After nightfall, Carver has reached the cold rage phase of his anger over the bug, repeating how much it cost. We cut to the inside of their car, as Herc, riding shotgun, says that the bug "just couldn't stand up to the modern urban crime environment." That, and several tons of metal and rubber and a coupla three axles. Carver can't unclench his jaw to answer, but it doesn't matter: Herc tells him, "Slow up. This is it." Carver brakes next to that gigantic new truck, and Herc says that it's listed to Nick, for an address on Reynold Street. Carver parks a few cars up, and then asks Herc, "'Sobotka'?" Herc shrugs that that's what it says. "That mean anything to you?" asks Carver pointedly. It...doesn't. Which is unfortunate. Carver, calling Herc "Beavis" (heh), says that Nick shares a surname with "the guy [they're] supposed to be working. Frank Sobotka." Herc taps his paper: "But we got Nicholas." Carver, losing his patience: "How many fucking Sobotkas can there be, even down here in Polack town?" Herc considers this, and muses, "You know what this means?" Herc holds up the tennis ball: "It means old Fuzzy Dunlop here -- somewhat the worse for wear, I admit -- is really gonna start paying off as a confidential informant." Carver: "No fucking way." "Are you out twelve-fifty?" Herc points out. "Because linking a street-level drug connect to our main target has to be worth a couple hundred, for starters." Carver stares at him, pissed but still kind of wanting to be convinced. Herc explains that if he tries to register "Fuzzy Dunlop" as a CI, "Daniels will smell a rat." He says that Daniels trusts Carver, though: "You got that trustworthy look." So why not piss that away, right?
Bar. "It's you, Lester," says Bunk, only a little in the bag at this point. "Gotta be you." Lester, somewhat resigned, deliberately sets his beer bottle down on the bar, sighing, "Me, huh?" Lester recaps that they need to bring Daniels in on the murders -- "his detail and all the manpower and toys that go with it." Bunk adds that Daniels listens when Lester talks, since he has the wisdom of a big brother. Lester chuckles and sips his beer. Bunk gives Lester his biggest, brownest, glossiest puppy eyes as he says, "We all got roles to play." Lester asks what Bunk's role is. Bunk: "I'm just a humble motherfucker with a big-ass dick." That's what I read on the wall in the ladies' room. "You give yourself too much credit," says Lester, who must have read something different in the men's room. "Okay, then," says Bunk. "I ain't all that humble." Hee hee.
Kima's still sitting in her car, staking out Pyramid, when Sergei and another dude finally come to the fence and open it for some kind of fancy sedan. We can't see the driver, but the guy in the back seat is definitely Prop Joe. It's easy to recognize him even from this distance because...well, you know. "I'll be goddamned," breathes Kima. She picks up her camera and snaps off a couple of nice, clear night-vision shots of Prop Joe's face, and Sergei's. The car pulls into the lot and the guys close the gates again, leaving shrouded in mystery whatever propositions Prop Joe is about to make.