In an otherwise empty cloth-napkin restaurant, Spiros, Eton, Glekas, The Greek, and a Slavic woman (we haven't seen her before) summit over dinner. Glekas can't believe someone was asking about him, and The Greek meaningfully drawls, "San Diego." Glekas's face: "Aw, fuck." The lone lady at the table dismissively says, "San Diego was a long time ago." The Greek says that Koutris doesn't know what was behind the call -- just that "the people asked." He turns to Spiros and says that he'd said the cops looking into the dead prostitutes were local. Spiros says that they were: "No FBI." The Greek recaps that they're only running clean containers, and Eton says that no one's watching or following. That you know of! Rookie. The Greek recaps that they also changed the warehouse phone, so he figures that there'll only be another day or two before they're back up to speed. Spiros says, "We'll have to do a favour for our friend," and The Greek starts talking about the Colombians who are going to short them on the chemicals. He gives a speech that was certainly not screened by the Colombian Tourism Department, saying that everyone's a terrorist there now, and judges are killed, and so forth. Well, every place seems bad if you concentrate on the bombs and the assassinations. At least there aren't any CHUDs! Spiros smoothly says that the Colombians who are screwing them over aren't with the guerillas: "They're trash." The Greek observes, "The world is a smaller place now. And the FBI cares very much about such things." He leans in to Spiros and coos, "Fair is fair, no?" Indeed it is. Look out, Colombia, you're about to have the FBI living so far up your butt, they'll be able to tell you how well your probiotic yogurt is working for you. Eton's phone rings...

...and at the detail office, Beadie reports, "Sergei's making a call." We hear Sergei and Eton talking about "clean" this and "La-Z-Boy" that, and planning meet. Bunk, pleased, asks whether Beadie recognizes the voice, and Beadie says, "That's the man from the warehouse phone, right?" "Same guy, new number," says Bunk. He picks up a nearby phone to call Rhonda at home: "Another affidavit, and we're back on the main stem." So much for Rhonda's home facial treatment.