Marlo's SUV heads down the street, followed closely by Sydnor. They pass a restaurant just as Dukie's exiting, apparently still on his quest to find gainful employment. His demeanor leaving the restaurant suggests that the search is not going any more successfully than before. What's a fifteen-year-old with a limited education and no employable skills other than a cuddly personality to do? Perhaps the junkman down the street has the answer.
And we'll find out, just as soon as we get down with Sydnor's surveillance of Marlo. He's followed Marlo to the corner of Dolphin and Argyle, where the boss and Monk are meeting, as expected. But just then, Freamon's picking up another coded message at the detail office: this one's a clock reading 4:40:35, and it's an incoming message for Marlo. Sydnor confirms that Marlo is eyeballing the message, and Freamon states the obvious -- that it's not Monk who's messaging him. And it's not Chris and Snoop either, because they're neither on the move nor looking at their cell phones, according to their police tail. Indeed, that's the case throughout Marlo's crew. "Means we got somebody else on this network we don't yet know," Freamon concludes. Is this investigation about to turn into an extended look at who's in Marlo Stanfield's five?
I promised you vocational guidance from a junkman, and now here it is: Dukie is heading down the street at the precise moment the junkman is struggling to get a hollowed-out fridge onto his wagon. That's what we call "serendipity." Dukie runs up to lend a pair of helping hands, lifts the fridge onto the wagon, and hurts his hand in the process. Because it's not a complete Dukie experience until he's scarred physically or emotionally. Anyhow, the junkman doesn't have any cash to hand out just yet -- of course he doesn't -- but he's on his way to the scales, and if Dukie rides along and helps out along the way, there's a sawbuck in it for him. Engage in physical labor with only the promise of meager compensation at the end of the day? Hell, it sounds a lot better than what Dukie has going for him now, so he hops onto the wagon and off he and the junkman ride, either toward a wonderful new career or a horrible denouement.
At Homicide, McNulty has obviously just gotten a call from Freamon about the whole surveillance situation, because he's grabbing his coat and heading out the door. Kima, carrying an armload of folders, has other plans for the day: those folders contain parole info on known sex offenders in five zip codes, and she's going to go through each one to see if it matches the FBI's newly minted profile. Then, she's going to do the same thing with all the people they corralled at the pier the other day, too. McNulty can't bear it any longer: he grabs the files out of Kima's hands, places them on a nearby desk, and drags her off to an interrogation room, presumably to unburden his soul. I'm hoping Kima will unburden him of his nuts after he gets done telling his tale.