All language subtitles for The.Wire.S02E10.720p.BluRay.x264-GECKOS

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true

I find myself alone
when each day's through

Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you

Because you're mine, I walk the line

As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

And happiness I've known
proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line

You've got a way to keep me on your side

You give me cause for love that I can't hide

For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide

Because you're mine, I walk the line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine...

Fucking-A.

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

Down in the hole

You gotta help me keep the devil

Down in the hole

Yeah, shit is good.

Here. Next time we re-up, though,

tell Moe man we need about
700, 800 more of them dimes, all right?

I ain't even seen shit like this
since I don't know when.

- Same with the jumbos?
- Yeah, better get more of those too.

Uh-oh.

What the fuck is up now?
String, what's up, man?

What up? Can't call it.

- How's our package?
- How's it look? Shit is good.

See these Eastside motherfuckers
over here?

Extend to these motherfuckers all the
hospitality West Baltimore is famous for.

- You heard?
- You want us to fuck them up?

No, dawg.

We're giving them 221, 734, and Saratoga.

We keep the rest. If anybody start any shit
they'll have to answer to me, all right?

Directly.

You heard me, right?

All right.

What these off-brand niggers gonna do
with a project tower?

Fall back, young 'un.

We're gonna show y'all motherfuckers
how to grind out here, all right?

Hey, String.

Yo.

I heard you, man, I did.

But this shit right here,
it don't make no sense.

You like the new product we selling?

It make sense now?

What's up, homey? Yellow tops, right here.

- Where are we at with our boss man?
- We should be up on his phone soon.

- The PC is there, no question.
- We get on his cellphone, he's done.

We'll ID him, no problem.

I don't know. They came down off that
warehouse phone when we spooked 'em,

and Sobotka's cellphone, too.

We might be going up on a dead line.

This is the other way to go.

Compared to the wiretap,
it's the long way around.

But still, if he's changing up
on his cellphone...

Over the last week or so

we've not only confirmed the identities
of some of the key players,

we've also got GPS trackers on all their cars.

First of all...

Eton Ben-Eleazer.
He's the drug lieutenant in the warehouse.

- Eton.
- Whatever.

Our madam, Miss Ilona Petrovna.

George Glekas,
who runs the appliance store in Highlandtown

and the probable fence for the organization.

We followed them in real time.

With this little toy here,
there's something else we can do.

Wow.

That's seven days
of where our targets have been, sped up.

And lookit. Two locations only

where three or four cars stopped
at the same time for more than five minutes.

One "X" is a dive of a diner
down on South Clinton.

The other is on the western shore
of Fort Howard down past Edgemere.

We get up on these locations,
maybe we get a photo of the Boss Man.

- Or a tag number.
- It's totally cool.

- Where did you get this stuff?
- DEA for the trackers.

McNulty pulled the software
from his pals at the FBI field office.

We can pull Herc and Carver
off the warehouse and give them the diner.

McNulty, Bunk, you guys take Fort Howard.

What the fuck, Frank?

You might as well
start posting them things, right?

I mean, if you're gonna run,
you might as well come out and say so.

It ain't personal, Ott. I want to finish
what I started with the dredging issue.

And you don't think I'm good enough
to handle it.

It ain't about that, kiddo.

Ott, listen to me!

What the fuck do you want me to do?
Tell him where the money comes from?

- IBS, huh?
- Mm-hm.

Not to brag, but union racketeering
is one thing the Bureau does well.

That is exactly what I wanted to hear.
This case needs closure, boys.

And in my heart of hearts,

I know you're the kind of bastards
to put Sobotka where he needs to be.

One other thing
you Federals can help me with.

And if you don't mind,
a little discretion is called for.

That, right there,
is the district surveillance van

which was fully equipped
when it disappeared.

- A surveillance van?
- Sobotka stole it.

Now it's I-don't-know-where.

The last picture was from Seattle

but I got prints

from two other places, see?

You reported the van stolen, right?

It was my feeling that the theft
of a vehicle from a departmental lot

would reflect poorly on the department.

The thing is, I know you boys
have got enough reach

to maybe get the van back
without no big dustup.

As a favor for me
having brought you the whole case.

Motherfucking Eastside need to get their
asses back across town where they belong.

Yo, man, we run them off,
we run off the good dope, so...

I'm just saying,
they all the time hustling around,

cutting prices and doing shit. It ain't right.

Walk, nigger.

Yo, yo. What's up? What's up, soldier?

- Looking maybe to do something here.
- With him? This motherfucker?

I saw him on Ashland last week selling burns.

- Fuck y'all, nigger.
- Look, what did he say?

25, two dimes and a coke kicker.

I'll give you two dimes for 15,
plus the ice on top for free. What?

That'll work.

Take it in the lobby. I'll be right behind you.

That's what's up, see? Now we gotta sell
more of this good shit than they do.

What? Get the fuck out of here!

You mean to say there's a Westside nigger

who can sell shit
without sticking a pistol in a fiend's face?

Yeah, dawg. And you better get used to it

cos y'all ain't selling shit
until we bone-ass dry.

- Believe that.
- All right, nigger. Whatever, man.

All right, cottage cheese chest-ass
motherfucker.

Yeah.

- Where do you want it?
- There's good.

Easy.

- I'll help you set it up.
- You have a surveillance to cover?

- I got that feeling again.
- Like they don't think we're potty trained.

- Can I help you?
- FBI. Lieutenant Daniels?

He's in his office.

Without that billboard,
I wouldn't have known.

How could you have known?

- There was the wing tips.
- And the beady eyes. Definite giveaway.

- Tight asses.
- Definitely.

Lieutenant Daniels?
Agents Settles and Mason.

Major Valchek said you'd be expecting us.

You listening to this fool?

Saying that the Eastside
is wilder than Westside

cos of some shit
about Eastside folks drinking port wine

while the Westside do sherry?

Port make a man do crazy shit,
I'm telling you.

- Butchie, talk to this fool.
- For me, leastways,

the difference between East and West
goes back to one man.

- Frank Matthews.
- Pee Wee Matthews?

The brother went up New York
and got in bed with them Italians.

The only one from this town
got a piece of that French Connection.

What the hell Pee Wee
got to do with anything?

Cos Frank was Westside.
How do you like that? The dope flowed west.

When you got a steady supply,
you run shit like a business.

Somebody gets hurt, there's a reason.
Not like this foolishness we got today.

Excuse me.

What say, Omar?

Ain't no thing.

You know I got something for you, right?
Wouldn't come around unless I did.

What up, Butch? How you holding up?

Except for fretting on you, I'm good.

It's for my people.

A little something for a rainy day.

You built up a right nice-size nest
these past few years.

Might be time you maybe think
about backing off some?

Back off to what?

Later, Butch.

Stay, boy.

Damn, Zig, I ain't got it cut yet.

And turn that shit down, for Christ's sake.

Nicely done. Nicely done.

Like I always say,
it pays to go with a union card every time.

- Turn the fucking radio down, Zig.
- Will you get in the goddamn car already?

For Christ's sakes,
we ain't got all night. Jesus!

You could drive a tank through there,
it wouldn't take a scratch.

Where the fuck you going with this?

Greece. Athens, Greece.

The hole is so they don't think
it's an inside job.

So they don't look at the union.

Welcome aboard, chief.

Is that you?

Mm.

I thought you was gonna go shopping.

- Me?
- Yeah.

We round-the-clock with surveillance.

Uh... When do we get to the part
where you do all kind of shit for me?

When do we get to that part?

So you past the point
of lifting a grocery bag or two?

You try being me like this.

Something wrong?

Mm-mm.

The baby's kicking. Wanna feel?

Mm?

- Almost $4,000.
- I know it is.

The Greek guy, the one with the warehouse,
pays me in cash.

Keeps it off the books,
so he don't have to pay taxes.

- And you saved all that?
- He gave me a bump, too.

I'm pulling down seven a week.

You don't believe me?

Christ.

I was saving that up to give to you
for the new apartment.

You know what I'm saying, dawg?

But I don't understand how these hos
be acting sometimes and shit.

If I tell a bitch, I'm like,
"Bitch, either you suck dick or you don't."

- Gentlemen.
- What's up, my brother?

What? Are you slinging bean pies up in here?
You know what I mean?

You with the Nation, homey?
Cos either you're a Muslim

or your momma need to stop
laying your clothes out in the morning.

I'm here to represent the interests
of a Mr. Barksdale.

- Are you familiar with Mr. Barksdale?
- That name ring out but so do mine.

And you are?

Cheese, man.

Mr. Cheese. I see.

- Who do you work for, Mr. Cheese?
- Who do I work for?

Am I correct in assuming that
you are not employed by Mr. Barksdale?

Hell, yeah.

If that is the case,
then I have to insist that you leave.

- This nigger serious?
- Let me be emphatic.

Take your black ass across Charles Street
to where it belongs.

- What?
- Hold on, now. Hold on, now.

He don't know what this is.
It ain't what he think.

First of all, we got permission
to grind in these here towers.

Second of all, I don't give a fuck...

Aaaah.

Get off me, get off!

Pellets in plastic. Rat shot.

What you need to be concerned about
is what's seated in the chamber now -

a copper-jacketed, hollow point,
120-grain hot street load of my own creation.

So you need to think for just a moment
and ask yourself,

"What do I have to do
before this man raise up his gun again?"

Let's go.

Good day to you, sir.

I'm in agreement with the agents' assessment.

As far as I can see this case is an ideal
candidate for RICO prosecution.

My agency agrees RICO is the way to go,

so we'll be in your courthouse, not mine.

But I want one thing on record.

As of 9/11,
the Bureau has one priority in this case -

waterfront corruption.

It's a new world, and the ports are vulnerable.

This case is bigger than the union.

We're agreeing to take on the whole case

but the union
is why we're in the room with you.

If you're OK with that,
we work the case together.

We'll copy the Bureau's 302s
to the lieutenant and Miss Pearlman.

Your paperwork should cc Squad Six
and my office, as well. OK?

I'll start pumping your casework
into our system.

See what leads that might generate.

Oughtn't you be laid up resting?

A gunshot ain't nothing to trifle with.

Shoulder do hurt.

But this here work just fine.

Tell Stack to polish it up good
and put $7.50 on it.

Shame to let a good toaster get away
over a frayed cord.

First off, ain't nobody running
up in them projects.

Them Westside boys hurting over this
more than even you.

Trust me, soon as our good shit run out,
they fucked.

Second, a whole passel of hard-ass hitters

took a go at Brother Mouzone
and ain't lived to say shit about it.

We go at the boy,
no telling what might get stirred up.

If Stringer take a shot, he crosses Avon on it.

Put a bounty on him.

Let some bushwhacking fiend
back-shoot his ass.

I pin money on him
and first thing he come at me?

Shit. Might as well just shoot myself now
and get it over.

There is one boy
who might could just pull this off.

Only, he won't take contract money.

Aim for center mass.
Make sure the man goes down.

No problem.

I got the three on the left.

Fuck you, assholes.

- How you doing?
- How you doing, buddy?

The Samsung S221. You got that?

I don't see it.

Huh. Doing the old inventory, are we?

I hope there ain't been no thieving going on.

Not like the problem
we got down at the docks.

- You get the cars off?
- Sailed two hours ago on the Caspia.

Listed as scrap aluminum.
I got the bill of lading here.

Not here.

In my office.

Forgive me, but how am I to know

you did not ship them empty?

I just don't know. Let me see.

Maybe if I had a 4.0 Megapix,
three time optical, fully digitalized camera,

I could've taken some quality photos
of them Benzes in those cans.

But oops. I forgot my camera got busted.

Or you know what I could do?

I could get old Boris
to skulk around them docks,

keep the old commie red eye
on them containers.

Make sure the dock boys
are playing straight.

- They are what I order?
- Yes.

I got you the S series
in the colors that you wanted.

I got one parked outside. You wanna see?

Outside? Now?

I'm just taking her out for a spin, chief.
I'll put her back tonight.

Wait one.

Them cars list out at better than 60 thou each.

20% was last week. Today, the quote is ten.

Still, it's good money for a few hours' work.

No! Oh, no!

No fucking way!
We had a deal, motherfucker. A deal!

You listen to me. It was my fucking ass
out there on the line. Mine!

And this, this piddling shit
is the best that you come up with?

You don't play me like that! You don't!

Fuck you, you thieving, Greek cunt.

Malaka!

You don't know that one,
chief. But you know malaka, yes?

Now you know malaka with dress.

No, no.

Please.

Malaka.

Can you hear me?
If you can't talk, please stay on the line.

Get in the boat first, then put
the preserver on. It's easier that way.

Yeah?

Y'all trying to drown my ass for sure.

- Come on.
- Don't push me, man.

Rod.

Got it.

Here. Hold on to that.

Yeah. I know this one.

Stringer Bell come at me with this.

Say he got something with Omar
he need to make straight.

Didn't say what that might be?

Wouldn't tell me.
And to be truthful, I didn't want to know.

No. Mm-mm.

It don't feel right.

You know them Barksdale people
ain't to be trusted.

No denying all you say is true.
But Stringer talking parley.

So your boy needs to think
long and hard on this.

Cos if Omar living his day-to-day
in the street

there ain't no telling what their next step
might be if there ain't no sit-down.

- Parley?
- That's all he say he looking for.

I'll talk to him.

But if it feel funny to him the way it do to me,

I got a better chance
of putting a leash to the wind, you know?

If you think it might help, I can go protection.

- They're the one got hurt the last time.
- Then there was a reason to meet.

- This time feel different.
- I hear you.

Maybe Stringer's still trying to settle that beef

behind the fact
that he got to live in this city, too.

Omar being Omar.

If it ain't putting you out none,

I'd feel a powerful lot better
if my nephew took over protection.

Hayward.

Typed and ready for your John Hancock.

- Thanks.
- Sure.

You just have to initial each page
and then sign at the end.

I'm just checking.
This is the official record, right, chief?

It's what's gonna play in court.

Can I change something?

Yeah.

Just put your initials next to your changes.
It's no problem.

Yeah, it's only one.

- You know, you typed "said" here, see?
- "Said"?

Yeah.

He wasn't...

He wasn't saying, "Please don't shoot me."

It was more begging.

You know? Double G, he's begging me.

But that's not gonna mess you up,
though, right?

No, it's more descriptive like that.
It's good. Thanks.

Quiet. No one in or out of there.

It's kind of nice out here.
Moonlight on the water.

Waves lapping gently against the boat.

I'm working my regular eight.
I can handle it, you know?

But a detail like this...

That's what I'm asking.

If something comes up on the job,
how would you handle it?

I mean, at home with the kids.

Until now, not much came up.

But now, say something comes up.

I mean, say we do a raid or something.
What would you do?

I guess I'd try to get the sitter to stay.

Maybe call my folks, like I did tonight.

You know how it is with kids.
You gotta be there.

But you wouldn't miss it?

I mean, with everybody rolling out
and you having to head home?

If it keeps going like this,
I don't know what I'm gonna do.

- Thanks.
- It's no problem.

You wanna make a phone call to someone?

If you get over to Madison,
it might be some time before you can.

Ain't a chance I get bail, right?

How about family?

All right, to bring you up to speed,
we've got agents in Le Havre.

We've got the manifest from the Talco ship
that's due here in a few days.

See if we can't pinpoint
the origin for the containers.

That's a lot of cans.

110, actually.

How many agents you need to track back
to where all those cans came from?

As many as it takes.

We may be assholes but on the upside,
there's an awful lot of us.

Let me get this into the computer
for the boys overseas.

Anything from that shithole of a diner?

Herc and Carver had nothing overnight.

The feds took over this morning
and it's still quiet.

I'm going back on the water.

One meet and we're on this guy.

The Talco line's in Wednesday.
I'll send Nick for a number.

- The Greeks again?
- Who else?

They sure do stir up the shit, them Greeks do.

- Uncle Frank.
- Hey. Nicky boy, just in time.

- Uncle Frank.
- What? What happened?

- Ziggy.
- What the fuck is it this time?

He shot...

They're saying he shot two of the Greeks.

- Last night, they're saying.
- Shot?

- He shot?
- Fucking Christ!

He's locked up.
He's fucking charged with murder.

- The Greeks?
- Double G.

And one of the kids that works
down the store on the avenue with him.

They're saying he walked in there...

- He went in.
- Why was he there?

- Where the fuck were you?
- Uncle Frank, I didn't know.

What didn't you know?

- What is Ziggy doing near the Greeks?
- I don't know.

You don't know? You're supposed to.
You're his fucking cousin!

You're his father.

1, 125 kilograms.

Not that drug enforcement's my cup of tea

but I'm told
it was the largest crack seizure on record.

I just wish I had good news for you.

You told me this was a local effort.

It's sprawled. Now the Bureau's involved.
We're looking hard at the port unions.

My hands are tied.

They're on you with wiretaps.

Several phones, several addresses.

Stefanos.

Have the boy go to Eton.

Tell him to come right away to the other place.

- You're not calling?
- No phones. No more phones.

Adieu, my friend.

Hey. They forgot your fries.

No, they forgot your fries.

- My fries are right in here.
- Those are my fries.

Bitch, everything I say, you hear backwards.
The fries are mine, boy.

Go ahead.

Eat the fries, you fat fuck.
See if I fucking care.

What? You think I'm fat?

There's our boy.

- Lester, Eton's on the move.
- We got it.

- No need for an eyeball follow, right?
- No need.

A fine fucking kettle of fish.

I heard it but I had to come see it for myself.

- And sure enough...
- Major?

You know, I put my faith in you fucking feds.

You let me down.

- Major, we can talk in my office.
- Lieutenant.

It's Lieutenant, right?

I gave you a simple assignment.

That fella, the one in the corner.

And to make it happen, I gave you all this.

Good digs, people,

everything you needed.

And what did you give me?

Right up the fucking ass, Lieutenant.

- Major, you're going to get...
- Roland, get your shit.

You want to do it your way, fine.

But you ain't gonna use my people to fuck me.

- Get your gear. I'm pulling you.
- I got... There's work...

- You said...
- Get your narrow ass back to the district

before I slap you with insubordination.

Move, shitbird!

Jesus!

Detective, my office.

Yeah.

Ooh!

Base to 11-34.
Target number two is coming at your 20.

Copy that. We're on it good.

We're on the Boss.

My God.

- He shoots both?
- He kills George, right there in the store.

- Leaves the boy to bleed.
- For what?

An argument over a few cars?

- That little Polack?
- He's crazy, that one.

The police have him now. So...

The police still there?

Go to the store.

Whatever the police did not take,
papers, pictures, everything,

you clean it up.

The warehouse, too.
Everything gets clean now.

Everything.

And the phones are dead.

Did you see that? They just threw the phones.

11-34 to Surveillance.

- Standing by.
- We got our man.

Target number one is a white male, 40s, short,

wearing a tan shirt and a grey tam.

Copy your description.

11-34 to Surveillance,
both targets are on the move.

We can't make the vehicle
but you sure as hell can.

Copy.

What was he doing
with that thing in his hand?

Same thing you always do.

Probably sending a text message.
My kids are crazy over that.

That's our guy, right?

What's-his-face Sobotka
from the drug quarter?

I need to get with Vondas.

Who's that?

Spiros. Where is he?

I don't know no Spiros.

- No shit.
- He just up and clocked him?

- Daniels had everybody write what they saw.
- Even us suits.

That was smart. Daniels is sharp.

- Where's Prez now?
- Daniels took him home.

- I don't think he'll come back here.
- You never know.

He might have one of those psychological
bullshit things in his jacket

gives him immunity or something.

Valchek gave him immunity
and he just put Valchek on his ass.

- Nothing since the Fort Howard meet.
- They're dumping phones.

- Lester.
- Mm?

When you use a cellphone and
press "send," where does the call go to?

- Why are you asking?
- The Boss Man at Fort Howard.

He tosses the cellphone we're up on, right?

Then he pulls out another thingamajig,
and he types a message.

Text messaging.

It starts at one of those towers
they got up all over the place, right?

And ends up in a computer
at a wireless provider.

So if you knew when the call was made
could you trace the call to that tower?

If you could,
mightn't you get a phone number?

Then you got the billing details, right?

Do you have any idea
how many people use cellphones?

There must be hundreds of thousands
at any time.

What you need is another variable.

Another bit of data to help you isolate
your call from all the others.

What if you knew where the call was made?
I mean, exactly where it was made.

Well, we were out in the middle of nowhere.
Does that help narrow it down?

The Fort Howard sea wall.
It ain't exactly Charles and Baltimore Streets.

You've got another problem.
Which wireless company?

There must be what,
Verizon, MCI, AT&T, Sprint...

Shit, tin cans and a string.
You got dozens of them.

Lamar?

- Where's my Harper's?
- Say what?

Harper's. The new issue.

You said The New Republic and Atlantic
and a new something else.

I did not forget to tell you Harper's.

Every week I tell you the same shit
and every week you forget half of what I say.

Tomorrow, first thing, you go
to the newsstand and you get Harper's.

And The Nation, too,
which you also managed to forget.

You know what the most dangerous thing
in America is, right?

A nigger with a library card.

All damn day, he just sit there reading.

And damned if them Eastside bitches
don't stay away.

- That's real muscle, right there.
- True that.

What are we gonna do
when we start running out of good product?

That's what we need to ask ourselves.

Yo, Bodie,
if Stringer want the Eastside up in here,

then why Barksdale got a man
running them off?

Nothing.

This is getting us nowhere.
We got nothing under Pyramid Inc.

Or any of the targets
at any other cellular company.

It's on McNulty then.

11-35, you got the 20?

- I'm on the spot right now.
- Go.

10-4. Latitude first,
north, 39 degrees. 11.727.

Longitude west, 76 degrees. 26.628.

Now, this was a neat trick.
No one ever did it before.

Identified a cellphone using time and GPS.

We got everything on the phone
that was text messaging

from those coordinates at 16:45 hours today.

Just a subpoena?

With this, you can get account information
and a phone number.

With a search warrant you can get
two months of text messages.

You got two months of text messages
in this file?

I do, if you've got a warrant.

Tell you what, friend.

We're gonna start typing that warrant
tomorrow morning.

But right now,
we wouldn't mind taking a peek

at what my man's been up to
in the last 24 hours.

Exigent circumstances.

Thanks, brother.

Oh, fuck me.

Nothing's easy.

- What's up?
- They've dumped their phones.

We're trying to get onto
the Boss Man's text messaging.

Yeah?

They sent that Greek mess over as email.

After he inputs, the computer will translate it.

Got it.

Shit.

Hey, Prissy.

Thought you'd be here.

Fucking Ziggy.

When didn't he do dumb shit?

Remember when he forged
that age of majority card?

We all pooled our money.

You drove us over Brooklyn Park
to the Cut-Rate.

My mom's puke-yellow Chevy.

We told him specifically,

two bottles of Pikesville Rye and...

Southern Comfort for me.

What did fucknuts get?

Fucking Boone's Farm.

He said that's what the college kids drank.

But we did it up. Right here.

Yeah.

He stood up there, a bottle in each hand,

screaming loud enough to wake the nuns.

What the fuck did he say?

"College kids ain't shit!"

Goddamn, Zig.

- Yeah?
- Beadie, it's Kima.

Kima.

We're gonna take the Boss out.

- Raids? Tonight?
- Can you make it with your kids an' all?

No, no problem.
I can take them over to my parents'.

All right, we'll see you soon.

Kima, thanks for the call. Bye.

The judge wants to know how much longer.

We're close.