We cut to Don Self giving Michael a pep talk: "There's cops everywhere. It's like a cop anthill. Look, it's just a matter of time 'til they find you anyway." Michael's not having it, and orders Self to find out what's going on. He does so at the top of his lungs, which is apparently the kind of persuasion Don Self needs. So he goes over to a knot of policeman and passes himself off as "Don Self, Homeland Security agent," and -- employing that bluster we've all come to know and, well, know -- manages to browbeat the seasoned cop into telling him their game plan for nabbing the brothers. "We're going to gas them out floor by floor until we find them," the cop says. Don Self hastily improvises, "If you gas them, you're going to compromise visibility, and I can't have another diplomat getting shot in the fez." The cop replies, "We're using chloropropane. It's colorless, it's odorless. They won't even know what hit 'em." Don Self feigns approval, because it looks a little like panic.
Aaaaand Mahone has finally made it over to 4 Dunn Place. He is somewhat consternated to see Dr. Sara all taped to the breakfast bar, and rips off the duct tape on her face to ask if she's hurt. Mahone quickly cuts Dr. Sara loose and updates Dr. Sara on the new adventures of old Christina: "She has Scylla, she set up Linc and Michael ... they were framed for the murder of an Indian official. It's all over the news. That was Christina's plan." Dr. Sara's about to stalk off and go rescue her pookie, but Mahone blocks her exit. "I really need you to get out of my way," she says. "That's not going to happen. You don't care for me, I don't care for you much either, but I owe Michael. Run. He's in a sea of trouble right now," Mahone says. Dr. Sara insists that she won't abandon Michael, and Mahone tells her, "I'm not telling you to abandon him. There's nothing you could do for him. Listen, I'd run if I could run. But if I run, they go after my wife, so I have to jump back in. You don't." Ah, but she does, what with carrying the spawn of Scofield and all. But Dr. Sara doesn't mention this; she only insists that she's not running. Her idea of a compromise is staying in the apartment so Michael can come back for her.
And now we switch to Christina crying crocodile tears for the benefit of India's prime minister. After baldly lying about losing a son when he was just a child, she demurely confirms that the Chinese were behind the killing, thus leading the prime minister to say, "I'm not here to discuss how my son died, but how to avenge him. Your technology -- as you put it -- I've heard rumors of its varied applications." Christina feigns shock and horror: "Your son and I planned to use the technology for humanitarian endeavors. Warfare applications are not our goal." "But now they are mine, and at the end of the day, you are a businesswoman with a product and I am a buyer," the prime minister says. He wants to commit to the entire Scylla inventory, so that China might feel his wrath in a dozen different ways. Christina can barely suppress the pleased grin from the big sale she just made. She flutters about "the ramifications of what it is you're proposing," then delicately accedes to his wishes. Oh, she's good.
Back at the hotel, the gassing has commenced. Michael gets a call from Don Self who tells him about the gassing. Michael zones out as he looks at the maid's cart, then snaps to. He asks Linc to help him, but Linc has descended into the slough of despair, muttering about how he's beaten the odds so many times, he figures the universe has made the bill come due. "What kind of loser gets set up for two high-profile assassinations within five years?" he asks. Michael's all, "I don't have time to do the math because I need to keep us from getting gassed. So stop with the thinky-thinky and make with the smashy-smashy for me, okay?"