Then they're in bare-brick bowels of a basement, in a hallway so grim I more than half-expect Miggs to fling his jizz in someone's face. Hey, that story took place in Baltimore too! Let's really not go there. Herc opens a sliding metal door to reveal a super-depressing windowless tomb. Um, I'd quit. And I say that having worked in a place like that -- cold-calling businesses trying to drum up work for the collection agency that employed me -- in a basement that I'm pretty sure didn't have a fire escape, as this hole probably doesn't either. But the difference is that I was seventeen at the time, and these people are grown-ups charged with protecting the public. I mean, come on now. The lights don't even work. "At least that works," offers Herc, indicating the ringing phone, which is sitting next to a goopy stain on the floor, a cigarette stuck to it. I seriously can't imagine what manner of biohazard that somewhat fresh-looking stain could be made of; I'm just saying, no one snuck down to this dungeon to eat Chinese food. Santangelo picks the receiver up and sets it down again, turning to his colleagues to explain, "It was for McNulty!" Hee. Bonding over shared hatred of another party is a great way to foster togetherness in a group, for sure, and everyone chuckles.
And where is McNulty? Stirring up more shit in Phelan's chambers: "They killed a fucking witness out of your court." Phelan's like, "You told me. I heard you. Quit angling for a gold star." McNulty complains some more about all the trouble he's in because of Phelan's calls, and Phelan replies, "Jimmy, you knew I was gonna make that call. Admit it." McNulty doesn't deny it, but his argument seems to be that he should have waited a couple of days, and maybe not mentioned McNulty's name. Phelan offers some meager defense that exposits that he used to be a prosecutor, and asks what McNulty wants him to do now. So McNulty says he wants Phelan to lean on Burrell for the detail. Phelan says that he heard personnel had already been detailed, to which McNulty scoffs, "Some detail." Uh, at least their asses showed up for work, dude. McNulty also complains about the "asshole lieutenant" (Daniels) who "thinks he can buy-bust his way to Avon Barksdale." Phelan suggests that they feed "the dead-witness angle" to the media, but McNulty argues that Barksdale will know, then, that "someone's working him." McNulty basically orders Phelan to tell Burrell that he lost a witness who testified in his courtroom, which will force the department to commit to the detail. Okay, Jimmy, I think now you can quit acting like Phelan's behind everything and you were just innocently answering his questions because you had to. Disingenuous is not a good colour on you. He adds, "And when you call Burrell this time, will you forget my fucking name?" Phelan chews his agreement.