C-Note does move. To be more precise, he moves his fist into the guy's face. After a brief fracas, C-Note gains the upper hand. He twirls around -- stopping long enough to order his daughter, "Sweetie, stay right there!" -- then groans as he hears the police sirens approaching. We see the cars screech around the corner, then cut to the robber groaning on the floor as one of the diner patrons unlocks the door. The cops look at the battered man and demand to know, "Who did this?" The collected patrons are all silent until finally the big beefy guy who was pistol-whipped earlier steps forward to drawl, "I did." I bet you that guy's nickname in school was "Tiny." Meanwhile, Blonde Waitress is helping C-Note and Dede escape out the back.

Cut to Haywire breaking camp, muttering to himself as he does so. His uneasy meditation is broken by Bellick bellowing, "Haywire! Don't move!" Haywire's eyes bug out to a point that would have made Marty Feldman begin blinking uncomfortably, then he hollers for Barnabas to begin running. Barnabas does not run. Haywire does. I think we see now that Barnabas is a fickle, fickle friend.

Back on the train, the conductor's getting word that there are four jumpers -- three men and a woman. He picks up his radio and passes the word around. We all take a break.

And then, whoosh! We're back, thanks to the miracle of commercial-free digital tracks. We see people wearing clothing that is very similar to our gang's and they're all running with the cops in hot pursuit. But the minute the police pull out their guns, one of the runners begins shouting hysterically, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Everyone turns around, and we see that one of the runners is, in fact, the same poor guy who got schnookered by Kellerman into the whole "I'm-transporting-a-fugitive" scheme. We learn via flashback that he gave the jumper message under duress, then was shoved out of the train at gunpoint. He tells the cops, "They told us to jump and run and not look back, or they'd shoot us." We do not get to see the cops' faces as they calculate this monumental waste of taxpayer dollars. On a slightly related note: I would love it if someone in Mahone's office was tallying the cost of all the assorted police fake-outs and pursuits. I know I'm curious as to how many hundreds of thousands of dollars the pursuit of assorted Team Escarpara members has cost.