The Wire (2002–2008): Season 2, Episode 2 - Collateral Damage - full transcript

Thirteen bodies, all female...

eleven White, two Asian-looking.

All between the ages of maybe 20, 30.
All very dead.

From Eastern Europe probably.

So this is, what, an accident?

Your air pipe's up top, crushed.
Probably during the off-load.

So, yeah, accidental probably.

But that's his call, right?

- Doctor.
- Frazier.

How're we doing here?

- How are we doing?
- I mean, what are we doing?

What's the plan with all this?

Is this your first
death investigation, Officer?

Russell. Yeah, first and onliest.

You got 13 for the price of one.

We're gonna start cutting this afternoon.

Anything you got by way of identifications
should come through my office.

What identification?

So far, we don't have
a passport or visa in the bunch.

Whatever you find in this luggage,
send it over...

or they're all going to the Anatomy Board
as Jane Does.

Who's the investigating agency?

If they were alive, they'd be illegals,
and that would mean Immigration.

- But they're dead, so they're cargo.
- Cargo, but no contraband.

There's nothing to be seized
as a customs violation.

They're dead
on Port Authority property, right?

- Yeah.
- That's a state thing.

We'll eat it.

If it's accidental, then it's just
about IDs on these stowaways, right?

Good enough for me, brother.

No reason to open a full case folder
that I can see.

Wait a minute.
You CID guys are rolling out on this?

No crime, no investigation.

All you've got right here, Officer Russell,
is a lot of paperwork.

And then there was one.

- You don't have to do this.
- No?

Anything you're gonna say
I already said to Spiros.

You called him a Greek asshole?

You think we wanted this?

I don't know what the fuck
you people want and don't want.

All I know is, I got a can full of young
girls suffocating to death on my docks.

- This was a mistake.
- A mistake?

They fucking died in that can...

while this stupid son of a bitch sat there
with his dick in his hands.

You know nothing.

We understand you're upset, Frank.
We are upset, too, okay?

Sergei was supposed to wait
for our friend to come off the boat.

Our friend was supposed to tell us
that there was no problem...

you know, no Customs.

- He did not come off the boat.
- Why the fuck not?

This is what we're trying to find out.
We don't know.

Because you don't get the right message,
these girls are dying on my docks?

This is how it goes?
On my docks, this happened!

I understand how you feel...

but we're upset, too.
Everybody, we're all upset.

Nobody here wanted this.

Uncle Frank,
they're saying it wasn't on purpose.

You could've told me
there were girls in that fucking can.

You could've told me,
so I didn't just shove them back...

in the stacks like I did, right?

Why didn't you tell me
what was in that motherfucking can?

Now you want to know what's in the cans?

Before, you wanted to know nothing.
Now, you ask.

Guns, okay?

Drugs, whores, vodka, BMWs...

beluga caviar or bombs, maybe.

- Bad terrorists with big nuclear bombs.
- Boom.

I am kidding you, Frank, it's a joke.

But you don't ask...

because you don't want to know.

Tell the Greek that next time
he's got something breathing...

in one of them cans, I need to know it.

Give him a couple of days, you know?

So Roberto been caught?

Yep, DEA got him in New York.

Now the shit makes some sense.

The money we sent for the last go-round
came back. All of it.

Damn, they ain't gonna touch us now?

Goddamn Dominicans running around
scared acting like we the problem.

Roberto won't even see us.
Stringer had to go to the lawyer up there.

They saying they have to be sure
before they get back with us.

- They saying you only
got seven years, so--

- So I'm a motherfucking snitch?

They ain't saying they think it.

They just don't know how
the Feds got to Roberto.

- So we on the outside.
- Yep.

Look...

we hanging on to them projects with scraps.

Avon, you gotta have somebody for us.

A friend in Atlanta...

owns a rim shop, name of Vargus.

Have Stringer fly down there tomorrow
and meet him.

You seen D'Angelo lately?

He on the J-tier, you know what I mean?

It's very difficult for me
to get over there, you know?

So you ain't checking on him,
and Donette's out and about.

- I don't know what's what anymore.
- Now, what's up with Donette?

I leave messages, she ain't call back.

She ain't had her ass down here
regular neither.

We need to tighten shit up, Avon.

She should be bringing his son by
every week.

Yeah, I'm gonna put Stringer on that, too.

After all he has done for us...

Dee needs to be cared for, Avon.

- Promises were made.
- I know.

He took the 20, he ain't complaining.

He is carrying a lot of
weight for this family.

And we keeping him close.
Dee being cold toward me right now.

He in this motherfucker trying
to make adjustments and shit.

Adjustments?

Brianna...

you know damn well I ain't gonna let shit
happen to him, right?

- You got these off the boat?
- What, in winter?

In a couple of months. Fringe benefit.

Can't catch crabs in Homicide, right?

Except maybe
the occasional emergency room nurse...

every now and again.

- Need some air in here.
- Leave it.

I don't need the hassle
if Rawls comes past.

You're not the run-of-the-mill
kind of asshole, are you?

- You're the special kind of asshole.
- I'm special, all right.

How long did it take you
to figure out the tide...

took that girl over the county line?

- Three hours.
- Three hours...

with your little harbor maps...

and your tide tables
just to stick Rawls with an extra body.

Never mind that you just fucked Cole
with a stone whodunit.

- That's collateral damage.
- Yeah.

Are you gonna waste that crab gut?

You're a pussy, besides, Jimmy.

- We need Omar, Jimmy.
- You see this.

- Thirteen girls?
- Yeah, I heard about it.

- Who caught it?
- It ain't ours.

Port police has jurisdiction over Patapsco.

Ain't gonna be a murder either,
so who gives a fuck?

Listen, Jimmy, I ain't
got no case on Bird...

unless that crazy motherfucker
Omar testifies. You hear me?

It's time you show Bunk the love.

You want love, you
come and sit on my lap.

Shit.

This pretty motherfucker
comes over and tells me...

the customs seal got broke on the dock
and I'm responsible.

Can you fucking believe that?

I seen the goddamn thing on the crane,
the seal's already broke.

Who got to it?

The crew probably.
Some goddamn ordinary seamen.

- What was it?
- Vodka, I think.

I ain't saying
we didn't squeeze a case or two...

but fuck it, Frank, the
can was already open.

I didn't come to the union hall today
on the back of no bread truck.

I swear, Frank,
we grabbed a couple cases at the end...

after everyone of them
sailor boys damn near raped it.

- A couple of cases?
- Yeah, it was four.

- What the fuck is up with the police?
- What?

They're stroking tickets
on every fucking car.

"Rear tag not entirely visible?"

You got the tow bar set high.

"Emergency access blocked."
Are you kidding me?

We've been parking this side of the
building since the fucking ships had sails.

Come on, pal, what the fuck?

- It ain't me, it's my boss.
- Who's your boss?

- Valchek, Southeast district.
- Stan Valchek?

The district commander, yeah.

That sawed-off piece of shit.
Why the hell is he fucking with us?

Whatever it's about,
you definitely got the man's attention...

'cause word comes down
this morning from my shift lieutenant...

we're to ride past your union hall
twice a day and paper cars.

- You work for a gaping asshole.
- More than one actually.

We're not gonna put up with this shit,
we're gonna go downtown on it.

Take it all the way to the mayor's office,
I can't blame you, but leave me out of it.

It's chain of command.

I mean, I gotta live
with the son of a bitch, too, right?

- You can't tell me this place ain't clean.
- You talk when I say you can.

Who told you to decorate, nigger?

Cell look pretty fucked up to me.
What you calling clean?

- Man, I ain't done shit.
- Don't say that to me, motherfucker!

Pets, too?

No, you see, they plastic,
they got little motors and all, man.

Clean this shit before lock-down.

That's four in a row, bitch!

Wait here, this won't take long.

What do you want from me?
He's an E-rate and you're a "G."

He wants the ship, he gets the ship.
Seniority, Mims, seniority.

- There ain't no union without it, brother.
- Your sweetheart's out there.

Who?

I gotta go, Mims, I got to.

- Kind of empty in here.
- Everyone's working.

- You getting the message?
- The message?

I had people working on a window for the
nave up St. Casmir's since Easter...

you know that?

I took money from half a dozen
different people...

told them where it was gonna go.

- You tell Father Lewandowski?
- I was gonna surprise him.

Yeah, you surprised everybody.
Now there's one window too many, right?

Here's the thing, Father Lew says...

he could take another window
in the rectory on the second floor.

- Good for you.
- No, good for you, Frank.

You don't want my finger in your eye,
you better do what's right here.

What's right?

What's right would be for you
to come down here to my house...

like a decent human being
and ask a common courtesy.

But that's not you, it's not your way.

My old man always said
you were a half-ass punk...

over at Holy Redeemer as a kid.

My sister said you were a pain in the ass
pest at all them CYO dances...

where none of the girls
would even look at you.

Damn near everyone at the Point said
when you got your badge...

it was too much for anybody named Valchek
to have a patrolman's drag.

And sure enough, you've been
an official asshole every day since.

Fuck you! And your window!

Where are you gonna be?

I'm gonna go find some lunch
somewhere, maybe.

- Give me an hour, yeah?
- Yeah.

- What the fuck is this?
- A knot.

Why don't you just do bunny ears?

So what else we got?

Medics, clothes, bedrolls, that's it.

- Here's a letter, though.
- A letter? What language?

Who knows?
Same backwards-ass writing, though.

That's like Russian or something,
I'm telling you.

Can't figure the name or the address...

but the stamp says "Magyar" on it.

Where's Magyar?

What the hell do I
look like, Rand McNally?

Which one of your detectives caught
all the dead girls?

Detectives? They're at the bar already.

These yours?

They chalked it up as an accidental
and dumped the paperwork on us.

She found them, she writes on it.

- I'm McNulty, City Marine Unit.
- Beatrice Russell.

- You got any IDs yet?
- No visas or passports.

A few scraps of paper,
but nothing to make sense of.

Russian alphabet on most of it.
You just curious?

- Yeah.
- Why?

Day before yesterday I fished out
a Jane Doe from near the bridge.

There's no missing person report on file.

We got 14 bedrolls and 13 bodies.

- Mine was a murder.
- A murder, you're kidding me?

We got some photos,
if you wanna take a look.

I called the morgue this morning...

the only thing they can say
is the dental work isn't local.

Overseas, they think.

- Is that your girl?
- Think so.

Looks better here.

You got her in the water,
day before yesterday, out by the bridge?

0900 hours, by the Fort Armistead dock.

Why would you have a murdered girl
in the water...

and the rest of them are suffocating
in a can at Patapsco?

- What went wrong?
- Air pipe up top got crushed.

Happened when cargo shifted around,
most likely.

They had cargo up front of the container
with a false back after about 25 feet.

You had cartons stacked in front...

but a tight passage to a small door
in the false wall...

opens from the outside only.

- They're in here the whole trip?
- Probably not.

Once they're at sea,
there's usually someone in the crew...

who's in on it, you know, a shepherd.

He lets them out to eat, move around,
use the bathroom, whatever.

They were clawing at the wall for air.

That's what the medical examiner
said anyway.

- Where's the air pipe?
- That's the hole. Pipe's up top.

You get a lot of stowaways?

Some. Usually it's Customs
or INS that finds them.

Most are Dominicans or Haitians,
or from that part of the world, anyway.

- Not so much from Europe?
- A bit more since 9/11, actually.

I think because people can't get in
on visas anymore...

like they used to. There you go.

Usually, if the shepherd
is doing his job...

he tries to put a can like this
on bottom of the stack...

so they can pop it and the girls
just walk out on the floor of the hold.

Where was this one?

- Look.
- What?

- That look right to you?
- What do you mean?

- You said you were with the Marine Unit?
- Yeah.

What does the Marine Unit have to do
with a bunch of dead girls in a can?

Not a thing.

What do you want me to do?

You can go to Father Lew,
ask him to give Sobotka back his money.

Switch the windows, maybe.

You ever in your life
seen a priest give money back?

The guy pays for a window,
he gets a window.

I thought you had suction.

At City Hall, I got suction.
Down Annapolis, I got suction.

But who but the Pope has any drag
with the cardinal? Get over it.

How the fuck's he get
that kind of money anyway?

Now, that's a good question.

I mean, the whole I.B.S.
can't have 1,500 guys left in this town...

and there ain't 100 checkers.

They got the car ships coming in...

the roll-on/roll-off cargo
is keeping them afloat.

- That's all they got?
- Pretty much.

Past six months,
I.B.S. hired Bruce Dibiago's people...

to lobby for them down in Annapolis.

They've been good
with the political contributions.

They're throwing around a lot of cash.

- How can they?
- You tell me.

Dibiago does not come cheap.
This is real money we're talking.

You know what I think?

I think Francis Sobotka's into some dirt.

You're the cop, not me.

The Grainery?

So I hear Burrell's gonna be
the next police commissioner.

Yeah, I've seen worse.

See, if it's crushed by another container,
it should've been one single movement...

maybe two if something shifts,
and then shifts back again.

This looks like someone has been pounding
on it in a bunch of spots.

See?

Before I rule it, I wanna go down
with a metallurgist to be sure.

But yeah, from the look of it...

you just bought yourself 13 homicides.
Congratulations.

If the commissioner
goes down to Washington, it's you, right?

That's for the mayor to decide.
I'd have to clear the council, too.

If the mayor wants you,
that's not much of a problem.

You been around as long as me,
you make a few enemies.

What, the First District guys?
They're not gonna start nothing.

- They're pushing Shipley.
- See, that's racist.

You know, it personally offends me
that anybody would reach down past you...

to elevate some colonel
just because he happens to be white.

You know what I'm gonna do?

I'm gonna get on the phone
and call my friends at the Hall.

That'll bring the First District in line.

That's very kind.

And what if anything is there
that I can do for you, Maj. Valchek?

Funny you should ask. I need a detail.

CID people mostly, though I can spare
some bodies out of my district, too.

What for?

I got some guys in the Southeast
that are showing a lot of money.

- Port guys, longshoremen.
- I.B.S.?

I'm not talking about going after
the whole union.

Just a couple of guys in one local
that look fat.

Drugs, maybe, or the usual thieving.

- Frank Sobotka, you heard the name?
- No.

And I'm not saying the problem
even goes past him.

- What's he to you?
- To me?

He's an asshole.

Six men for six weeks.

Rawls will pick them.

You ordered more than you ate.

It's cold out here.

Cedric, I shouldn't have brought
it up again, I'm sorry.

You're right. You're always right.

I'm just saying you have to be realistic.

You did what you did,
and now you are where you are.

In the basement.

If they buried you any deeper,
you'd be under the damn building.

Burrell won't be there forever.

Burrell is going to be the next
police commissioner, and you know it.

But you've got the law degree.

With your police experience, half a dozen
firms would think you're a prize.

You've got options.

- Just because they don't--
- You're right.

I'll put in my papers.

- Who wants breakfast?
- Christ, it's about time.

Lucky's was closed.
I had to go to the metro.

I thought Mutt be working North Point
today. He like them Ro-ro ships.

No, his wife is having some kind of
operation, so he gave back his hours.

- Who got them?
- New Charles works for Mutt.

Yo, Zig. You working today?

No, came down here to have breakfast
with you duper-faced fucks.

Most important goddamn meal
of the goddamn day, right?

- Set them up, Dolores, Zig is thirsty.
- That's right, I'm thirsty.

You know what?
Bottoms up, you ugly whores.

- Nick.
- What's up?

Come here.

- I got a line on something.
- Oh, yeah?

You know White Mike
from down Curtis Bay?

- He's gonna stake me to a package.
- A package?

Dope, Nicky, dope.

I got work today, Zig.

Yeah, and I'm gonna make as much money
not working. You see what I'm saying?

- So why the fuck you coming to me?
- I want you to come in on it with me.

You bring a little cash as money down,
my man might give us a bigger package.

We turn it around, we both get paid.

All right, ship's in, gentlemen.

- Fuck that shit, Zig.
- Time to work!

- Nicky, come on, man.
- Can I ride with you?

Will you think about it?

Dolores, can I get another shot?

- What's up?
- DWI checkpoint.

Step out of the car for a Breathalyzer.

It's 8:00 in the goddamn morning.

Who the fuck gets drunk
at 8:00 in the morning?

Bill, I'm not arguing that the
jurisdiction's not technically ours.

Patapsco's definitely
Port Authority property

and the Port Police
have the jurisdiction.

- That's not in dispute here.
- Good.

But they're not equipped
for a death investigation.

You dump 13 bodies on them,
you're dumping them on us.

MSP is gonna have to pick up that slack,
overburdened as we are.

Robbie, I have fought and scratched
and clawed for four months...

to get my clearance rate up above 50%...

and right now, it stands at exactly 51.6%.

Do you happen to know
what my clearance rate will be...

if I take 13 whodunits off your hands?

- 39.4%.
- Bill, like I told you--

We did not get to be colonels
by being complete fucking idiots, right?

Robbie, you poor bastard,
you look like you need a cup of coffee.

The man is a god.

Big chief.

I gotta get him back to maximum security
by 6:00, all right?

Yeah. Come on in, man.

Here, sit down.
Fix yourself something to eat, man.

- No, man, I ain't hungry, I ate.
- What?

You crazy, this is good shit, man.

- Better get in this.
- No.

Look, man...

if he tearing your room down, man...

we keep bringing more stuff in.

It's gonna get so he can't tear it down
fast enough. You feel me?

He fucked with my fish though, I don't...

He ain't have to go there, man.

- What's up with this motherfucker?
- You remember Ladontay?

Burner from over the Poe Homes?

Caught him over at Carver parking lot
after school?

We did that?

Tilghman was Ladontay's cousin
or some such.

He found out I ate the charge,
he busting my chops.

Ladontay? I can't even remember that one.

You need a scorecard
to keep up with your lethal ass.

Avon, he fixing to stay in my shit.

Listen. I'm gonna talk to him, all right?

I'm gonna set it straight. All right?

- What's his name again?
- Tilghman, he work the dayshift on J-tier.

I seen him around.

Man, all these CO's are fronting and shit.

You got the guards bringing your meals in.

This punk motherfucker Tilghman
running around acting righteous...

but he bringing shit in here,
steady slinging on the side.

Don't fret. All right?

It's nothing. I'm gonna take care of it.

The city won't take it?

No, it's Port Authority property.
It's state jurisdiction.

So it's MSP out of Pikesville.

Case needs real murder police.

You don't give a shit.
Just wanna fuck Rawls, don't you?

Absolutely. What can you give me?

This is about fucking
over your boss?

If they don't eat the
cases, then you will.

What do you need?

First of all,
how big was the false compartment?

13 by 7 by 7.

Okay, we got 13 adult females,
breathing at a normal to elevated rate...

that's 0.25 liters of oxygen per minute...

per victim.

- He's a doctor?
- A State Bureau of Mines.

- Minds?
- Mines.

Officer Tilghman,
could I parlay with you for a moment?

- Barksdale, right?
- Yeah.

- Listen, I want to know
if you can help me--

- No.

- Pardon me?
- I said, no, motherfucker.

Off the steps.

What the fuck are you up to now?

You're deep into somebody's shit, McNulty.
I can tell.

This is bullshit.

Those computations were checked...

and confirmed by
the medical examiner's office.

They're accurate for time of death
to within a three-hour window.

Yeah, so you say.

Your man in the Marine Unit
did the measurements on the container.

I happen to know my man
in the Marine Unit intimately...

and he's, without a doubt,
the most swollen asshole...

in American law enforcement.

I am not eating 13 murders. No, sir.

If they were already dead
when the container hit the dock...

then they were murdered on board ship.

That means Baltimore County...

or Anne Arundel
on the other side of the bridge...

and if they're further
down the bay, then you

fellows with the Coast
Guard can take it.

This is not a city problem.

Talk amongst yourselves. One of you
is taking this case home tonight.

No, Bill.

The Atlantic Light passed the Key Bridge
at 2300 hours...

and laid up at anchor,
2,000 yards off Patapsco...

until 0600 hours, when it docked.

By the map, that's
Baltimore city.

And that put the ship
in your jurisdiction...

for the three-hour window
for the time of death.

Bill, you look like
you could use a good cup of coffee.

Mikey.

- What's up?
- No.

No, what?

No way, you little rat-faced piece of shit.

You fucked up the last two packages
I gave you.

Mikey, look man, that wasn't me.

You got money, Zig,
you can buy a little weight.

You got no money, go fuck yourself.

Mike, I thought we was friends.

Did you fuck up the last two packages?

- Sort of.
- Are you beat to shit?

- No.
- Take a walk, my friend.

- What's up, man?
- What's up, playboy?

That thing in Atlanta, settled for now.

So we got that, you know.

Good. I ain't call you down for that, man.

Called you down here 'cause we got a CO
in here with some bullshit.

- Who?
- Name is Tilghman.

He kin to that boy that Wee-Bey
dusted down over in that school lot.

He can't let go of that shit, neither.

Tilghman? Right.

Listen, Brianna reminded me, man.
We got promises we got to keep.

I know, I heard.

You need to get with Dee's girl.

Have her bring that young one
down here regular.

She need to step up
and do her fucking part.

All right.

How's Dee taking it?

I mean, he gonna do
what need to be done, man.

You know what I'm saying?
Dee need a little help every now and again.

You're not out of reach
or nothing like that, right?

- No, nothing like that.
- You sure?

He's carrying a lot
of weight for us, man.

Stringer, he's family, man.

All right? He's family.

Come on, Jimmy. Take it to the head, baby.

Come on. Tell her you were first in line.

That's it.

There it is.

- One more, baby, come on.
- There you go.

- That's enough.
- No.

You gotta do all 14 of them bad boys...

one for every member of the dear family
you gave to Cole.

Here's to Ray Cole, a fine detective,
and a goodly man.

Jimmy, the look on Jay Landsman's face.
He nearly fucking cried.

And Rawls!

Rawls, I swear to God,
the man stayed in his office all day.

All afternoon.
He just stayed there with the door closed.

- Careful, you're giving me an erection.
- Come on now.

Motherfucker, you have outdone yourself
this time.

You ain't never coming back from this,
you know that.

Lester, what the fuck can they do to me
they haven't done?

I'm riding the goddamn boat.

Fuck it, I don't give a shit.
Here's to Jane Doe 13.

All right.

Eleven more years of whatever bullshit
they throw at me.

I'm gonna put in my papers,
take the pension and walk.

Eleven's a long time to be on the shelf.

Tell me about it, Mr. 13 years.

And four months.

Fuck it.

Chew you up, they gotta spit you back out.

- Fourteen.
- He did it.

Fuck.

Easy, motherfucker,
I ain't picking up that shit.

Go that way.

- Man, anybody still in there?
- They're keeping La-la.

He had an old warrant on him.

- For what?
- I don't know. Some traffic shit, man.

The bondsman's inside,
trying to get it all figured out.

Man, what the fuck
was this all about anyway?

- Jerking us around on the way to work.
- It's a beef I got with a police boss.

- Charlie Valchek's little pissant brother.
- You gotta get that taken care of, man.

- I mean, this shit is out of hand.
- I'm gonna take care of it.

Yeah, y'all need a lift?

- I'll see you.
- All right, talk to you.

That runt wants a war, he's got one.

Not supposed to be talking anyway.

- Bunk, Lester.
- Yeah.

You two winners are on the Jane Does.

What? We're not up, Jay.

We caught that double in Pimlico last week.

Cole's gonna take the double.

- You two got pussy in a can.
- Jay, that ain't right.

You know what ain't right?

Our squad has a negative clearance rate
for the year. A negative rate.

Now, I'm not saying
Ray Cole isn't a good detective.

But I need those 14 cases to go black...

so I got my best people on it.

Ray.

Lay it on them.

Name and number of the port cop
who processed the scene.

And the best of luck to you
in all your future endeavors, Detectives.

Motherfucker.

Beatrice Russell. She pretty at least?

Last night, you're too drunk to fuck.
Today, you're too hung over.

What's the most useless thing on a woman?

- What?
- A drunken Irishman.

But you're not really Irish, are you?

I had 14 shots of Jameson.
How's that for green?

You're green, all right.

You're also an idiot. Who does 14 shots?

You're a child, McNulty.

Show up at my door at 2:00 a.m. again
without invitation...

- I will call the cops.
- Why would you wanna do that?

Jimmy.

Am I your girlfriend? No. Your wife? No.
Your soul mate? No.

What the fuck am I, Jimmy?

We're good together.

Answer the question.

I've been pretty honest with you.

My wife wants to put it back together
again, I'm gonna go for it, right?

You know, what with the kids and all...

You got any aspirin?

For Christ's sake, Ronnie,
I'm dying in here.

A real police department
would have an elevator.

So you Russell? Bunk Moreland.

Lester Freamon.

I'm still on hold with the Coast Guard,
Delaware River Detachment.

What do we know?

Atlantic Light is in Philly,
heading for Port of Elizabeth tonight.

- I'm trying to get them to hold her.
- Anyone from your CID working this?

Nope. I heard there's a big argument
over jurisdiction...

and your colonel made everybody mad.

- All you get is me.
- Still on hold?

We can call this in from the road.

You're with City Homicide?

- You must know Jimmy McNulty.
- Yeah, he's dead to us.

Gentlemen, make yourselves at home.

I've seen worse.

It's leased by the Highway Authority,
but we can use it for an off-site.

- Furnace work?
- It does.

And the phone lines.

You'll need window units
if you're here come summer...

but somehow I got a feeling...

that you gents will put together a case
quicker than that.

Now, this here...

is my district investigator,
Roland Pryzbylewski.

Kid's a prodigy.
Anything you need from me, you go to him.

Gentlemen, the target is Frank Sobotka...

and anyone Frank Sobotka
does his dirt with.

Roland will fill you in on the details.
Good hunting.

So who signs the overtime slips?

Son of a bitch.
You are a fucking thief, aren't you?

- This is where our taxes go.
- I do good work, don't I?

Let's get it on the fucking can now.

Horseface, you son of a bitch.

Christ, I'm gonna bust
the only nut I got left.

Ain't no heavier than the pallets
we usually handle.

Finishing touch, boys.

Bon voyage.

There she goes.

This area's restricted.
Yes, sir, no problem.

- Amir, why don't we sail?
- They're holding the ship.

- Who?
- Coast Guard, the Americans.

Why?

Fuck, Sergei, you almost break my hand.

Bring him up!

- Have a good day, Officer.
- Okay, I'll see you.

Now get up in there.

Last call before lock-down.

Make it snappy now.

- How you like that?
- It's good, baby, it's beautiful.

Nice. Smooth.

Most def, man.

Man, watch your back, be good, baby.

- What up, man?
- Yeah, he left that in here.

It's his.

- So how you doing?
- All right.

Yeah?

Me and you gonna need to talk.

- So who's on board?
- Thirty-eight in the crew, 14 are Yemeni.

Eight are Sri Lankan.

There are five Filipinos and the rest
are from here, there, and back again.

- Anybody speak English?
- What you're asking them about...

I'll be amazed if any of them
manages a word.

- Where's your captain?
- At the Coast Guard office.

Angry as hell because we're due
on a New Jersey pier tomorrow morning.

You ain't gonna make it.

I gotta tell you, every day that you hold
us costs the shipping agent $100,000.

- The Atlantic Light is a huge enterprise.
- The Atlantic Light is a crime scene.

Don't try to play tough guy.

I'm not the one getting my ass kicked.

Talk to me!

Tell me what I need to know.

Get him up.

- Talk about the girls.
- No girls, nothing.

No English.

You no speak English,
but you know how to run?

Why you run from ship?

What the fuck that suppose to mean?

They got him in Philadelphia.

He jumped when he found out
the Coast Guard was gonna hold the ship.

- What is he?
- Sergei says he looks like an Arab.

He don't know nothing.

But you kept hitting him anyway.

Get his clothes.

If you don't mind, I'm gonna have one.

- Come on, let's talk.
- No English.

Tell me what happened to the girls?

No speak.

What then? What do you speak?

Come on, talk to me, friend.

Turkish?

You got that little hook on your nose.

Don't worry, patrioti.

I got nothing against the Turks.
That's the old world. This is the new.

Sam.

- I don't know nothing about--
- You know.

And you're going to tell me about it, too.
After that...

you're done, I give you my word.

We popped the can to let them take a bath.

Get some fresh air.

You gotta understand, my crew,
they pulling on their pootsos for weeks.

These girls, they looked pretty good.

- Katalavenis?
- Yes.

The men had cash to spend.

I admit it, I saw chance for business,
but that was all.

What happened?

One of the puttanas decided
she didn't want to be a puttana no more.

This one guy got rough with her.
The whore died.

The other ones saw.
I didn't know what to do.

- You kill one, then you kill them all.
- No, that was another man.

Another man, what man?

The one girl...

they saw, they knew.

Relax.

I gave you my word.

- Watch your shoes.
- Goddamn Turko.

Bleeds like a lamb.

In a year, each whore would bring
a quarter million. What is it?

$4 million.

Gone.

Malaka.

Anyway, there will be other girls.

This one...

no fingerprints.

- No face.
- That's not a problem.