Episode Report Card Sobell: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Madame Evil's administration -- dead!
By Sobell | Season 2 | Episode 19 | Aired on 03.04.2007
Cut to a prison infirmary where a very hoarse C-Note is insisting that he needs a phone and he needs it now. He insists, "There's a man out there who's trying to hurt my family." The guard's all, "Whatever, crazy." C-Note tries to summon his super-powerful persuasive mojo, which works in six out of ten tight spots. This is one of those times. The guard, moved by the sight of C-Note on the verge of a nervous breakdown, eyes the phone meaningfully.
So we switch to the exterior of the Chicago FBI headquarters. Lang picks up the phone and C-Note says, "Uh, I need to speak to Mahone?" She stalls a little and he presses, "This is Benjamin Miles Franklin, and I need to speak to Mahone." We cut to Lang giving Wheeler the you're not going to want to miss this look. When Wheeler comes over, she explains, "It's Franklin for Mahone." Wheeler tells her he'll take it. She gives him a look like Really? (Lang's looks are always so damn eloquent compared to the dialogue she's saddled with.) Wheeler does and the ever-more-frustrated C-Note begs, "I want to leave a message for him. Tell him... you tell him that I'll do what he wants me to do, okay? I just need a little bit more time. I'll do it. Just don't hurt them. You hear me? Don't. Hurt. Them." Wheeler is staring at the phone, all, "What in the ham fat?" When C-Note hangs up, a very troubled-looking Wheeler excuses himself.
We zoom over to the Tunstall Shipyard in Chicago -- shipyard is one word, caption writers, not two (at least, that how we rolled in Newport News when I was growing up) -- anyhoodle, we're there because apparently Derek Sweeney works there. And OSHA does not, going by the incredible lack of hard hats around the place. Linc and Derek have one of the most sexually ambiguous reunions I've seen on this show, then Linc asks Derek to help him out with whatever is on a slip of paper. Oh, Prison Break, how you walk the line between suspense-building obfuscation and complete expository denial.
And now, in a swankier part of Chicago, the police sirens herald the advent of Madame Evil. I suppose the unholy host was unavailable to blow the horns of Hell? We cut to Kellerman focusing his scope on the back of a cop. Then it's back to the usual hubbub that lets us know how very secure the whole presidential motorcade thing usually is when conspiracy-puppets-gone-rogue aren't throwing a spanner into the works. The limo goes by with its usual phalanx of agents jogging beside it, and I wonder aloud for the umpteenth time, "They're jogging in black oxfords? The soles of their feet must be like hooves from the calluses."