Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

What the fuck you gonna do?
Port cops are sitting on a can that came off the Adriatica.
What's gonna happen, Nicky?
I mean, about Frank.
By the plan, it's a hot box, but there's no one on a pick-up.
You gotta do better than that, Lester.
This guy, Stephen Rados? What's he?
Look at this, Kima.
They said that whoever did that to them girls was dead.
of the security officer that was on this pier that night?
Him and the other Eastsiders moved into the Terrace...
That was Walt. Walt Stokes.
No one fucks with us on our turf.
Anything we could lift from the docks went straight to his store...
I guess we could offer up Dixon and Prop Joe to Narcotics.
Don't use the phone.
What I am saying to you is: I will take care of them myself.
Okay, listen.
The raids, the follow, one or both sent him underground.
he was a dead end.
No use in dragging a headless torso around further than you need.
-What's the verdict? -He did good for us.
Okay, thanks.
They killed my uncle.
What was she firing, yo?
"What about Kima? What's up with my girl?"
I'm gonna charge his narrow ass.
Defense wounds on both hands.
In all likelihood, Frank Sobotka was going to speak to that.
Under the Key Bridge.
You wanted us to get a place, right?
-Tape is fucked up. -It's multiplexed.
And what happened?
Instead of your union running out of this office...
I figure when the detail's over, I go back to straight narcotics.
He put himself in, talked about buying the gun.
He had to die.
Good looking out, Johnny.
Our old friend.
that if there's no cleaning up in here...
You want a coffee? Soda?
I don't know.
You're gonna do your son-in-law?
In Philly, they said.