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The Wire (2002–2008): Season 2, Episode 1 - Ebb Tide - full transcript

Detective Jimmy McNulty finds the body of a woman floating in the water while carrying out his new assignment of Harbor Patrol. Major Valchek has his gift to a local parish trumped by Frank...


Freezing my balls off.

It ain't so bad. Loosen up.
Couple more months, it's gonna be spring.

Spring, huh?

Listen, you gotta realize the bosses
did you a favor sending you down here.

- Citywide to Marine Unit.
- 7672. Go ahead.

Distress call from a private craft.
60-foot white vessel. Engines are dead.

What's the location, Citywide?

In the channel near the bridge.
About 2,000 yards off the Armistead pier.

10-4, we're responding.

My father used to work there.

- Beth Steel?
- In the shipyards there, yeah.

I had an uncle who was a supervisor there.
Got laid off in '78, though.

'73 for my dad.

- Party boat?
- Pretty one, yeah.

- More than one engine, right?
- Probably an electrical problem.

Is that a police boat?

How are you tonight? Good to see you.

Henry, how are you?

- Drink?
- No, thanks.

- You're the Captain?
- Yeah.

- Harbormaster?
- No, City Police.

- So you're dead in the water?
- Think it's the starter.

- You're not a mechanic, are you?
- Me? No.

I can't tell the aft from the stern.

Best I can offer you is a tow line.

Claude, looks like they're
gonna need a pull.

- 10-4, we'll tow to Henderson's.
- That'll work.

Any chance you can hold off
on bringing us in?

Lot of partying going on now.

I wouldn't wanna cut it short
for a little engine trouble.

You're in the shipping channel.

You tow us somewhere out of the way,
and the band plays on a while longer.

...because you see what I'm saying, right?

I mean, three years in auto theft
and I didn't learn anything.

I didn't care.

I'm telling you,
I didn't even wanna be a police anymore.

I honestly didn't.

I think that was why
I shot up my car like I did.

But this thing we did on Barksdale,
the wiretap and all...

that felt like something.
That felt like something I wanna do.

So I was thinking, you know,
narcotics, maybe.

Major, you want this stuff where?

Just in here.
Up against the wall over there.

If there aren't any openings
in the regular narcotics shift...

maybe assets forfeiture
or something like that.

Easy. Everything breaks.

I mean, with this Barksdale thing...

Lester Freamon had us deep into the money.
Real deep.

We could've seized real estate, cash,
vehicles, all kinds of stuff.

If the bosses, I mean,
if command had let that case go forward.

We were on it.

- Look at that. It's the dove.
- Right.

- So what do you think?
- What do I think?

I think you're gonna take
the Sergeant's Exam next month.

And because I have Andy Krawczyk's ear...

and because he has City Hall's ear...

you're gonna make Sergeant.

Then you're gonna come out here
to the Southeast...

where, because I'm your father-in-law...

you're gonna be assigned a daytime shift
in a quiet sector.

Then you're gonna take the Lieutenant's
Exam where you'll also score high.

I don't want to make rank.

I want to work cases. Good cases.

Roland.

Listen to me.

You did good with the drug thing.
You buckled down, you did the work.

And except for that thing
with the Grand Jury...

you helped take
some of the stink off yourself.

Now if you'll just shut
up and listen to me...

you might actually have a career
in this department.

- This radio ain't working that well.
- We're losing it.

- We're losing the station, man.
- What you mean?

We done gone so far from Baltimore,
we're losing the station.

Try a Philly station
or some shit like that.

The radio in
Philly is different?

Nigger, you gotta be
fucking with me, right?

You never heard a station
outside of Baltimore?

I ain't never left Baltimore
except that Boys' Village shit one day.

And I wasn't trying to hear no radio
up in that bitch.

Come on, man. You're killing me. Stop.

It's been perfect tomato weather out there.

These wonderful hot, humid days,
and then rain at night.

- This a Philly station?
- How the fuck would I know?

Why would anybody wanna leave Baltimore?
That's what I'm asking.

Yo, that be the exit. Take that shit.

So far they on it.

Ahoy, matey.

The girls always tell me
about the little man in the boat.

- Now I know who they talking about.
- Come on board, man.

- Come on, I wanna show you.
- Fuck, no.

- What's the matter?
- The Bunk can't swim.

I ain't too good at floating, either.

So what brings you to the water's edge?

Ilene Nathan called.
Gant case is coming up in four weeks.

She wants to start doing preliminaries
on our witnesses.

That means the old lady from the projects,
which is no problem.

And your man Omar, who's in the wind.

You got a line on Omar, Jimmy?

- Well, he's not to starboard.
- That's port, fool.

- How the fuck would you know?
- Come on.

Let me buy you lunch
and we can think on this shit together.

I leave, I gotta tell my Sergeant.

That reminds me. Landsman wants his $10.

- What for?
- For betting that you'd ride the boat.

You tell that motherfucker
he's not gonna see that money...

especially since it was probably him
told Rawls where I didn't wanna go.

- Ain't the same up there without your ass.
- No?

Better, actually.

Hey, come on, now.

The canal gets dredged...

it means we all work.
Your people, my people.

The canal's the key, Nat. You know this.

Yeah, but you know how much money
you're gonna spend...

to even get them talking about that shit?

We don't take a shot, we might as
well roll over and die right now.

No, you get them to rebuild the grain pier.

- You got a 100 ships right there.
- That's break-bulk, Nat.

Best you'll do is one or two
extra gangs a week on them blowers.

That's six or seven-man gangs at best.

But you try for that, you might actually
come away with something.

You go down to Annapolis
asking for the goddamn canal...

you gonna come back with nothing but your
little shriveled-ass dick in your hand.

What's more, if the grain pier
don't get fixed up soon...

some asshole's gonna fuck us
by building condominiums all over it.

- Nat, if the canal were 2 feet deeper--
- Fuck the canal.

I'm going to the District Council.

I'm gonna tell them
to push for the grain pier.

- You feel me?
- Nat, calm the fuck down.

Goddamn Checkers Local always acting like
you're the king of everything and shit.

Nat, listen to me. If we--

Y'all need to crawl back down
in them holds...

and remind yourself of who you is
and where you come from.

Damn, Frank.

We just sat here and watched Nat Coxson
take a shit all over you.

And shrivel-dick motherfucker
that you are, you take it.

For your information...

I wake up every morning
with an angry, blue-veined diamond-cutter.

I was gonna enlighten the president
of Local 47 on this particular point...

and he chose to depart.

- Blue steel, gentlemen.
- For Christ's sake.

Three-and-a-half inches of hard blue steel.

- Nicky boy, you working today?
- As a lasher for Big Roy's crew.

Attaboy. Make the family proud.

First day they give me in two weeks.

- Is Ott around?
- On his ass as usual.

Worthless fuck still owes me $20
for them lotto tickets.

Hey, Nick.

You need to see the Greek
and get a number. He's got one on the way.

- Today?
- Tomorrow.

The Atlantic Light over at North Point.

All right.

- Yo, Frank.
- What's up?

You gotta get with Ziggy, man.
He's all over the place.

I'm here since 8:00.
You know I been here since 8:00.

- Hold your horses.
- You fucking goose.

I'm gonna find it for you.
Just shut the fuck up a minute.

How we doing?

- Ain't a problem, Chief.
- The fuck it ain't.

I'm down here since 8:00
for crane-to-chassis...

- and Tweety Bird here lost the can.
- It ain't lost.

It's right here on the manifest
as a hot box. Where is it, Zig?

- It's either in Bay 7, or--
- Bay 7 is empty, man.

Or it ain't. In that case...

it's definitely somewhere in the stacks.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You're killing me here, Ziggy.
You are fucking killing me.

Get me a number for your shipping agent.
I'll call and try to square it.

And you.

You clock out today and leave your box,
and don't ever come the fuck back.

You hear me, Zig? You're fired.

Later for you, goofus.

Fucking guy.
He loses his job and he couldn't care less.

- He ain't fired, man.
- No?

That's his father.

How fast you need this?

Case goes to trial in a month.
Got to start prepping it this week.

Officer Burns.

Detective.

I heard they posted you down here.

But, I mean, you know, damn.

These motherfuckers don't play, do they?

So what brings you downstairs?

I was pulling evidence on the Gant case.

You know, trial date for Bird is next month
and Ilene Nathan wanted to be ready.

You give him my love.

- Who?
- Bird.

- No evidence.
- What do you mean, no evidence?

Submission slip says
"Row BB, Section 14, Shelf 3...

"Four, Right rear." It says that.

- So?
- No such thing.

BB has 12 sections. This says 14.
You see what I'm saying?

No evidence.

Winters kill off
the weaker varieties of caterpillars.

Fuck me.

...that's of an entirely
different breed...

Fuck.

...protection against caterpillars,
they eat right through it.

But it is a sort of a warning system.

They here.

Franoosh, you made it.

Right, Father. Got you covered here.

Come on.

You wanna see your window?

Only Franoosh Sobotka would send
all the way to Esslingen for stained glass.

The Germans are hard-headed,
but you can't beat them for craft.

I was glad to do it, Father,
for the church, you know.

Truth is I need to ask you
something in return.

Anything I can do.

- I need some face time with the Senator.
- Barbara?

She comes to the early mass on Sunday,
the one in Polish.

We got nothing but problems, Father.

We need to see something happen
with the C&D Canal...

and the grain pier's been down for a year.

I got tough guys coming in
to confess things I never heard before.

I don't need you to tell me
how bad things are at the docks.

So you'll set something up
with Mikulski soon?

You didn't need a German window
to ask me for that, Francis.

And what's more...

you've made offerings
way above what it would take...

to get that window up there.

How long since your last confession?

I'll see you, Father.

This shit might be somewhere else, man.

Yo, the shit is always up in the door, man.

Motherfucker, you been
standing there watching us.

You see any shit come up out of there?

You seen we ain't take
shit up off this car.

- All right.
- You seen it.

Who gonna believe us? This shit is missing.

And fuck what you're saying.

All he's gonna hear
is that this shit is fucking missing.

Yo, check it again.

Yo, the shit ain't there, man.
Call your man and say so.

Nigger, what you say?

- I said check it again, God damn it!
- Whoa, chill.

Yo, man, cut that shit the fuck out.

What the fuck is going on today, man?

Taking their time, ain't they?

What the hell is going on?

Come on, man.

Damn!

- Ain't anywhere in this section either.
- Start on the next row.

Lieutenant, those two bags could be
anywhere in this damn basement.

You're right.

- We could be here all night.
- Right again.

So that's overtime, right?

Fuck me. I still cannot type.

Fucking white boys, I love them.
I fucking love them.

- Yeah?
- Dumb as a box of rocks.

- Who?
- White boys.

Talking about the brain-deads
in my Kane Street case.

I call him up,
I tell him I wanna buy some drugs.

You know what he says?

"Okay, I'll sell you the drugs.
How much drugs do you want?"

I swear to God, Kima, they don't code it,
they don't ask for a meet, nothing.

And then when you make the deal,
there's no runner, no bullshit.

It's the guy himself
walking up to you, saying:

"I brought the drugs.
Did you bring the money?"

I'm not kidding.
I have much respect for black people...

after working with these idiots
for two weeks.

If white boys wanna sell
drugs in Baltimore,

they have to make
different laws for it...

like even it out for them.

- Affirmative action.
- Leave no white man behind.

- What the fuck do you want?
- I need you to do the seizures.

You got titles, deeds, registrations?
What do you have for me?

Thought you did that.
You're the Forfeiture Unit, right?

I write all the affidavits
and the filing for the City Solicitor.

But you've gotta give me the information
on what we're taking.

That's a fucking hassle.

You want the property, do the paperwork.

You gotta step up, Herc. You don't
have me or Carver to lean on here.

No?

How about you come
on the raids tomorrow?

Take a few doors with me
for old time's sake.

You taking doors?

Yeah, two houses and a bar on Kane Street.

Come on, Kima, mount up with us.
I know you miss it.

I'm done rolling around the gutter.
I am inside now.

- You're a housecat now?
- I made a promise.

I gotta say, Kima. If you were a guy...

and, actually, in some ways
you're better than most guys I know.

If you were a guy, your friends
would buy you a beer and let you know.

- Let me know what?
- You're fucking whipped.

Whipped?

Pussy-whipped within
an inch of your life.

I kid you not.

So...

So?

So where do we find Omar?

Who?

- He say anything else?
- No.

Just to come back. All of us.

How he say it?

You know, he just said it.

- Fuck.
- Yeah.

Shit.

- They holding to it?
- So far.

All right.

They got the times right?

How about the mileage?

All right.

So I'm gonna ask you one more time.

- You never saw him out the car?
- No.

- You stayed with him the whole time?
- Every minute.

How long before he came out
the parking garage?

- How long was he on his own?
- Not enough time to do shit, String.

He was in and out, like, in three minutes.

Chill.

- This shit is fucked up.
- Look--

You follow the directions?

- I did just like you told me.
- Wrote down the mileage?

- Yeah.
- Let me see.

See, right there.

No, you're three-tenths
of a mile long, dawg.

And if you followed directions,
you wouldn't be.

String, I did everything
like I should, man. I swear.

You got answers?

You didn't have to take a detour
in Camden...

when they shut down a couple of blocks
on the Boulevard?

You hurt your foot?

My foot?

You know, the way you
kicked that tire jack.

- You was on us the whole time?
- Who, me?

Y'all had people following us.

So where it at?

You know, you should take me with you.

I should meet these guys.
If I meet these guys...

we can figure out ways to do business.
You know what I'm saying?

- Zig, these guys are real.
- What, I ain't real?

Six degrees.

Everybody's going home
to sauerkraut and Santy Claus...

and here comes a gang of us
walking the other way...

Little Big Roy with his wooden leg.

- Christ, them wooden shovels.
- Yeah.

You children don't know nothing
about them wooden shovels, do you?

Can't have no sparks
when you working grain.

- Kaboom.
- It's more like kaput.

You never gonna see another grain ship
here in Bawlmer, my friends.

Zig, you believe these fucking dinosaurs?

They sit around all day talking shit about
how they used to off-load with shovels...

and carry fucking railroad cars
on their backs.

Shit, and drink whiskey
through a fire hose.

Go home and fuck their wives till
breakfast. There was some heroes back then.

Shit is thick in here tonight, gentlemen.

What can you do?
This generation, they just don't know.

- Ain't never gonna be what it was.
- No, indeed.

Every night with these old fucks.
It's like 1952 and shit.

Boys, you know, when I was your age,
I unloaded ten ships a goddamn day.

You know, I'd do it with one arm...

after a 300-pound bag of Polish dildos
fell on me.

Whoa, wait. What the
fuck is a Polish dildo?

Actually, at my house,
it's a ring of kielbasa.

Christ, here we go again.

Bring out pretty boy.

But, you know, where you boys hail from,
I'm sure any old breakfast link will do.

You know he's gonna
pull out his dick, right?

That boy ain't right.

It was just me...

and my old wooden leg,
and my old wooden shovel...

and my glass eye, and my Polish pencil.

Like anyone from the Checkers Local
ever used anything but a real pencil.

Shit, they don't even push
one of them no more.

Talking trash about 1514.

Jesus H. Christ, you know what?
All hands starboard.

Come on.

The old tub is listing. Can you feel her?

You wanna know why?

'Cause them old fucks
done unloaded so much bullshit...

that this whole motherfucker's
gonna capsize.

Brace yourselves, we're sinking.

God damn it, Ziggy.

You're not taking your dick out
in here again.

Let me show you old gents some bulk cargo
that none of you could ever handle.

Who says they don't make them
like they used to?

Pretty boy is on the town tonight.

Fucking Ziggy, man.

- Bring her in the boat?
- Hell, no.

She'll fall apart if
we try to bring her in.

What's the plan then?

We'll hook her real good.
We'll tow her slowly over to the pier.

- What's she look like?
- What do you mean?

- How long you think she's been in?
- She's fresh.

- Legs are broke, though.
- Probably a jumper from the bridge.

All right, Ma. Shit.

Kitchen's closed.

There's no service for drunks
who can't get up in time to catch a ship.

What ship?

Your father says the
Talco Line is in today.

That makes two ships at North Point.

It's the Atlantic Light.
Ain't due until this afternoon.

That still is no excuse.

Good morning, Mom.

Couple of goddamn drunks I got.

And don't leave
without taking your cousin with you.

I gotta clean in there,
and I ain't gonna do it around his carcass.

You keep us guessing, don't you, Stan?

At Sunday mass, you can't be found.

But early on a Tuesday,
you arrive with an army.

$2,500 from myself and
every other Polack...

in three districts and four firehouses.

- And to what do we owe such generosity?
- A surprise.

We ordered up a window
for where you renovated the nave.

A memorial. Let me see that.

To Polish police and firefighters.

Found this craftsman down in Glen Burnie
that you would not believe.

- For the nave?
- Yeah, for the nave.

We could use another window
on the second floor of the rectory.

- The rectory?
- The upstairs hallway.

How much did them dock boys offer
for this spot?

- I can match it.
- Offerings are confidential, Stan.

- And as you can see--
- I can go as high as $4,000.

Just tell me if they
went higher than $4,000.

More than $4,000? From the docks?

How the hell...

I'm sorry, Father.

- Who came to you with the offer?
- Francis Sobotka.

Frank Sobotka has that kind of money?

- It was from his local.
- The Checkers?

They don't have 100
guys left paying dues.

It's a parish of givers, Stan.

Maybe you talk to Frank.

Work it out somehow.

Yeah, we'll talk.

Major?

Well, if it isn't Barnacle
Bill, the sailor.

Ray, how you been?

I got nothing but red ink
under my name this year.

Landsman's become an asshole with teeth.

- Fish your wish, huh?
- Jumper, probably.

- This close to the bridge.
- Probably, yeah.

- Pretty, though.
- She is, yeah.

I go into the men's room this morning.

Guess who's in the next stall
puking his guts out.

Bunk Moreland.

- How'd you know?
- Useless fuck can't hold his liquor.

- What's happening, man?
- What's up, Fam?

All right.

- You ain't heard from Roberto yet?
- Not a goddamn word, man.

Billy still got our money though, right?
So you need to get down to New York, man.

Fuck kind of game this nigger playing?
You sure of our people?

I broke down all their stories
and they came back clean.

Besides, I had some good people
watching them.

- Who?
- Tank, Country.

- How long that motherfucker been home?
- A month.

Still on parole. He said, "fuck that."
Straight back in the mix.

All right.

So good, it ain't on us. It's on Roberto.
Set it straight. You know what I mean?

So when you go hard on them,
take it light, but be firm.

They got our money
and we ain't got the product.

So, you feel me? The shit ain't right.

How you fixed in here otherwise, B?

This ain't no thing, man.
You know what I mean?

You come in here, man,
you get your mind right.

You get in here and you do two days. It's
the day you come in this motherfucker--

And the day you get
out this motherfucker.

That's right.

Exactly.

- What's up?
- How you doing?

- Coming from the hiring hall?
- I'm working the Atlantic late today.

- How's it looking for Local 47?
- You're shit out of luck.

ROIROs isn't going to anybody
lower than a G-series.

Best you can get,
maybe half a day doing break-bulk...

on an aluminum load at Locust Point.

- Half a day, huh?
- Seniority sucks.

- Yeah, if you ain't senior, it does.
- Yeah, you got that right.

- I'm out of here.
- Yeah, I'll see you.

- The fuck you ain't wake me up for?
- Just getting up now, fuck-face?

No, actually,
your ma makes a good breakfast.

- No fucking way.
- Bacon and eggs, baby.

You going down to see the Greek, right?

Come on, man.
I ain't gonna fuck it up for you.

For Christ's sake,
will you just get in the car already?

Come on. Let's go.

I swear to God, Ziggy.
You open your mouth, I'll fucking kill you.

- Nicky, from the docks.
- Spiros.

How are you? Good?

- Who's your friend?
- This is Zig, my uncle's kid.

- Your uncle? Frankie?
- Yeah.

Ziggy's his oldest.
My car broke down, you know. He drove.

So you must be the Greek.

Well, I'm Greek anyway.

Boris Badanoff.
I know you from around the way, right?

Why am I Boris? I don't understand this.
Everywhere I am Boris.

- Shit, you're Russian, right?
- No, Ukraine. Kyiv is Ukraine.

- It's the same difference, though.
- No, you're wrong.

What's the matter?
You don't like being called Boris?

Sergei.

No way, man. Boris is way better.
It's like the guy from the cartoon.

Boris and Natasha?

Bullwinkle, man. Rocky and Bullwinkle.

- You want some coffee, pie?
- No, I'm good.

- Actually, what kind of pie you got?
- Hey, Zig.

Shut the fuck up, huh?

Malaka.

No, it's cool. He's cool.

- That's Frank's kid?
- Yeah.

He's in the Union, you know.

But he's like an L-series,
so he ain't getting any hours.

- Same deal, same rate.
- All right. Who's driving?

Again?

You want to mix it up a little more.

Make it so customs doesn't put
no names to faces.

You trust a man, you stay with him.

- Okay.
- All right.

Boris it is.

- Sergei.
- Yeah, whatever.

Come on, fucknuts. Let's go.

- How's the open-face turkey?
- It's shit. Let's go.

See you guys later.

- Bullwinkle?
- Polacks.

You fucking embarrassed me in there, man.

You embarrassed yourself, Zig.

You seen my nephew anywhere?

Nick? Not yet.
I don't think he got any hours.

- Hey, Frank.
- Hey, darling.

Just so I can finish my paperwork early,
what are your people gonna steal today?

I don't know.

Couple luxury sedans,
some color TVs, wide-screen.

Maybe a couple cans of vodka,
maybe a whole container ship.

Okay. Y'all have a good one.

You let her fuck with you like that?

She's all right. I like her.

I checked the computer. It's Bay 9,
Cell 11. It's right on the bottom.

- You working the light, ain't you?
- I'm on it, yeah.

- Did they say anything else?
- No. Just that it's the same money to us.

Let's go.

All right, Uncle Frank.

- Winona.
- Jimmy, where you been?

Look who it is. Sailor Boy.

- You owe me $10.
- Fuck you.

You told Rawls where I didn't wanna go.
You made it happen, Jay.

- I told him where you didn't wanna go.
- Yeah, and they sent me there.

I knew Rawls was pissed,
I didn't know how pissed.

What can I tell you?

- Where's Bunk?
- Out on a call with Crutchfield.

What's up with the girl?
She come off the bridge or what?

Doc Frazier posted her today.
Blunt-force trauma to the head and chest.

He says she's dead
before she hits the water.

What about the defense wounds?

Bruising on three fingers?
We saw that as soon as we picked her up.

You missed the defense wounds?

I wasn't looking.
Thought she went off the bridge.

Also, she's in the drink
with no coat or shoes.

Maybe that stuff comes off in the water,
maybe not.

I don't see her going to the bridge
in winter dressed like she was.

But then that's just me.

Tell Bunk I was here, will you?

Have fun.

We already had our fun.
Dumping her on Baltimore County.

On the County?

You fished her out east of the bridge.
That's Baltimore County. She's their stat.

- You sold them on that?
- Rawls did.

He called up the Colonel and said:

"You got one hell of a murder
on your hands."

It's all about self-preservation, Jimmy.

Something you never learned.

Hey, Norris. State Police, Line 2.

A little to the right!

Good, bring her down!

It's there whenever they want it.

Now that you are my client, Mr. Bell...

we are protected
by the attorney-client privilege.

- I thought Roberto would be here.
- Not likely.

This, I'm afraid, was in Monday's papers.

It seems Roberto Castellano y Silva
has been targeted by the DEA.

That's why we didn't do the business?

Right now, Roberto and his people aren't
going to be getting involved in anything...

that could further
complicate the situation.

You know, usually, when you take a fall,
you get right back in there...

- 'cause you know nobody's watching, right?
- Sometimes.

And sometimes you wonder how it is
you got caught in the first place.

And you decide to change the pattern.

He took our money?

Your advance payment arrived
as our problem did.

And I'm told the money
is on the way back to Baltimore.

You know, I get the feeling
that you're blaming us...

for Roberto's predicament.

Perhaps your problems in Baltimore
and my client's problems here...

are coincidental.

- But right now--
- Listen to me.

He was the first to know
that we took a hit.

He knows no one came close
to rolling over us...

and all the documents from the case.

Nonetheless, we have a legitimate concern.

Considering the scope
of Mr. Barksdale's operation...

his sentence was, to say the least, mild.

But if the possibility exists,
however unlikely...

that the leniency he received
was the result of cooperation...

You understand our position, I'm sure.

Frank, it's sitting out there waiting...

and this Russian fuck
won't take it off the pier.

I ain't blind.

I don't like it
sitting out in the open that long.

The customs seal is broke.
Somebody's gonna see it.

Our asses are hanging out here.

- Yeah?
- Nicky, what the fuck? It's still here.

- Shit.
- Yeah.

- Where's Sergei?
- He's parked at the end of the lot.

- What's he waiting for?
- I got no fucking idea.

But the ship's almost empty.
They need to shit or get off the pot.

- I'll look into it.
- Yeah.

Okay, I understand.

Fuck it. Get it on a fifth wheel
and lose it in the stack. We're at risk.

I ain't lying when I say
this paperwork is kicking my ass.

Maybe so. But the end of the day,
you come through the door in one piece.

You like to think so.

But all these paper cuts
are starting to take their toll.

You big, nasty detective. Come here.

Let me give your little boo-boo a kiss.

- All this?
- I'm just getting started.

$1000 for the doctor.

$1000 each time, girlfriend.
Every month till I'm pregnant.

There's gotta be a better way.

That would be on you, sweetheart.

Come up with a suitable donor
and we pay a lot less.

Not with your pussy
would I fuck anyone of these guys.

What did you just say?
No, you didn't just say that.

Sergeant.

Your floater's come back.

County boys are putting her
on our side of the bridge.

- No fucking way.
- Yeah.

Some useless fuck in our Marine Unit
faxed them a report...

on the early morning tides
and wind currents.

Shows the body went in the water
west of the bridge and drifted out.

McNulty.

Fucking Jimmy.
Fucking with us for the fun of it.

I gotta give the son of a bitch
some credit for wit on this one.

- Cocksucker.
- Motherfucker.

The count is right. What's on the shelf?

Mace carrying 10 down here.
So, Moe Man holding about 38 up top.

I checked the stash, and we way low.

- Moe Man taking our shit.
- What he holding?

He say he holds about 30-something,
but I know that ain't right.

I'm gonna fuck him up.

First thing you think to do
is fuck a nigger up.

When your brick brain gonna realize
there's more to this...

than just thumpin' on niggers?

- What Moe supposed to be holding?
- 38, thereabout.

- Ain't you the damn fool?
- But then we low.

Look, nigger, if we low,
it 'cause String want us that way.

When he wants us up, we be up.
String is on top of the shit.

He on top of everything.

Go back to your spot, man.

Fucking McNulty.

The Prince of Tides.

- Brother, you feeling strong today?
- Yeah.

See if you can get his
ass out of that chair.

He said it was fine
if you wanted to hit him, too.

What's the first thing a guy from Local 47
does after he gets laid?

- What?
- Wipes the pepper spray from his eyes.

Hey, Frank. Something's going on.

- It's fucking girls, man. Young ones.
- There's a dozen of them.

Dead? They're dead?