Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Detective, my office.
Them Westside boys are hurting over this more than even you.
It's kind of nice out here. Moonlight on the water.
Harper's. The new issue.
A fine fucking kettle of fish.
You want to do it your way, fine.
-The Greeks again? -Who else?
That was smart. Daniels is sharp.
If Stringer takes a shot, he crosses Avon on it.
-You get the cars off? -Sailed two hours ago on the Caspia.
Maybe Stringer's still trying to settle that beef...
We go at the boy, no telling what might get stirred up.
Tell him to come right away to the other place.
everything you needed.
I don't know no Spiros.
The last picture was from Seattle...
Am I correct in assuming that you are not employed by Mr. Barksdale?
Anything from that shithole of a diner?
Tell you what, friend.
I'd feel a powerful lot better if my nephew took over protection.
Mr Cheese. I see.
Not to brag, but union racketeering is one thing the Bureau does well.
Still, it's good money for a few hours' work.
I could've taken some quality photos of them Benzes in those cans.
to maybe get the van back without no big dustup.
My agency agrees RICO is the way to go, so we'll be in your courthouse, not mine.
-Looking maybe to do something here. -With him? This motherfucker?
Listed as scrap aluminum. I got the bill of lading right here.
Adieu, my friend.
who knows how to sell shit without sticking a pistol in a fiend's face?
Fucking Boone's Farm.
I mean, with everybody rolling out and you having to head home?
-Gentlemen. -What's up, my brother?
Tell Stack to polish it up good and put $7.50 on it.
and the probable fence for the organization. We followed some of them in real time.
Thanks, brother.
The other is on the western shore of Fort Howard down past Edgemere.
You get that, then you got the billing details, right?
Longitude: West, 76 degrees. 26.628.
'Cause if you could, mightn't you get a phone number?