what are you doing?
Fucking shit!
Oh, shit!
- Take us up. - Son of a bitch! Goddamn!
Fuck you!
You big, stupid, fucking oaf! Fuck you, Maui.
You're the fucking wimp.
No, fuck you, Maui!
Aaargh!
- Stay there. - Fuck you!
God damn it!
Any of you fucks try to help him down, you'll be up there with him.
Bad advice! You motherfuckers gave me bad advice!
You!
Oh, shit.
- What the hell are you wearing? - No one mentioned all the perks.
Lacrosse?
What? A brother can't run with a stick? Jim Brown was an all-American midfielder.
You putting yourself beside Jim Brown?
Lester, I'm just saying...
I thought you were born in pinstripes.
Lieutenant, I thought that when detailed against his will
to some backwards-ass, no-count, out-in-the-districts,
lost-ball-in-tall-grass drug investigation,
a veteran police of means and talent can wear whatever the fuck he pleases.
Up to a point.
- Nice shot. - Thank you.
Hell of a thing, to take a downtown police and lose him in a cross-town world.
- Take that one there. - I'm homesick already.
I don't know what you're laughing at. You can kiss my ass.
You should see what your boy tried to pull today.
Fucking Ziggy.
- What are you looking for? - The fucking bills. End of the month.
- We got anything for the Greeks? - Wednesday, the Caspia at Patapsco.
Nicky'll get the slips tomorrow.
No wonder I couldn't find them. You used them as bookmarks.
Ooh.
Let me ask you something important.
You like fake tits? I can't decide.
Thus far, I'm undecided on fake tits.
I thought I knew what paperwork was,
but what you all go through, to listen to someone else's phone calls...
You all cannot spell for shit.
Would we be police if we could?
- Who's the duty judge? - Vanderwal.
- You think he'll sign? - Sure, if you clean his garage.
Or wash his windows, maybe.
Fucking Vanderwal.
Wash windows?
Yeah.
- Are these the affiants, Miss Pearlman? - Yes, Your Honor.
Will you affirm that the information offered in this affidavit is entirely true?
Yes, Your Honor.
- Yes, Your Honor. - Absolutely.
Upstairs, gentlemen. Third floor, back bedroom.
Sash installation.
And then if you can give the windows a wash... Thank you.
It's a good thing I took the sergeant's test.
- Fuck. Come on, man! - Sorry.
- First name? - First name, Francis.
Spell the last name on the account.
S-O-B-O-T-K-A.
- Yeah. It's a business address. - You've been flagged.
- Flagged? - It says right here on the computer.
Yeah? You're kidding me.
I don't have anymore information on that. Send in your payment.
Whenever, OK.
- The check's on its way. Cross my heart. - All right, Mr. Sobotka. Take care.
If you don't pay your phone bill for three months, what happens?
- No phone. - OK.
So I'm 90 days late on my cell phone, but they let me go,
even before I mail the check.
I ask the nice lady why that is. You know what she says?
- I've been flagged. - Flagged?
She says it's on the computer screen,
"Do not disconnect for non-payment."
"Flagged", what the fuck is that? What am I, special?
Maybe you been touched by an angel.
Told you, B. Tumbleweeds be blowing through this motherfucker.
- Like the fiends cleaned themselves up. - No, that ain't it, man.
Word is out, we just selling dogshit up in here, man.
Damn.
- Pud...how we doing? - Slow as a white man in slippers.
All right, later.
We dying cos these fiends done found the real someplace else.
It's that bullshit, man.
Hey. You two got a reason to be here?
- We're just going about our business. - Keep moving.
Fake-ass police. Where he get that uniform at? Kmart?
He wouldn't even be all chest-out if we had some people up in this bitch.
Shit is fucked up, man.
Mm.
Damn, junior, you had a night. Even for a legendary motherfucker like yourself...
Drop it.
What the fuck is wrong with you, man?
Cos Elena didn't open up the door for your ass,
you just gonna let all this shit fly out, huh?
Come on, Jimmy. Lighten up.
Come and get me.
You guys going for a wiretap on that port case?
Uh-huh.
They got every swinging dick with a shield on that detail but me.
You jealous, bitch?
I'd rather be back in Homicide.
I'd take your place in a heartbeat.
Why?
That floater showing up in your dreams?
No, it's not just her.
Who am I, Captain Chesapeake? I need to get off that boat, Bunk.
I need to do a case.
I mean, if I'm not gonna...
If I'm no good for...
If that's all you want, just go and ask Rawls.
- He'll put you on this straightaway. - Yeah, why wouldn't he?
Well...
Ah, Jimmy.
After which I tell Horse to go down the Southeast lot
and steal the most expensive thing he can drive, which he does.
We box it up and ship it to every port you can name.
Where is it now?
Between New Orleans and the West Coast.
How's that for your kid brother?
You said you were gonna bring something over?
Just this.
Read it.
- What is it? - A confirmation letter, like.
You know that labor position on the Port Advisory Board?
I put you up for it. You're on.
I'm on? I ain't been union since they closed the dry dock. How come I'm on?
The board chair and me, we got a relationship.
You mean, you greased it.
The chairman thought you'd be right for it is all.
There's a stipend comes with it. Couple hundred a month, Lou.
When I get home at night, I just wanna watch a ball game or something.
I'm not up to go to no meetings or anything.
Christ, Lou, you don't gotta go to all the meetings.
Show up once in a while, let 'em know you're alive.
- That's not for me. - What's for you?
That shitwagon parked out front needs a battery?
Or this kitchen that's been the same way for 25 years?
Whatever I got comes straight.
- That's real noble, big brother. - Not noble. Right.
The Shipbuilders' local goes belly-up and that makes you a martyr?
The only difference between us is you picked the wrong union.
That ain't the only difference.
- If you were in my position... - I'm not.
To tell you the truth, I'm glad I don't have to make those kind of choices.
Come on, kid. Sit down.
You really raced pigeons with my Pepop?
We all did back then.
I gave one to a seaman on a Dutch tanker one time.
He set her loose in the middle of the ocean.
She found her way back to Hull Street.
Which is more than I can say about your grandfather when he was in the bag.
How come they don't fly away?
His wings are clipped.
How much for this one, Mr. Diz?
Start out with pigeons, Zig. You can train pigeons.
Them things got lice.
They bring the plague, for Christ's sakes.
Thanks, Mr. Diz.
- I tried. Rawls hates his guts. - With reasons.
But Jimmy's dying inside. He's a train wreck unless he catches a real case.
- But good police. - Always.
The thing of it is, Lieutenant...
Jimmy McNulty, when he ain't policing...
he's a picture postcard of a drunken, self-destructive fuck-up.
And when he is policing... he's pretty much the same motherfucker.
But on a good case, he's running in front of the pack.
That's as close as the man comes to being right.
Go back to Rawls.
So I get paid?
Yeah. But you don't get paid, we get paid.
Why don't they leave me out of it?
We need someone to be registered Confidential Informant 238.
We get you registered, we get paid.
- You send my picture... - And your Social Security number.
And they give me money which you keep.
Cuz, did you do anything to deserve the money?
- Did you? - Yeah, we cracked the case wide open.
We brought back significant information about a major drug trafficker.
But that's your fucking job. You get a salary for that.
Bernard, you're upsetting my partner. What are you doing?
Ten percent. Ten percent goes to me and I don't tell.
You don't tell because your ma and my ma are sisters. That's why you don't tell.
We won't use your real name. You'll be registered as Fuzzy Dunlop.
- Fuzzy Dunlop? - Yeah.
Ten percent.
Wonderful. Now I'm in business with the whole fucking family.
It's payday, Zig. Once again.
All that, huh?
We're rolling out there. I can't hand this shit off fast enough.
- Nice sled you got. - Zero percent interest. Money's cheap.
Money's cheap? What does that mean?
It means I got a good deal, you peckerhead.
You ought to get some fresh wheels yourself.
Yeah, I'm gonna do that.
You're gonna get a car, you're gonna need some jack.
Worry about yourself.
I heard you took on Maui.
- Boy needed to get schooled. - Are you some kind of badass now?
- Yeah, it's me. - Niko, things OK?
- Things are great. - If you need more, talk to Sergei.
I gotta see you soon.
- I'll call you back in a few. - OK.
Is that the man?
- Don't concern yourself... - I wanna meet him.
Let me handle the business. You're getting paid, right?
Fuck you! I'll play the game for myself.
- Take the money, Zig. - You don't think I can do it?
Pick up the fucking money, Ziggy.
- I don't want it. You pick it up. - You.
Fuck you.
I was wondering about the La-Z-Boy chairs I ordered.
- How many? - Three.
Your order's in.
Yes.
- It's Nick. - How's it going?
I'm ready to talk about more. Say where and when.
I'll call you back.
- Not as careful as Barksdale's people. - This ain't West Baltimore.
They are on their phones because they don't expect us to be on them.
Let me shorten this conversation. It's never gonna happen.
McNulty goes after it. I could use him.
And I could use three more inches of meat. It ain't gonna happen.
You ever see how a dog gets when he smells a bone buried?
Yeah, and I seen one take a shit on my carpet, too.
Don't give me that "He's got fire in the belly" garbage, either.
The answer is no.
What I need from you, I get.
- No bullshit, no arguments. - What?
When I agreed to take these murders, I made my terms clear, remember?
I need McNulty on this detail.
Jesus! When I said anything, I meant I'd let you have a kiss,
feel my tits or something, you know?
But not this.
You want me to clear those bodies?
See that you do.
Who they?
They might be some CBS boys from down south.
- Or might be some of Tavon's crew. - This far over?
I know one thing, though.
- What? - They serving our customers.
- Marine unit, Diggins. - I'm looking for McNulty.
McNulty, for you.
Yeah.
It's Daniels... Get back to the office.
I went and passed on the detail. You've been evicted.
Thanks, Lieutenant.
- Fuzzy Dunlop? - It's the new generation, with the names...
150? Jesus.
He turned us onto the Sobotka kid, Lieutenant.
This is the other half of the case.
Three apartments, all leased out to Pyramid Inc.
The people who own the drug warehouse.
Is this where the girls are staying?
No. The building's too nice. Room and board.
This is for the johns. Makes them feel safer.
- How do they bring them in? Lobby? - Garage, probably.
Either they have a garage card or they're brought in by someone who does.
You get that piece and you're in.
If they're connected to the drug runners,
you can knock off the brothel and then listen in on your wiretaps.
- Tickle the wire like that. - Exactly.
Pleasure boats, topless women.
- I'm telling you, now the weather's turned... - I gotta roll, Diggsy.
Thanks.
We ain't been paid since yesterday. The day before that.
What the fuck? Come on, dawg, are we back up?
We up, but we ain't in it.
What we got can't stand up to what they moving.
Boy, we about to dry up and blow away.
- I ain't got nothing for you. - How you gonna act like that?
Look, I feel you, but I still gotta let you go so...
At least we get some of that separation pay, right?
Man, you better go on before I lose my composure out this bitch.
These motherfuckers. Separation pay.
Separate your ass.
Hey!
Assumption one is the people running the girls
and the people running the drugs are the same.
Assumption two is that those apartments are a cathouse with those Russian girls.
You have to get someone in there undercover to make the case.
I'm thinking we need a more subtle touch here.
I'd march into hell for you, Lieutenant. You know that.
He doesn't look like he'd have to pay.
- Kima? - Sorry, no. Domestic issues at home.
Same for me.
Nadine would have them in a jar by the side of the bed.
- What? - Takes a whore to catch a whore.
What the fuck did I do?
Give me a couple of beers, Dolores. Look at this.
- I say, look at this. - Dolores, is that you?
Hey. Dolores, I'd like you to meet my attorney. This is Steven L. Miles.
Now, I may not be able to see through all the bullshit in here, but he can.
So, if you will, I'd like a stiff one for myself and one for my counselor.
- Tell me he's a fake. - That'd be lying.
- Is they real diamonds around its neck? - You sick, boy. You just sick.
Like I'm the only guy in South Baltimore
that ever tried to win the affections of a farm animal?
Enough talk. Now chop-chop.
I'd like one for the house and don't forget to water my fine, feathered friend here.
If it's for the duck, the next round is on me.
Easy, there, sweetheart. We're gonna need a saucer.
Put some beer in it. He needs a chaser.
Put it on my tab, Dolores.
Pace yourself. You're drinking with the longshoremen tonight.
That look right to you?
Same truck as carried the girls, same mope driving.
What about the passenger?
Looks the part to me.
Container ship on the Talco line, name of Caspia, docks tomorrow AM.
Our man Horseface on it?
I'll call the Lieutenant, let him know we gotta set up on this.
This time, though, we got the wire up. Eyes and ears both.
There goes the shuttle.
What's he waiting on?
Getting himself all steeled up to tell some tales.
Lying to the wife's easy. It's looking your kid in the eye that's the hard part.
Police!
Let's see your license.
"Robert Johnson." You believe that?
Bob, I'm very disappointed in you. Wanna go home, Bob?
Suppose a lonely fellow wants to meet a nice young lady in this town.
How does he go about it?
Uh...he'd dial that phone number.
- Dial the number. What else? - Punch in those four numbers there.
- And? - Ask for Eve.
- What? - Ask for Eve.
Go on, go home.
Godspeed, Bob.
- Johnson. - My ticket to the dance.
Here we go. We got one.
12-14, Kima. We got a disappeared can just hit the chassis.
Affirmative. I'll eyeball it to the gate.
- Raise our boys. - Right.
- What's Kima rolling as? - Gas and electric.
- Yes? - Everything's good.
- You coming in now? - Yes.
White DAC truck coming at you pulling a red can.
Serial Number: X-W-B, as in "Boy",
C-1-5-7-7-2-6-8.
- Driver: white male with brown hair. Copy? - Copy.
I'm out of this as soon as he clears the gate. The van has too much profile.
Copy that, too. We're up.
- Broken seal? - Hey, Frank.
- What's missing? - Nothing. Can's full of diapers.
- Diapers? - Disposables, yeah.
Not even your crew would steal Pampers off the dock, right?
I'm not so sure.
Customs seal probably just broke on the off-load, is all.
When's Bea coming back from Fairfield?
Who, Beadie? She's not down Fairfield.
Don't you worry. Your girl will be back soon.
- Yeah? - She's detailed. The city police.
All right, we're up.
- I'm out. You have the eyeball. - 12-08, copy that.
First I got this thing on my phone bill.
- Now Bea Russell's with real police. - You're paranoid, Frank.
- Why would she lie? - Shit if I know.
- The Greek has two today. - Boris comes back in an hour.
The second can's in a lower bay ready to off-load when I get to it.
Check that can through straight up. You got it?
Enter it on the computer, like any other. Make the one after it disappear.
- You want me to lose a clean can? - Give it to the Russian.
You gonna tell 'em?
If I'm nuts, we'll slip the hot can off the pier tomorrow.
If I'm right about this, they'll thank me.
And, Horse, make sure nobody's livin' in that can.
I know. I know.
We got something here.
Another disappeared can just hit the chassis.
They're running them out in tandem.
- That means "one after the other." - I know.
12-08. Carver, what's the status of your truck?
Left the can at the warehouse and rolled out.
- You want us on the truck or the can? - The can.
Copy.
- I got no eyes at the port. - Kima?
- She pulled up. - I got it.
- The truck left. You won't make it. - I'll call the MPA, delay the truck.
Do it. Are you still here?
Good call.
License and registration, please. You were doing 24 in a 20 zone.
- You stop for 24? - License and registration.
Christ, I wish we had a tap on the port office phone.
I just wanted to give you a heads-up.
That last little item we sent out is wrong. I knew it was wrong when I let it go.
Not on the phone, Frank.
OK, but this time he needs to be there.
In fact, he wants to be there to hear this shit.
Go ahead, open it.
Bobbie Dolls.
What the fuck is this bullshit, eh?
I am waiting for Russian vodka and you bring me trash from Taiwan.
Give me your phone. Fucking Polacks.
Are they thieves or are they stupid?
He's dialling the same number.
- It came, but it's nothing. - It's bullshit.
I was expecting this. Just...just get rid of it.
Get rid of it where?
Just drop it in the fucking street.
- This is sweet. - The boss man.
And we're on him.
- Seven in the morning? - What the fuck do you think?
We gotta be there when they come on.
Shit is early.
Y'all down for this? I can find me some motherfuckers to swing bats for me.
You didn't say nothing about no bats. All right.
That's what the fuck I'm talking about. Bring your boys.
- Hey, Poot. - Yo, Poot.
Come on, man. Come on.
Goddamn, you's a pussy-crazed motherfucker.
A nigger can't look at a female?
- Yeah, but you be getting dizzy. - At least I be getting some.
Well, I be getting some, too. But I don't make it my everything.
Lieutenant, you still up?
I'm here.
This second can doesn't make sense.
He went to ground at an appliance store off Eastern. Now he's dumping it.
10-4. Go home.
- You don't wanna sit on the can? - Negative. The can is clean.
I don't know, Uncle Frank.
Putting two and two together, and coming up with six, maybe?
- Maybe. - You called Spiros still, right?
Spiros will know what to do.
Come past early tomorrow. I wanna get down the diner first thing.
All right.
- I can't keep up with him. - What's with the duck?
Ziggy.
- Daniels around? - No.
- What's the deal with can number two? - No contraband.
Heard them complaining about it on the wire. Somebody fucked up.
The fact is, they even called the boss man about it.
That's a good day. You going for a taste?
No, I'm gonna chase the paperwork.
I gotta spring the sitter. But for a ride home, I'll go for a quick beer.
- More than one, I get sleepy. - Yeah, me, too.
- What, you short a car? - Need new brake pads.
OK.
Two. Boys.
- How about you? - Um...boy and a girl.
And your husband... None of my business, but did he die or something?
You mean cos no one would leave a beauty like me unless he kicked?
- I was just asking. - He left me... Left us.
Picked up, moved south.
Said it was either my job or him.
That I was neglecting my duties around the house, all that.
Said he didn't get married to cook his own dinner.
Anyway, he's cooking his own dinner now.
What about with you and your wife? What happened?
She died.
- Not now, Gus. I'm good. - Whatever you say, Jimmy.
- So, you about ready to go? - Sure.
Be right back. I just gotta make a call.
Please enter your code now.
- Hi, may I help you? - Yeah, let me talk to Eve.
- This is Eve. - I'm looking to connect.
Would you like a date tonight?
No, not tonight. I'm back in town in a couple of nights.
Have you been entertained by us before?
- No, first time for me. - We can arrange whatever you like.
What kind of a girl are you looking for?
We have a variety for you to choose from when you arrive. When are you coming?
Uh...just give me a minute.
Hi. Choose a game.
Can you guess this word?
Hi. Choose a game.
Can you guess this word?
Stop! Move away from the cookie jar.
Hi. Choose a game.
Can you guess this word?
Hi. Choose a game.
Can you guess this word?
Long day.
Yeah, me, too.
Thanks for the beer.
Goodbye.
Hey, y'all, they coming.
What these motherfuckers think they looking at?
Nigger, you done lost your motherfuckin' mind.
- You standing on my real estate. - Mine now.
- Took it while you was resting. - Y'all too late.
Look, I'm gonna let you walk off, or we could do it the other way.
Who you got to do it the other way? Them?
- You gonna see me in your sleep. - Yeah, I know. I know.
That's right. Keep walking, bitch.
They gonna come back.
Yeah. The way we just punked them, they got to.
- Where is he? - You can talk to me, Frank.
- This is bigger than you. - I'll tell him.
Bullshit. Come on, Nick.
That's the Greek? That old guy? I seen him in here before.
Have a seat.
A long time since we talk, eh, Frank?
- Coffee, something? - We're good.
What's on your mind?
Every goddamn thing.
For one, I think my cell phone's being tapped.
The phone company don't care if I pay my bills anymore.
I hear that our regular port cop, who found your girls,
she got pulled off to work with the city police.
- So you switched the can. - I ran a test.
I gave you that clean one, put yours in the stacks.
The MPA cops stop that Russian's truck, right after he picked it up.
- I think someone's got into our computer. - Very smart.
As soon as you called, I shut down the warehouse.
That's fine. But now we have to open the warehouse again.
Lose a few more clean cans, deliver them there.
If someone's watching, show them we have nothing to hide.
- Our cut stays the same though, right? - You kidding?
What's your name?
- Nick. - Sobotka.
Oh.
That's a fair question, Niko.
But it has to be the same for everyone - no work, no pay.
Whatever's in the cans, we still gotta check them. That's work.
- We take gas, so do you. - You don't understand...
I understand. No one is in this for love.
It ain't just the money.
I got things happening right now. Things with my union. Right now!
Not a fucking month from now, when the legislative session is history. Now!
OK. We'll pay you still.
I'm thinking of all the business we do in the future
and I want you should be happy.
Thanks.
It's a new world, Frank.
You should go out and spend some money on something you can touch -
a new car, a new coat.
It's why we get up in the morning, huh?