Madame Evil's administration -- dead!

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It is hard to determine which character had the worst episode. Was it…

…Sucre, Bellick, or T-Bag? They're all consigned to B-plot hell in a caper involving that damn $5 million.

…C-Note? He is saddled not only with a very sore throat, but also with the nagging worry that Mahone will eat his family. C-Note's new best friend, Agent Walker, has persuaded the family man to help build the case against our favorite renegade agent.

…Mahone? Although his kicking in the door of Dr. Sara's plushy Chicago hotel room was very take-charge and hot, he soon unraveled and so Dr. Sara was able to eventually get the best of him. Or did she? Because, you see, Mahone apparently had a bead on Dr. Sara's personality, so he built up some junkie-to-junkie sympathy, then created a plausible surrender. And now she's off, tailed by Agent Lang.

…Dr. Sara? Because y'all, that hair is looking seriously rough. However, it pleases me that she is at least holding on to her purse wherever she goes.

…Lincoln? Actually, scratch him. He's doing okay this episode: an old friend not only hooks him up with tickets to South America, the guy also throws in a six-pack of beer and $50. We should all have friends that liquor us up and give us pizza money before arranging our flight from the country.

…Michael? It could be argued he had a rough go of it, because his note-passing to President Reynolds (a.k.a. Madame Evil) not only brings him to Kim's attention, it also brings on a few nosebleeds courtesy of Kim himself. And then, when he finally convinces Madame Evil that he will release her icky secret to the public and he's all, "Yippee! Linc and I are about to be pardoned! I…suppose I will engage in a prison romance with the woman I just said I loved, for I did not ask for her to get off the hook. Anyhoodle, yippee!" …ANYWAY, after the gently bleeding Michaael is convinced it is all going to work out, Madame Evil yanks away the hope of a pardon.

…Madame Evil? Not only does Michael Scofield threaten to blow the lid off one of her big secrets (she and Terence liked to play Chris & Cathy Dollanganger), Agent Kim threatens to blow the lid off another (she killed her predecessor) if she goes through with pardoning the brothers. Madame Evil outfoxes them both. She uses a press conference to declare that she has TV Cancer ("Yes, it is both malignant and making me more fabulous-looking by the moment"). Nobody has any leverage over her anymore. On the down side, she is no longer leader of the free world.

…Agent Kim? After all, not only did he not get to kill Scofield, his plan to make Madame Evil play ball gloriously backfired on national TV.

…Kellerman? After all, the poor baby didn't get a chance to kill anyone. Want more? The full recap starts right below!

You will recall that the last episode left us hanging: the be-noosed C-Note had been impelled to kill himself lest Mahone eat his family, and we cut out right as C-Note stepped off the bunk in preparation for hanging himself. When we begin this episode, we see that C-Note's done a very poor job of hanging himself. No instant snapping of the neck, or even passing out from asphyxiation for him! Instead, we get a blurry view of the jail as C-Note swings back and forth, back and forth. A guard soon notices that C-Note appears to have turned himself into a prisoner piñata, and he shouts for the cell to be opened.

We get an unintentionally hilarious shot of C-Note -- it's so, so evident that Rockmond Dunbar's in a harness, and so he's just dangling like a kitten in its mother's mouth -- and then C-Note is rescued by the prison authorities, who are too concerned about things like "breathing" and "heart rate" to ask how their prisoner got a length of clean hemp rope.

Then we zoom back to Chicago, where throngs of voters in thrall to the forces of evil have rallied to cheer for President Reynolds, a.k.a. Madame Evil. High above the ground, Kellerman loads his giant gun, positions it on his shoulder (we do not hear the crisp snapping noises that accompany his bones being crushed beneath its massive bulk), then looks through the scope.

Cut to the plushy hotel where Michael, Linc, and Dr. Sara are hiding out. Michael, Linc and Dr. Sara are still standing around, in shock over the whole "well, this tape isn't good for anything other than blackmail" revelation of last week. Michael politely ushers Cooper Green out with "Thank you for your help, but there's nothing more you can do for us."

Then, as the brothers talk, we see a wild-eyed Mahone sprinting up the hotel's stairs. He is in remarkably good cardio shape for someone whose main hobbies appear to be talking people into killing themselves, and brooding over birdbaths. I guess those nervous freakouts he has keep him young at heart. ANYWAY. He is racing toward the room. Michael is planning to head someplace ten minutes away, and Linc brings the doom and gloom with, "If this doesn't work, we're going to need a way out for good." Michael tells him that's his job; he does not add, "After all, I am the one who has planned nearly everything else." The two brothers quickly establish that an acquaintance named Derek Sweeney will help them out here. Then Michael asks Dr. Sara, "This is your neck of the woods. Wanna give me a corner?" She gives him 3rd and Racine. Michael tells her he'll be there at 3:15. Then he looks up and says, "If anything happens, I love you both." Linc either has the best poker face on the planet or else Michael's been talking in his sleep, because the only one who registers any surprise at hearing Michael say anything aloud is Dr. Sara. She's so surprised she can't even respond, "Um, thanks?" or "Me too" or "Do you mean you love us both like siblings, or that you love one of us in a fraternal one and one of us in a when-a-man-and-a-lady-have-special-feelings way?" Shortly after Michael's quiet exit, Linc silently leaves as well. Dr. Sara looks relieved not to be on the other end of another declaration of love.

This is when Mahone finally makes it to their floor -- not at all winded, so whatever workout he's doing, I want to do too, if it means I can sprint ten flights without sucking wind once. Within short order, he's kicked in the door to the room. Dr. Sara's rolled under the bed. Gun drawn, Mahone patrols the room. He notices that there's a mobile phone adapter on the floor. The light bulb goes on over his head and he quickly glances under the bed. We switch to Dr. Sara under the bed, and she watches his shoes pace away. There's the slam of a door, and Dr. Sara lifts the bed skirt right as I'm yelling at the TV, "You fool! He's only tricking you into thinking he's gone!"

She pushes her bag out, soon follows suit -- and wow, does that angle demonstrate that indeed, Sarah Wayne Callies is expecting -- then stands up. Then, proving she's learned very little during her brief tenure as a fugitive, Dr. Sara does not grab the table lamp as a weapon and confirm that the suite is empty. Instead, she pops open her mobile and goes to dial, and as she rounds the corner, she runs right into the barrel of Mahone's gun. Mahone orders her to sit down.

Credits and commercials. Hey, didn't Michael used to have tattoos? Whatever happened to those?

Back to the hotel room. The previously calm and deliberative Mahone is now all twitchy. His words tumble over one another as he asks, "When were they here, five minutes, ten minutes ago?" Dr. Sara lies, "They were never here." Still speaking at 78 rpm, Mahone insists, "No, no, no, they were here, I know they were here! Where did they go?" I refuse to believe this is just adrenaline after bagging his quarry. Dr. Sara tells him she doesn't know; Mahone believes otherwise. Dr. Sara says, "He decided it was for the best, and I couldn't... take this anymore." Mahone asks if it's over. Dr. Sara says it is. He presses, "It's over like the time you flew to New Mexico, on that dead woman's ID to meet up with him? Or maybe it's over like the time that you met up and got back together at that train station in Evansville. Or maybe it's over like the day, today, when you checked into this hotel two hours ago. Which one is it like?" They begin yelling at each other, and after Mahone shouts, "No phone call, like he's not going to call you?" Dr. Sara slaps her mobile on the table. Mahone says, "Don't lie to me. You don't want to do that." Dr. Sara watches him with wide eyes.

And now we cut to Mexico City, Mexico, where Bellick and T-Bag's flight has just landed. T-Bag -- or would that be "Doctor" T-Bag? -- heads down to the baggage claim to seize his bag. I... am going to pretend that he's actually got to switch airlines or something, because otherwise, wouldn't his bag just be marked for Bangkok and he'd cool his heels in the airport cantina between flights? Sound good? Anyway, T-Bag sees his bag roll by. Unfortunately, it happens to roll by Bellick, who doesn't recognize it at all. Frankly, were I to have been robbed of a duffel bag full of money by my Cleveland-Steamer-loving ex-compadre, the exact make and model would be seared on my retinas forever, or until I had found the bag again. Instead, Bellick leans over to (politely) ask a young lady something, and she manages the international sign for "radiating disgust from every pore" as she replies, "No habla Ingles." T-Bag nervously watches the bag pass by Bellick on the carousel and head back into the baggage-handling area before it swings around again. He quickly ducks back there to fetch his bag, and things quickly get ridiculous. Long story short: T-Bag must use his superpowers to beat the living crap out of the employee who's all, "Hey... you don't belong back here," and after the ensuing scuffle, he's forced to flee without the bag.

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."

Madame Evil gets out and we go to the scope's-eye view. Unfortunately the best shot he can get would require taking out a little girl, and it appears that Kellerman can't bring himself to perforate a toddler as collateral damage. So we get Madame Reynolds working the front of the crowd, and it's all smiles until Michael grabs her hand and won't let go. A couple of agents promptly take him down. Kellerman looks up from the scope with a hearty eye-roll and a sigh. He prepares to leave his post. Madame Evil ducks inside the hotel and we see that she's got a note in her hand. She reads, "We have the tape."

And we have commercials. Oh, good, videogames about war, just in case we get tired of the real ones we're currently fighting.

Michael has his jacket yanked over his head so he can't see where he's going, and a bunch of Secret Service agents are marching him through the bowels of the hotel. Eventually, he's seated in the kitchen. The agents take Michael's jacket off his head and he rolls his eyes. That is sure to go over well. Agent Kim comes strolling out of the shadows, determines that it's unlikely anyone in the press saw Michael go down, then orders, "Get everyone out here." When an actual, competent agent brings up protocol, Agent Kim pitches a tiny hissy and pulls rank, so the rest of the guys soon file out.

Kim asks Michael where Linc is. Michael says, "I need to see the President." Kim: "Really? You think that's a possibility?" Unfortunately, his Patronizing Rays have met their match in Michael's Smug Shield. Michael says that Madame President will want to hear what Michael has to say. Agent Kim doubts that. Agent Kim should realize that he is, once again, on the wrong side of history here. Hasn't his series of failures over the past few episodes sunken in yet? Kim leans in and leers, "The only person you get to talk to is me." Michael's expression communicates volumes about how little he thinks of that option. Kim adds, "The only way you're going to live through the hour is if you tell me where to find your brother."

Michael says, "Okay. He's in a safe place." Kim would like Michael to be more specific. Lips curling with contempt, Michael replies, "Specifically a place where you will never find him." Kim is delighted, because now this gives him the excuse to whip off his coat and slip into Villain Cliché #23: the tedious expository monologue outlining his bona fides in sadism. In this case, it also comes with Villain Cliché #23b: the self-consciously ironic twist. Let's listen in! Kim says, "I had the honor of attending Montfort Military Academy, whose mission is to ensure the greatness of this country, its future leadership; encouraging patriotism; building a strong moral foundation; and providing the service of men committed to the values of honor, freedom and country." Kim stops and smiles as if to say, " ... suckers." Then he adds, "But first and foremost, they taught you this," and by "this," he means, "when honor won't cut it, punch a man tied to a chair."

After a few moments of Michael being tenderized, we cut to Rio Juarez, Mexico. I refuse to recap any scene with Maricruz and Sucre in bed on principle. I love how Tia Conveniencia gets to run the llama farm by herself while Sucre and Maricruz snack in bed all day and watch TV. Not that Mexican TV isn't excellent -- there is much we could learn from Sabado Gigante and transplant to CBS Nightly News with Katie Couric. Anyway, since Maricruz is allegedly With Child and therefore eating all sorts of things, she kicks Sucre out of bed to get her more cherries. As he's putting on his pants, a special news bulletin comes on. We see a security-camera shot of the fleeing T-Bag and Sucre mutters in Spanish, "I can't believe it." Within seconds, Sucre has figured out that T-Bag doesn't have his big bag of cash. Sucre says, "Unless he lost it there... " and Maricruz asks him to just cut out the felonious thoughts. She says, "Forget it! Look what we have together." A situation where they're living rent-free and lolling around in bed eating cherries all day? That's pretty sweet. Maricruz sensibly asks, "Do you want to risk that?" I don't! I don't! Sucre agrees. Then he goes out to get the cherries. Maricruz watches him leave with an expression that suggests she suspects he might make a side trip to the baggage claim in Mexico City.

Back in a plushy Chicago hotel room, Mahone and Dr. Sara are still keeping company. Mahone's hair is standing on end; it's as if he ran a vacuum cleaner through it. Dr. Sara looks like she's about to say something, then remembers that she groomed herself with an eggbeater this morning. We see Mahone typing out something to Lang, and then he's all shaky as he swallows some of Mahone's Little Helpers. From over on the couch, Dr. Sara says, "You gotta know it's not real hard for me to recognize a junkie. I-I-I'm saying, you don't look so good." Mahone whirls around and snaps that he's fine. And he is, but the man would look even finer if he combed his hair. I'm just saying. Dr. Sara gently probes into what Mahone's taking. He curtly asks if she wants one, and she stammers that she does not. Mahone tosses her a pill and says, "Save it for later." She reads the capsule: "Varatril." Is that the same thing as Midazolam? Because I seem to remember him being hooked on that drug. Ah, well -- both Varatril and Midazolam are benzodiazepines, which Dr. Sara calls "hard-core tranquilizers." She asks if Mahone takes them daily. He tells her he's knocking back 20 milligrams. She says, with begrudging empathy, "You must feel like you're walking underwater." No, that was on thelastshow he was on. But Mahone gives his best thousand-yard stare and says, "I do. It's very quiet down here." Dr. Sara asks, "That's why you started, right? Peace and quiet? That's not why you do it anymore, is it? Now, it's the headaches, right? You don't sleep. And you know you're going to destroy yourself, right?" Mahone turns away and gets fidgety again. He says to Dr. Sara, "I hope we hear from your boyfriend."

I'm sure he'll call once he's done coughing up blood. Kim politely waits for him to finish before getting all up in his grill and saying, "There's one difference between me and Agent Mahone." Mahone's enjoyed a modicum of success in knocking items off the ol' to-kill list while Kim has not? Mahone manages to catch his prey through guile and fieldwork instead of waiting for them to walk up to him? I'm just spitballing. No, Kim says that the difference is that Mahone is too focused on his ultimate goal -- bringing in Linc -- while Kim would be just as happy to kill Michael and wing it from there. Right as he whips out his gun and says, "One down, one to go," Madame President barges into the kitchen, saying forcefully, "I need to talk to Mr. Scofield -- alone." Ah, Agent Kim -- I see that circumstances have overtaken you again.

Commercials. Ah, Wedding Bells. I believe you have already outlasted girls club. At least, in terms of promotion, you seem to have.

When we come back, we're still looking at the barrel of a gun. Kim is reluctant to direct it away from Michael's brain-filled skull. Madame Evil eventually stares Kim down. Michael -- who appears to have been tenderized and is now oven-ready -- just sort of flops there and pants. As Michael slowly struggles upright in the chair, Kim comes over, pulls off his latex gloves, and asks if he might have a word. Kim tries the you're-in-danger-if-you're-in-here-alone-with-the-pulpy-tied-up-guy angle, but Madame Evil says, "My men are right outside this door. I have a right to privacy." Struggling to keep his temper, Kim says, "Your rights are my first concern." Madame Evil's not buying it. Ice hanging from every syllable, she spits, "Do I need to remind you who you're talking to? Step outside and close the door behind you." Wrapping his air of ineffable smugness around him and huffing once for Michael's benefit, Kim takes his leave.

Madame Evil stalks over and stands about eight feet away from Michael. She says, in a tone of derisive amazement, "The things you do for your brother, it's impressive." Michael ripostes, "I could say the same for you. [spits] But I won't." Madame Evil disabuses Michael of the notion that she gives a flea's narrow ass about his opinion of her, then strides over to ask if he might have the tape on him. Of course not. Madame Evil muses, "I'm not sure what exactly is on this tape, but I doubt it's of any interest to me." Michael says it's a conversation between Madame Evil and Steadman, and right after she laughs that she had millions of conversations with Steadman in his lifetime, Michael wheezes, "I'll narrow it down for you: it happened some time after his 'death..' And this particular conversation, you might want to keep in the family."

For some reason, the phrase "keep in the family" makes Madame Evil nervous. She wants to know where the tape is. Michael claims there are twenty different copies in twenty different locations. He offers, "I can call my brother right now and he can play it for you." Madame Evil is visibly agitated now; she snaps, "Not on the phone. Have him bring it here."

Michael is back in a fine negotiating fettle: "These are the terms: you can hear it over the phone, or you can hear it on the news. It's up to you." Madame Evil's supercilious attitude is all gone. We get a shot of her bleak-looking face.

Then there's a great transition to Mahone wearing a similarly bleak expression. Dr. Sara is trying to connect with him, saying she began using for the same reasons he did. Mahone snaps, "Why, because you had to stay up all night during residency? Because the bass player dumped you in front of the whole sorority? Yeah, you and I got a lot in common." Dr. Sara snaps, "It was the lead guitarist, if you must know." Oh, she doesn't either. Instead, she posits that she and Mahone, they've got a lot in common because they've both seen people die. Mahone pointedly asks if she is the one what did the killin'. He then whips out his gun and shakily says, "For your sake, I hope your boyfriend calls back real soon."

And now, chickens. Of course. Sucre's come back from his cherry-picking mission, and right as he heads into the house, he notices something's up -- there's nobody there. Sucre goes through the empty rooms, calling names ... and then turns around to see that Bellick's sticking a taser in his face. Well, at least it wasn't a chair to the head like T-Bag got. We learn that the ladies are out picking apples, and if Sucre wants to make sure neither one of them ends up on the business end of a taser, he should come with Bellick.

We cut to Linc, who's just gotten a phone call. He opens the phone and Madame Evil says, in her precise and curdled diction, "Lincoln Burrows?" "Caroline Reynolds," he replies. We cut to Madame Evil, who takes a deep breath before saying, "I understand you have something for me." There's a long pause. Madame Evil asks if Linc's there, and he snarls, "I'm here. It's good to finally talk to you. I wish I had the chance one of those 242 nights I spent on death row." Reynolds is all, "I really didn't call to ask how you were. Just play the tape." Let's all listen to the tape together:

Madame Evil: It's awful, I know. But the choice was clear. You needed to be far away from all this.

Terence Steadman: I'm the Isle of Terrence, far off to sea.
Madame Evil: But I'm still here for you. Now listen to me: don't dwell on the negative.
Terence Steadman: People deserve to dwell, Caroline.
Madame Evil: You know I'm only a phone call away.
Terence Steadman: Mmm-hmmm. And 3000 miles. Do you know how cold it is here?
Madame Evil: We talked about this, Terrence. You knew that you would be lonely, but it's only temporary. The appeals process has started already -- this is going to fly by quicker than your twenties! And soon the world will forget all about him, and they'll forget about you too, I promise.
Terence Steadman: But it's killing me, not being able to see you, sweet Caroline.
Madame Evil: I want to see you too, but that can't happen right now.
Terence Steadman: The house is so big. I just -- I just think of you, lying in bed ...
Madame Evil: I know. Me too.
Terence Steadman: The warmth of your touch --

Mercifully, that is when Madame Evil snaps the phone shut. I can only imagine that the reason Michael, Linc, and Dr. Sara were busy gaping through all of the last episode is because they did not have the sense to hit CTRL-Q when the phone call began degenerating into the 1-900 stuff.

Also -- putting aside that whole consensual incest thing, because really, I don't want to think about it long enough to make any jokes about it, I just have to say this: Oh, Caroline. Steadman? Really? STEADMAN? You could have had Kellerman and you went with Steadman? That part I absolutely do not get.

Anyway, back to Madame Evil in the kitchen with Michael. She looks grief-stricken. Well, it has to have sucked to have had her brother/lover die some time in the last week and her not able to express any grief at all because the world thinks he's been dead for two years. Then again, if Madame Evil hadn't lied about his death, maybe the whole situation wouldn't have come back to bite her in the ass. She turns around to look at Michael. Her expression is only half-composed; his is entirely resolute, if a little bloody.

Madame Evil asks, "Was it quick, when he killed himself?" Michael replies, "It was a lot quicker than how my father died. They shot him, in the back. He died in my arms." Madame Evil says, "I just want to know what happened." Michael tells her: Steadman apologized, then he shot himself in the head. He adds, "It was quick and it was his decision. Now it's time for you to make yours." He Blue Steels her, and we see that Agent Kim has once again screwed up: blackening both of Michael's eyes and dulling the power of the Blue Steel should have been his first order of business.

Speaking of decision-making, C-Note is busy trying to avoid making whatever decision Agent Wheeler has just put before him. He says, "You don't get it, do you? You can't stop this guy." Wheeler says that with C-Note's help, he can. "You tell me what's going on, I can take care of you. You've got to trust me, Mr. Franklin," he urges. I would love, love, love it if it turned out that Wheeler was actually a reform-minded good guy. This show is brimming with morally-compromised antiheroes, and I'd love to see a character who's committing to doing good. However, I fear that Wheeler is merely another cog in the One World Conspiracy. Wheeler then looks down at his notes and looks up, asking, "C-Note, right?" C-Note rolls his eyes all, Lord, save me from the WASPs who are trying to "get down" with a man. Wheeler brings out a tape recorder and asks C-Note to tell him exactly what Mahone had said, finishing, "If you give me Mahone, I'll give you your life back."

Having gotten to C-Note's cliffhanger of the week, it's time to wrap up the Sucre and Bellick storyline for this episode. Bellick has Sucre cuffed, and as he walks him through the house, he gloats, "God's been smiling down on me, I can tell you that. First I cuffed Haywire up in [Wisconsin], but he did a swan dive off a grain elevator before I could put him away -- but I still get the reward! And --" Sucre interrupts to ask with genuine pity and curiosity, "He's dead?" Bellick cheerily confirms this is so. He then adds that Sucre's fine ass is worth $100,000 in reward money. Thinking fast, Sucre says, "Wait, wait, wait! What if I know where you can get $5 million dollars?" Bellick goes slack-jawed with avarice. Sucre presses his advantage, smiling, "You heard me... I can take you there. And you don't have to take me back to the States and turn me back in. T-Bag's in town." Bellick blinks the dollar signs out of his eyes and asks thickly, "Where is he?" Sucre confidently assures him, "I can take you to him." Oh, these two working together promise to be nearly as fun as Car of Comedy Gold.

Back in the kitchen, Madame Evil is actually sitting down now, very near Michael. She tells him, "A long time ago, I agreed to put my country ahead of myself, as a mother does for a child. And I thought what I was doing was noble and I would be rewarded." Michael, who has some very recent and bitter experience in putting someone else's welfare above his own, says, "You were wrong." Madame Evil cries, "Can't you see that I'm a pawn in this too! The power that has taken over this country is like a cancer, and it will stop at nothing. It is out of my control." Michael is unmoved. Madame Evil asks him what he wants. Michael replies, "Uncuff me... I want you to arrange for me to walk away from here alone, under no surveillance... and finally, I want a presidential pardon for me and my brother, fully exonerating us of all our crimes, and I want it today."

Well, the nice people who make commercials want us kiss frogs and get yet more credit cards. We'll see who's more likely to get what they want.

When we get back from commercials, Madame Evil is explaining to the gently leaking Michael why she can't just hand out pardons: "There is a process and rules." I smell a new Schoolhouse rock in the making! "I'm only a pardon, not much worth regardin', unless it's for taking the fall ... " Michael isn't buying it. He tells her, "A document will be delivered for your approval, just like any other pardon. You'll sign it, and file it with the attorney general, who will submit it to the presidential record." Madame Evil offers some resistance to the idea of announcing the pardon, saying she'd rather sign the document on the QT, but Michael split-lips off to her about how, thanks to the assorted nefarious machinations of the One World Conspiracy, he has a hard time believing she will do anything if there's a paper trail. "It's so easy to lose," he sneers of the paper, adding, "I want you to go out there and announce our full pardon on live T.V."

Madame Evil scoffs, "You're insane! That is not the way things are done. This is not a vacuum! People will ask questions." Michael leans forward in the chair and snarls, "Pardon! On stage! Now!" Madame Evil looks down at Michael and imagines the headlines in the Washington Post if the tape gets out. She asks, "And how will I know you won't release the tape an hour later?" Michael grins mirthlessly before replying, "You don't. You're just going to have to take my word for it." I bet he makes a hell of a poker player. There's some more back-and-forth, and we're supposed to see how evenly matched they are in terms of strategic thinking, and Michael finally says, "Caroline, it's time. Make your choice."

Cut to Madame Evil slicing through the swinging doors and briskly giving orders to have Michael uncuffed and released. Kim does not do the palm-to-face move, but he might as well. Madame Evil says, determination lacing every syllable, "I am going to make an announcement pardoning Mr. Burrows and Mr. Scofield, and he will walk away unharmed." Kim has a better idea: just kill Michael right now. He asks, "You're going to let them walk?" Madame Evil leans in and reminds him, "I am the Commander-In-Chief and you are a corporate lackey. I'm making the call, and you have no authority."

We see Michael come out, dressed in his jacket and cap again and looking surprisingly perambulatory for someone who was smacked around for an hour by Agent Kim. Perhaps Agent Kim hits like a small child. As Michael approaches Madame Evil and Agent Kim, she turns first to Michael, then Kim, as she grits, "My men will see to it that Mr. Scofield will walk away without the interference of you and your pit bulls." The "so fuck off, you craven conspiracy weasel" is implied, but we can all see it hanging in the air, juuuuust out of reach of the FCC. Madame Evil should give lessons on how to put people in their place using only a ninth-grade vocabulary. She's very good at it. Everyone heads off, leaving Agent Kim to fulminate all by his lonesome. He does not have the same poker face Michael and Madame Evil has. (However, I suspect he's good at Clue, quite possibly because he cheats.)

The waiting Linc hears a knock on the office door. It's his good buddy Derek, come back with gifts: three one-way tickets (the fugitives will be sharing a cabin and oh, would that it were Cabin of Comedy Gold instead of Cabin of My Brother, For Whom I Sacrificed Anything, Is Getting In the Way of My Scoring with My New Girlfriend, And Wow, Isn't This Awkward?); a six-pack of beer, and $50 --half the winnings of a bet Linc inadvertently won for Derek. The guy explains, "When you broke out, Eddie bet me a hundred bucks you'd be caught within a week. I said, 'No way -- not the Linc I know. I figured I'd split it with ya.'" This guy is all right! I would want him to engineer my escape from the U.S. The two of them shake hands because they're too manly to hug, then Linc is left to wait for Michael.

We flash to Michael, who's hustling to his appointed meeting with Dr. Sara. We flash back to earlier in the episode -- handy for those of us who have very short-term memory problems. Michael stands around under 3rd and Racine and checks his watch anxiously.

We cut to Mahone, who appears to be having one of his patented pre-killing meltdowns (just ask Tweener or Haywire. Oh, wait... ). He rambles, "You can't say that I didn't give you a choice but you, you never pick the easy way. And I noticed that about you!" He puts the gun down for a moment and turns away to get his pen of Mahone's little helpers. Dr. Sara tries to keep her eye on him and the gun. Mahone continues, "I should have never expected it to be any different, but I have a job to do, which I'm being made to do." Fumble, fumble with the pills, and within moments, the mobile phone on the table is ringing. Both people look at it. Mahone orders Dr. Sara to pick it up. She doesn't, he goes to grab it and ends up scooping it off the floor, and she grabs the gun. Within seconds, Dr. Sara's stammering, "Don't move. Just, ah, don't move." Mahone seems to be okay with admiring the nap on the carpet. Dr. Sara asks for the phone, then grabs her bag and backs out of the room with, "Stay right where you are. Please?"

As Mahone stands up, he says, calmly and clearly, "You don't really want to do this." Dr. Sara finally pulls it together enough to snarl, "You don't know the first thing about what I want." She leaves. Mahone counts to ten, stands up, then reaches inside his pocket. We see A) a mobile, and B) a bullet, which tells us all we need to know: Dr. Sara is not dealing with some conspiracy stooge like Kim. She was dealing with someone who played her like a piano, and was counting on her bolting with the (empty) gun because how else can he get her to lead them to Scofield? Mahone confirms all this to Lang over the phone.

We go from a shot of Dr. Sara doing a furtive race-walk to Agent Kim doing his furtive race-walk. He ducks into a shiny black limo. My opinion of the One World Conspiracy is sinking with every second. First, Agent Kim can't even beat up Michael effectively, and that should be as easy as tiring out a kitten. Second, a big shiny limo is the exact opposite of "furtive" and "discreet," two qualities that would seem to be useful when you're trying to run the world without anyone noticing. Anyway, Kim slides inside and talks at the notepad-writing guy. Tall, bald and silent is indifferent to Kim's dithering. He'd rather flip through a file folder, and when Kim's all talked out over this, the guy hands over a folder reading "SONA." Okay then, Madame President's little assassination did not go undocumented.

We cut back to Michael, who is now looking like he's in a world of hurt. He's also shivering and freezing. The husband and I begin a lengthy discussion over exactly what time of year this is. Our conclusion: October. Hear us out -- according to the tombstone, Governor Dad died in June. And Chicago is quite hot during the summer months. Ergo, enough time has passed for it to be chilly again. So this means... Team Escarpara's been on the run for six months? My, how time flies -- or warps as it gets sucked through assorted wormholes -- on this show.

ANYWAY. The shivering Michael calls Dr. Sara on her mobile phone. He tells her, "It worked." "The pardon?" Dr. Sara asks. "She's announcing it any minute," Michael replies. He does not add, "So, what's a guy got to do to get picked up by you?" Oh, wait -- he does. We see Lang watching Dr. Sara. Michael tells them both his location (Highland, at a warehouse that runs down by the water). Dr. Sara starts driving, tailed by Lang. We should just start the pool now on when Dr. Sara will be recaptured as a martyr to the Free Scofield cause.

Cut to Linc in the warehouse. While fretting, he has passed the time by buffing his sternum to a sheen. There's a knock on the door; it's Michael. Linc takes in his wincing, cringing, bleeding brother, but decides not to, you know, offer an ice-pack or anything. Michael finally says, "We did it." Linc grins in disbelief. Michael begins laughing. Then Linc asks about Michael's face. Michael replies, "You wanna take the ride, you gotta buy the ticket." Yeah, he and Hunter S. Thompson, kindred spirits. Linc excitedly tells Michael, "Derek hooked us up with a cabin on one of those freighters. South America via the Great Lakes." Michael holds his beer and says, "We're not going to need that, but it is appreciated." Linc begs him, "One more time, bro?" Michael looks up and says, "One more time? It's done." Then he gets a funny look on his face. I've never seen anything like it before, it's... his eyes are twinkling and scrunched at the corners and his teeth are showing and his mouth us quirking up and -- could it be? Michael is sincerely smiling!

The boys toast, and Linc says fervently, "I wish I could have seen the look on her face." Michael averts his eyes and says softly, "No, you don't." I am torn on whether it's because Madame Evil was too cold and angry to behold, or whether Michael saw her bleak grief. Michael clicks on the TV so they can see their televised moment of validation.

We cut to Madame Evil pacing back and forth in the kitchen, her men flanking her. As she prepared to walk into the impromptu press room, Kim slithers into view and says, "You are not going to do this." Madame Evil says, "I have made my decision and I would appreciate you not second-guessing me." Kim hisses, "I don't think you understand! We know your secrets too. We can reveal them just as easily. You need to ask yourself who you fear more: Michael Scofield, or us." The angry resolve drains from Madame Evil's face; all that's left is despair.

Madame Evil walks out, a wide, confident grin on her face. She speaks: "Thank you for waiting so patiently all afternoon. If it were not for the support of this great state, my home state of Illinois, I would not be here today." We move from the vibrant-looking president to the watchful Kim in the back of the room, then to Michael, staring intently on the couch in Derek's office.

Madame Evil then assumes a grave face: "This is why I have chosen today to make this very important announcement. A situation has recently come to light, and I feel that I must take action." We cut to a shot of Kellerman watching, slumped on his bed, then to a shot of Dr. Sara listening as she drives: "It is my job as president of this country to make rational decisions when I am given facts. Decisions that are best not for me, but for the people." We cut to Kim, relaxing a little. Back to Madame President, looking bravely resolute. She continues, "And so, after much consideration, I regret to inform you that I have been diagnosed with a highly malignant form of cancer." We cut to a stricken-looking Michael. Ah, that's a facial expression with which we're all familiar. Madame Evil continues, "And because of that reason, I am no longer fit to serve as your commander in chief. In the best interests of this country, effective immediately, I am stepping down as president of the United States." We cut to Kim, who looks like he's trying to keep his head from exploding in a giant snit.

And with that, Madame Evil steps off the podium and out of the corridors of power. I suppose I should be thinking about the practical implications for Michael and Kellerman and Linc, but I am more concerned about the political succession here. I mean, didn't Madame Evil just take office? Has her vice president already been confirmed? Is Congress up to doing that again so soon, or is the speaker of the House in this universe all, "You know what, guys? You already know me. I'm a-hopping up a step in the presidential succession"? Also, why has Illinois not broken out into untrammeled mayhem, what with losing its governor and now the U.S. commander in chief? And since the Iraq war is going on in this universe... how's that going to go, what with three different commanders-in-chief in six months? Do you think maybe other countries are going to drop a bomb on the U.S. since we're so busy trying to figure out who's in charge?

And can you believe all this geopolitical mayhem can be traced back to the fact that Madame Evil was having an affair with her brother? Yes, breaking up with him would have made subsequent family holidays awkward, but isn't that preferable to throwing global politics into disarray?

ANYWAY. We then cut to Kellerman, who looks like he's on the verge of weeping. It's anyone's guess as to whether he's grieving the end of a dream he'd worked toward or whether he's sorry someone else got to take away Caroline's cookie before he could. We then switch to Michael, who looks like he's gone into a fugue state. I don't blame him -- he's had one hell of a roller-coaster day. Linc is the first to realize the tape is useless. Michael realizes, "She can't pardon anyone." Linc says, "We got nothing." Then he hurls his beer bottle. Sticky beer and broken glass? Is that any way to repay Derek? I think not. Michael looks at the TV and says, with a delivery that makes me hurt for the poor guy, "There's only one thing we can do. We gotta disappear. Forever."

Or in three episodes. Take your pick.