Detail office. A video tech has the feed from the port in Philadelphia up on an Avid machine, and we see it scrolling very quickly from one locale to another. Bunk bitches that the tape is fucked up, but the tech explains that it's "multiplexed": to save money, you get feed from ten cameras that play on one VHS tape. Our guy can sort it out with his software. The first thing we see is a car at a gate, stopped by a security guard. The guy in the shotgun seat flashes a badge, and Fitz comments that you seldom see a law-enforcement officer in a Mercedes. We can see another figure coming down a flight of stairs, and Lester says that could be their guy, "head still on." Heh. It certainly looks like Sam, as we see him steal off, the Mercedes in pursuit. Fitz implores Bunk to tell him they have cameras inside, and sure enough, they do: we see the car stop and the henchmen pop out to start kicking Sam's ass. "Jesus, my pants are wet," Bunk overshares. McNulty will be so hurt to learn that he had nothing to do with it...this time.

A fancy silver car pulls down an alley. A henchman nods at Stringer, who gets out of his black SUV, parked nearby, and walks up to chat with Prop Joe, who's sitting in the back seat. Prop Joe unceremoniously tells him that the re-up will be a week late. Stringer accepts this news, not having any other choice. Prop Joe asks how it went with Avon, and Stringer nods, "It's all good." We quickly switch to a shot through a camera lens, as a photo is quickly squeezed off just as Stringer and Prop Joe dap on it, and then another of Prop Joe's smug face as his car rolls on. Of course, it's McNulty, parked nearby, with Kima in the shotgun seat taking pictures. How did they know where to go? Bubbs? Or are they just that damn good? Maybe both. Kima gets another shot of Stringer, as he climbs into his truck, and chuckles: "Our old friend." McNulty doesn't have to say so, but I think his pants are wet, too.

I.B.S. hall. The camera next pans up the front page of the paper, with a big story on Frank in the top left column; we see it's Ringo reading it, dismayed. Nat enters and asks what's going on; Johnny Fifty tells him about the port cops "sitting on" the can from the Adriatica, and that the word is already out that it's "full of dope." Nat doesn't care about that, and impatiently snaps, "I mean about Frank." The shot widens out so that we can see a bunch of the guys we know are waiting there -- Horseface, Maui, Ott. Maui asks what the district council is saying, but before anyone can answer, Reese rolls in, smug as hell, trailed by Mason and Settles. Crossing her arms theatrically, she calls out Horseface, noting that, in light of his pending indictment, she'd have thought he'd stay away from the hall. "Ain't y'all got someplace to go?" says Nat curtly. Reese says that she just wanted to make it clear: "If there's no cleaning up in here, this local will be decertified." Settles takes over to explain what that would mean: a federal magistrate would be making the union's decisions. Reese recommends that they elect some new officers, "or the U.S. Attorney will padlock the door," leaving the guys on the outside. Once they've gone, Ott springs up angrily from his seat, smacks down his paper, and storms over to the bulletin board, where he pulls down a flyer for his own campaign (leaving Frank's in place), gruffing, "One man, one vote." He crumples up the paper and looks around at all the guys' admiring faces before stomping out.