Hi, we're not here. Leave a message.
Elena, you gotta talk to me.
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 other customers, okay? - Pour it!
- You ain't getting behind the wheel, right? - There's a cab picking me up.
I'm looking you in the eye, Gus. I'm telling you, I'm not driving a car tonight.
Bite me.
Yeah, coffee.
- What's with the hand? - Just a scratch.
Get me some eggs, will you?
- Can I get a scrapple with that? - You can get anything you want.
Oh, God!
Look at him, all high and mighty.
You ain't gonna let that shit ride, are you? 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 the legend of the docks.
Truck him with your best punch and then just walk the fuck away.
Officially, I've put us 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 Col. Rawls thinks I am.
That sounded a little desperate.
Not entirely.
Lester, enlighten Miss 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 shows outgoing calls to numbers that connect to Petey Dixon...
Proposition Joe Stewart, and "White Mike" McArdle...
among other traffickers on the East Side.
Which supports surveillance of known dealers coming and leaving the warehouse.
Also, some surveillance shots and matching mug shot photos...
from Southeast DEU, which tie White Mike to street dealers...
that we've already made controlled buys from.
Assuming exhaustion, 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 contract on the DAC truck rental.
He was nice enough to give the truck rental people his cell number.
And phone records show a call placed to the warehouse...
at the time Kima observed him on the docks using the cellphone.
Checking the DNR log's history...
we matched seven other calls from that cellphone...
to dates and times when a container disappeared from a Talco ship.
Anything else? Tap 2 feels a bit thin.
How about Nicholas Sobotka of the 1400th block on Reynolds Street?
On a CI's information, Herc and Carver followed him...
from a drug meet along the Fayette Street strip...
back to his parents' South Baltimore row home.
When we ran that phone number from that address...
through the DNR at our warehouse, we got nothing.
But when we checked it against the cellphone of our friend, Sergei...
- we got a couple of hits. - Sobotka's your stated target, right?
This is a nephew, and from the look of it...
he's involved in street dealing as much as smuggling.
But right now, this case feels like a lot more than Frank Sobotka.
- No offense to Stan Valchek. - Okay.
I admit, you've got PC.
On the warehouse phone and on the trucker's cellphone, too.
Now what have you got for exhaustion?
Any possible informants?
- Nothing on the docks. - No one we can buy weight with.
- Surveillance? - That got us to the front door...
but it's not gonna get us inside that warehouse.
Start typing. I'll call the judge.
Ham and cheese sandwich, and one of them Frappuccino drinks.
- I hear Charles lost his leg. - What?
Frappuccino? What the fuck is that?
He's all pussy, Zig. Cold cock him.
Take him, Zig. Now's the time.
What do you know? The pissant's got some grapes on him.
Banana, too.
Fucking shit!
- Take us up. - Son of a bitch! God damn it!
Fuck you!
You big, stupid, fucking oaf! Fuck you, Maui.
You're the fucking wimp.
No, fuck you, Maui!
- 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!
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 at Syracuse.
You putting yourself beside Jim Brown?
Lester, I'm just saying...
I thought you were born in pinstripes.
Lieutenant, I was under the impression 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 damn well pleases.
Up to a point.
- Nice shot. - Thank you.
It's a hell of a thing to take a downtown police and lose him in a cross-town world.
Take that one over 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? - Can't find the fucking bills.
- End of the month, everything's hanging. - We got anything for the Greeks?
Wednesday, the Caspia over at Patapsco. Nicky'll go get the slips tomorrow.
No wonder I couldn't find them. You use them as bookmarks.
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 this week? - Vanderwal.
You think he'll sign?
No problem, if you clean his garage first. Or wash his windows, maybe.
Fucking Vanderwal.
Wash windows?
- Are these the affiants, Miss Pearlman? - Yes, Your Honor.
Are you willing to affirm that the information offered in this affidavit...
is entirely true to the best of your knowledge?
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, my knee. - Sorry.
- First name? - First name: Francis.
Spell the last name on the account.
S-O-B-O-T-K-A.
Yeah, that's it. 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 any more information on that now.
Whatever, okay.
The check's on its way tomorrow. Cross my heart.
Horse, if you don't pay your phone bill for three months, what happens?
No phone.
Okay, so I'm 90 days late on my cellphone, but they let me go...
even before I mail the check in.
I ask the nice lady in the billing department why that is. You know what she says?
- I've been flagged. - Flagged?
She says it's on the computer when my account comes on:
"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 all cleaned themselves up. - No, that ain't it, man.
Word is out, we just selling dog shit up in here, man.
Damn.
- Pud, how we doing? - Slow as a white man in slippers.
All right, later.
We dying 'cause these dusty-ass fiends done found the real someplace else.
It's that bullshit, man.
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.
Damn, junior, you had a night.
Even for a legendary motherfucker like yourself--
Drop it.
What is wrong with you, man?
'Cause Elena didn't open up the door for your ass...
you just gonna let all this shit fly out?
Come on, Jimmy. Lighten up.
Come and get me.
So, you guys going for a wiretap on that port case?
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.
I mean, 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?
...after which I tell Horse to go down the southeast lot...
and steal the most expensive thing he can drive, which he does.
And we box it up and ship it to every port you can name.
Where is it now?
Somewhere 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 told you about?
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, he thought you'd be right for it, is all.
There's a stipend comes with it. $200 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.
Just show up once in a while, let them know you're alive.
That's not for me.
What's for you?
That shitwagon parked out front needs a battery.
Or this kitchen here has been rigged 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 some kind of martyr?
The only difference between me and you...
- 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 used to race 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.
Damned if she didn't find her way back to Hull Street.
Which, by the way, 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?
Why don't you start out with pigeons, Zig? You can train pigeons.
Them things got lice.
They bring the plague, for Christ's sake.
Thanks, Mr. Diz.
I tried. Rawls hates his guts.
- With reasons. - But the thing of it is, 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, you get paid, but you don't get paid. We get paid.
Why don't they give you the money and leave me out of it?
'Cause we need someone to be Confidential Informant Number 238...
registered with the department. We get you registered, we get paid.
- So you're gonna send my picture-- - And your social security number.
And they give me money which you keep, and I don't get nothing.
Cuz, did you do anything to deserve the money?
Did you?
Yeah, we cracked a fucking case wide open.
We brought back very significant information...
about a major drug trafficker. That's what we did.
But that's your fucking job, right? You get paid a salary for that.
Bernard, you're upsetting my partner, man. What are you doing?
10%.
10% 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're not even gonna use your real name.
You'll be registered as Fuzzy Dunlop, a street name.
10%.
Wonderful, now I'm in business with the whole fucking family.
It's payday, Zig. Once again.
All that?
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 the fuck does that mean?
It means I got a good deal, you peckerhead.
You should think of getting some new wheels yourself.
Yeah, I'm gonna do that.
You gonna get a car, you're gonna need some jack.
Worry about yourself.
I heard you took on Maui.
- Boy needed to get schooled. - What are you, some kind of badass now?
- Yeah, it's me. - Niko, things okay?
- Things are going great. - If you need more, talk to Sergei.
I gotta see you soon. I'll call you back in a few, all right?
Is that the man?
- You don't have to concern yourself-- - I wanna meet him.
Let me handle the business. I mean, 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. They come in yet?
- How many you ordered? - That'd be three.
Your order's in.
- Yes? - It's Nick.
How's it going?
I'm ready to talk about more, okay? You just say where and when.
I'll call you back.
- Not as careful as Barksdale's people were. - 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 for you: It's never gonna happen.
McNulty goes after it. I could use someone like 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 in the yard?
Yeah, and I seen one take a shit on my carpet, too.
And don't give me that he's-got-that-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 for you, I made my terms clear, remember?
I need McNulty on this detail.
Jesus, Lieutenant. 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 drifting from down south...
or might be some of Tavon's crew from over on Edmondson.
This far over?
I know one thing, though.
- What? - They're serving our customers.
- Marine unit, Diggins. - I'm looking for McNulty.
McNulty, for you.
It's Daniels...
Get back to your office.
Thanks, Lieutenant.
This new generation with the names...
$150? Jesus.
He turned us onto the Sobotka kid, Lieutenant.
This is the other half of the case, right here.
Three apartments on the sixth floor, all leased out to Pyramid, Inc...
the same people who own the drug warehouse.
Is this where the girls are staying? Or something more?
No, the building's too nice for room and board.
A building this nice is for the johns.
- Makes them feel safer. - How do they bring them in? The lobby?
- Garage, probably. - Either they have a garage card...
or they're being shuttled in by someone who does.
You get that piece and you're in. If the people running the girls...
are connected to the ones running the drugs...
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 be been paid since yesterday. - And the day before that.
What the fuck? Come on, dawg, are we back up or what?
We up, but we ain't in it.
What we got can't stand up to what they moving down the way, so...
Boy, we about to dry up and blow away, and shit.
Yo, man, 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 though, right?
Man, you better go on before I lose my composure out this bitch.
These motherfuckers. Separation pay.
Separate your ass.
Assumption number one is the people running the girls...
and the people running the drugs are the same crew.
Assumption number two is that the apartments in that condo...
are working as a cathouse with those Russian girls.
Which means you have to get someone in there undercover to make a 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.
- Sorry, no. Domestic issues at home. - Same for me.
Nadine would have them in a jar by the side of the bed...
if she even heard tell of it.
What?
Takes a whore to catch a whore.
What the fuck did I do?
Give me a couple beers, Dolores. Look at this.
I say, look at this.
Dolores, is that you?
Dolores, I'd like you to meet my attorney. This is Steven L. Miles.
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, hon.
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.
We're gonna need a saucer, hon. 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 a.m.
Our man Horseface on it?
I better 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?
Okay, suppose a lonely fellow wants to meet a nice young lady in this town.
How does he go about it?
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 on it right now.
Copy that, too. We're up.
- Broken seal? - Hey, Frank.
What's missing?
Nothing so as we can tell. Can's full of diapers.
- Diapers? - Disposables, yeah.
I'm thinking not even your crew would steal Pampers off the dock, right?
I'm not so sure.
Customs seal probably just broke on the offload, is all.
When's Bea Russell coming back from the Fairfield piers?
Who, Beadie? She's not down Fairfield.
Don't you worry, Frank. Your girl will be back soon enough.
- Yeah? - She's detailed.
Something to do with 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 I hear Bea Russell's doing some shit with real police.
You're paranoid, Frank.
- Why would she lie? - Shit if I know.
- The Greek has two today, right? - Boris comes back in an hour.
The second can's in a lower bay ready to offload when I get to it.
Check that can through straight up. You got it?
Enter it on the computer, like any other.
The next can after it, make that one disappear.
You want me to lose a clean can?
- And give it to the Russian, yeah. - You gonna tell them?
If I'm going nuts, I'll calm down tomorrow. We'll slip the hot can off the pier.
If I'm right about this, they'll thank me.
And, Horse, make sure nobody's living in that can when you stack it.
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," Jimmy. - I know what it means.
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.
But the truck already left. You won't make it.
I'll call the MPA, delay the truck.
Do it. You're still here?
Good call.
License and registration, please. You were doing 24 mph in a 20 mph zone.
- You stop for 24 mph? - 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, it's wrong.
I knew it was wrong when I let it go.
Not on the phone, Frank.
Okay, 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?
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 dialing the same number.
It came, but it's nothing.
It's bullshit.
I was expecting this. Just get rid of it.
Get rid of it where?
Drop it in the fucking street.
- This is sweet. - The boss man.
And we're on him.
- 7 a.m.? - Man, what the fuck do you think?
We gotta be there, in place, when they come on.
Shit is early.
Y'all down for this?
'Cause I can find me some motherfuckers to swing bats for me if I have to.
You didn't say nothing about no bats. All right.
That's the fuck I'm talking about. Bring your boys, too. 7:00.
- Hey, Poot. - Yo, Poot.
Come on, man.
God damn, you're a pussy-crazed motherfucker.
A nigger can't look at a female?
Yeah, but you be getting dizzy behind that shit.
- 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.
I'm still on this second can, but it doesn't make sense.
He went to ground at an appliance store off Eastern.
Now he's dumping it.
10-4. Come 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.
Is 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 guys 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.
- But more than one, I get sleepy. - Yeah, me, too.
- What, you short a car? - Need new brake pads.
Two. Boys.
How about you?
Boy and a girl.
And your husband, he...
None of my business, I know, but did he die or something?
You mean 'cause 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 that he didn't get married in order 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, whenever 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 thinking of coming?
Just give me a minute.
Stop! Move away from the cookiejar.
Long day.
Yeah, me, too.
Thanks for the beer.
Goodbye.
Hey, y'all, they coming.
What these motherfuckers think they looking at?
Nigger, you've lost your motherfucking mind.
- You're 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 right now, 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.
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 what you say.
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, Frank.
- Coffee, something? - We're good.
What's on your mind?
Every goddamn thing.
For one, I think my cellphone's being tapped.
All of a sudden, the phone company don't care if I pay my bills anymore.
Meantime, I hear that our regular port cop, the one that found your girls...
got pulled off to work some special thing with the city police.
- So you switched the can. - I ran a test.
I gave you that clean one, put yours in the stacks.
Straight away, the MPA cops stop that Russian's truck...
right after he picked it up.
I think someone's got a line into our computer.
Very smart.
As soon as you called, I shut down the warehouse.
That's fine. But now we're going to 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.
That's a fair question, Niko.
But it has to be the same for everyone: no work, no pay.
Doesn't matter what's in the cans. We still gotta check them through.
- That's work, isn't it? - We take gas, so do you.
- You don't understand-- - I understand completely.
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!
Okay. We 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 of the money...
on something you can touch: a new car, a new coat.
It's why we get up in the morning, right?