Royce's office. The mayor's behind his desk, getting reamed by Davis, who says that if he gets a visit from a federal prosecutor, that's "all in the game," but that getting static from a Baltimore city police officer is unthinkable because he's raised so much money for Royce, and no one's that ungrateful. Royce tries (not that hard) to get a word in edgewise, but Davis barrels on, marveling that he'd get heat over money-laundering, and bitching that he doesn't have time to ask all the people he gets money from why they're giving it to him, or where it comes from: "I'll take any motherfucker's money if he givin' it away." Good to know Namond is in such illustrious company, ethics-wise. Royce says he doesn't want to know, and Davis spits that he has to leave before he loses his mind, barking that Royce needs to get his people in line. He stomps out, and Parker is right at the door, telling Royce before he's even said anything that Krawczyk is on Line 1, that he'll call Burrell and Demper. Before Parker's headed off to deal with that, Royce asks about the bald-headed driver in his detail -- where he came from. Parker shrugs that he thinks Hoskins brought him in. Royce snorts that Herc doesn't have a better rabbi than that, and Parker asks whether Royce wants Herc gone. Royce, loosening his tie, says he's going to think about it. He sinks heavily into a chair at his meeting table, and stares dispiritedly at the lit-up Line 1 and the tubby Polish crap he's about to get.