Meanwhile, back at Science Prison, the guards are going crazy, running through the halls and whatnot, even though no one is yelling schnell!. An officer tells the prison warden (in German, thankfully, and not plain ol' English) that the facility is locked down and all the protocol was followed, so they don't know what happened, other than the prisoner being gone, leaving a scorched corner of the room and a dead body behind.
Two weeks later at Harvard, Olivia wanders into the Fringe lab, where Walter and Peter are already hanging out, like maybe they LIVE there now, and Peter's bringing breakfast to his dad, who is busy washing the underside of that cow Gene that is sometimes there and sometimes not.
In kind of a clunky expository scene, Olivia explains that the German authorities came to see her last night, because Jones escaped, and they don't know how; it doesn't make any sense. "How come when nobody knows and it doesn't make sense, they come to us?" asks Peter. Because if they knew what happened and it made sense there would be no need for an explanation. That's why.
Anyhoo, Jones had been working with Loeb. "I remember Loeb. That's the guy that stole my invention," gripes Walter. That's how he remembers Loeb, and not because he was recently arrested after walking through bank walls and kidnapping Olivia and ordering his wife to kill Olivia. She says she's going to talk to Loeb right now. "But can you describe again to me what you made?" says Olivia, who A) I don't believe would forget about a TELEPORTATION DEVICE, and B) we've been informed has a brilliant memory anyway. Peter tells Walter not to "sugarcoat" it this time, and Olivia asks if it's something that could have helped Jones escape. What, a transportation device? How would that be any help? Walter called it "Disrei," combining "disintegration" and "reintegration." Peter explains it was a teleportation device meant to travel through time.
Whoever used the device would have considerable problems, notes Walter: "Coming through, arriving, would require weeks of decompression in a barometric tank. And based on what would happen next, you'd likely wish you hadn't." Instead of asking him what he MEANS by that, Olivia dumbs it all the way down to "moron" and asks if it's theoretically possible for Jones to have "zapped" himself right out of prison. Walter hems and haws for a moment or two before finally saying yes.
Wonder what a barometric tank looks like? Well, I'm presuming this is one, here in one of those popular "deserted warehouse" hideouts, with a couple of shifty looking guys hanging around. Someone says that equilibrium has been reached and the decompression is complete. The side door of the tank is opened up, and Jones hauls himself out, clad in a T-shirt. Someone says, "Welcome back, sir," and drapes a blanket over his shoulders. Jones, shaking slightly, asks for a cup of tea.
Jones sits, holding his tea, and thanks the people there for their work in bringing him here. There is a slight amount of steam visible from his mouth as he talks. "I understand there have been ... sacrifices. I am grateful to them, as I am to you." He asks if everything is in place, and some dude (also with visible breath-steam -- must be cold in there) says it is. "The list is complete. We've got a lab set to your specifications." "And the ceiling?" asks Jones. "All parts," says the assistant. That's good. What's not so good, for Jones, is the fact that his hand is visibly shaking as it grips the teacup. Nice that the warehouse has a fully stocked tea set with cups and saucers, because you never know just who's going to get out of a hyperbaric chamber.
Out on the street, a magazine dealer hawks his wares while chasing away people who are under the impression that the magazine stand is a library. A guy who we only see from the back strolls up and puts some paper money down on a stack. He's wearing a latex glove. The magazine stand owner does his best to deter the purchase -- by touting the virtues of online newspapers versus tree-chopped-down versions -- but buddy leaves his two-dollar bill and moves on before he can collect his change. So the owner pockets the change and then starts chatting it up with a woman thanking him (Tommie) for his movie recommendation of something starring Grace Kelly and Jimmy Stewart, and he brags that he's creating cinephiles "one reader at a time," and recommends Charade to her. Then he starts wiping his eyes, which have gotten a little gummy for some reason. He looks in the mirror, and sees more gobby clumps forming around his eyes, sealing them off. By the time he turns to look at his customer, his eyes look like patches of depressed skin. She screams, and he starts to stumble around (brushing past the Observer), and now it looks like skin is growing over his nostrils and mouth as well. He knocks over a magazine carousel and falls to the sidewalk, unable to breathe.
After the commercial break, the FBI is hard at work trying to solve the disappearance of an English prisoner from a German prison? Am I missing something? Charlie tells Broyles that they found out that Salman Kohl kept a slush fund under an assumed name. Broyles suggests it's for a mistress, and Charlie wonders if it might be something less salacious and more interesting. "Let me know if you find something useful," says Broyles.
Olivia stands in some kind of military warehouse parking garage that appears to have lines for a basketball court? Huh? Anyway, a truck pulls up and the military police take the hood off the prisoner they've got in back. Probably worried about Mitchell Loeb's x-ray vision, which is only thwarted by the blanket they've got over his head. The MPs help him down from the back of the truck.
They stand face to face, and Olivia says she thinks he knows where Jones is, since Mitchell helped him escape the night she was kidnapped. "You're not someone I really wanna work with," says Mitchell. If that hurts Olivia's feelings, she doesn't show it. But she does have a transfer order for him to Wallinsridge State Prison. "You know what that place is like, Mitchell?" she asks him. See, this isn't one of the deals where if you co-operate you get to go to a cushy Club Fed. This is one of those deals where if you don't co-operate, you get sent to Rapeshank. But Loeb's still not biting. He says it doesn't matter if she finds Jones or not: "He's just a part of the army. What is written will come to pass. And nothing you do can stop it. Nothing."
Olivia seems a little surprised that he withstood her implied threats of sending him to Oz, but she does her best to glare at him while she answers her cellphone. It's Broyles, telling her to get the Bishops and meet him at Boston General Hospital.
That's where Broyles introduces them to the late Thomas Avery, who owned a news stand, and is now lying on a slab, with thick goopy skin covering up his mouth, nose and eyes. "Ceramides. They act as a signalling molecule in skin. They control how the cells grow and differentiate." He's got two theories: one is a mutation that caused these lipids to seal off all orifices. He asks if they checked his anus and penis, which is cue for Peter to act like a twelve-year-old again. As usual, Walter's got to be prompted to remember the other thing he was going to say, which is: coffee cake. He loves him some coffee cake!
Olivia tells Broyles that this is of course Jones' work, which Broyles doubts, because wh