Trailer. Frank is glad-handing some old union dudes at what looks like fucking Happy Hour: "What's the first thing a guy from Local 47 does after he gets laid?...Wipes the pepper spray from his eyes." HA HA HA not. The guys are cracking up when Johnny Fifty runs in, telling Frank, "Something's going on."
Outside, several emergency response teams are swarming the dock, sirens blaring.
In the container, Beadie doesn't seem to have moved, and is still standing in the doorway of the hidden room, her hand over her mouth. A first responder comes up behind her, with a flashlight of his own, and we finally get a shot of what they're looking at: it appears as though the floor of the compartment has been carpeted with dead girls. There are at least a dozen of them, all lying haphazardly on top of each other. After a moment, Beadie is overcome, and lurches out of the area, retching.
Outside, we see that some of the boxes have been unloaded. In a beautifully composed shot, Beadie stands, looking lost, amid the boxes, her cruiser behind her, and Nick and La La framed behind that, Frank charging up in the background. The other first-responder we'd seen behind Beadie has his back to the camera, apparently overcome by emotion, or the smell, or some combination of the two. Then he barfs. The camera pans over Beadie's shoulder to the stevedores, as La La reports to Frank, Ott, Johnny Fifty, and Horseface, "It's fucking girls, man. Young ones." "There's, like, a dozen of them," adds Nick. "Dead?" gruffs Frank. "They're dead?" Johnny Fifty shakes his head -- possibly praying under his breath -- as Frank stares, stricken, at the crime scene. A cruiser drives off, sirens sounding, off the pier, and the camera pulls back to show us the whole dockland as Frank contemplates the part he played in the girls' demise.