Little Johnny's. Nick asks Spiros whether he spoke to Frank. Spiros nods. Nick asks how it went. "No problem," claims Spiros, handing Nick a folded slip of paper. "Three boxes. All of them on the Wilhelmina. And you should tell your uncle that it's three times the usual fee. For each." Nick kind of chokes a little at whatever gigantic number it is, and then tells Spiros that he checked on the chemicals: "We looked into that. I was worried, you know?" Sergei looks amused at Nick, trying to be a big boy by taking the initiative. Nick leans forward intensely, and says that before he delivers the product, he wants to know what Spiros & Co. need it for: "A bomb or some shit? I ain't down for that. You use that shit to process drugs, don't you? Cocaine." Objection! Leading the witness! Anyway, Spiros neither confirms nor denies. Nick is satisfied, regardless, and says that if they still want it, he has it on the Fairfield piers. Sergei asks when. Nick says it'll be the end of the week. Way to do your due diligence, there, Niko.
Newark. The agent has found the relevant holding pen and calls for a Maryska. A woman looks up, and the agent beckons her with his head toward the grate, telling McNulty that she's "good with English." She somnolently makes her way to the bars, and both she and McNulty crouch down so that he can pass her his photos under the grate. He explains that the women are all dead, and that he's trying to get word to their families. Maryska takes the photos and fans them out on the floor, where the rest of her cohorts can see them. There's a little Slavic conversation between Maryska and another woman, sitting on a bench against the wall. Maryska tells McNulty, "She wants to know, if she knows a girl, does she get to stay?" McNulty blinks. "Nyet," answers Maryska on his behalf, and gathers up the photos. She dolefully returns to the grate to slide them back to McNulty, who heads out with the agent. I hope this wasn't a day he was supposed to have seen his kids or anything.
Detail office. "A computer?" Daniels asks Bunk dubiously. Bunk says that it's "to run a trace on the missing containers in the port administration's database." Daniels asks what he's looking for. Beadie tentatively answers, "A pattern, for our case. We need to know who left those girls on the dock and why." Lester points out that the detail is supposed to be investigating Frank and the checkers anyway, "so folding one investigation into the other makes sense." "Not to me, it doesn't," says Daniels. "I'm not bringing your open murders anywhere near this detail. That's a loser for us." He says that they're going to bring in "a few drug rips," so that they can show that they gave Frank, and the union, "a quick fair look." That'll satisfy Burrell: "He returns the favour, and I'm out of the basement, and running an investigative unit again. You dirty me up with murders I can't solve, it doesn't play like that." Bunk sternly says that "Homicide is not the place to sprawl a case. Daniels sighs and shifts. Bunk goes on to say that Rawls and Jay "have no patience for anything but a quick shake." "We got enough room for it here, anyway," Lester attempts. Daniels glares at both cops (and Beadie) arrayed in front of him, sighs again, and finally relents, "You can set up here, at the offsite, and we can share information. But the murders stay with Homicide. Unless, of course, you find a suspect." He gets up and goes back to his office. Vic...tory? Eh, Rawls probably wouldn't like it, so I'll mark that whole scene in the "win" column.