Down below, the would-be escapees are still blissfully ignorant of the coup. All they know is that Sammy and a couple of his closest friends have descended the staircase and are looking for the booze. On the other side of the door, Michael, Mahone and Whistler freeze. Fortunately, the bottles are clinking too loudly for Sammy et al to hear the diggers.
Sammy then swaggers out onto the balcony, silences the chattering inmates with a piercing whistle, then shouts, "I am running things now! Anyone got a problem with that?" We cut to Lechero, who is only now realizing that he's not going to have one of those cushy, Jean-Claude Duvalier-style retirements. Sammy continues by dangling the chicken foot and shouting that anyone is welcome to fight him. We cut to a bunch of weary-looking inmates all, No, thank you. Sammy then gestures to the case of rum one of his flunkies is holding and shouts, "First order of business: a case of rum to the man who brings me Michael Scofield!" The crowd goes wild at this. So wild, in fact, that Michael can hear them down below. It's not clear whether he hears the death threat too, but knowing Michael, it's reasonable to assume that particular scenario's on his top-five list of Things That Can Possibly Mess Up THIS Escape Attempt.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Lincoln is attempting to use a computer. So great is the mental effort, there's blood running from his ears. (I am not kidding: at the 8:07 mark on my digital recording, his ear and neck are looking distinctly bloody.) We soon learn that Linc is using any one of a vast number of non-Google search engines to get the 411 on "Gary Miller." Linc then enters Gary's purported birthday (7/31/72, for those of you who dig Leos) and finds three hits, one of whom is based in Arizona. Sucre comes charging in: he's hooking Linc up with a guy who deals with the kinds of goods you don't want to be seen buying in broad daylight. The guys quickly exposit that Sucre will go meet with Susan B., so Sofia will translate the transaction for Linc. And then there is a very sweet thank-you, where Linc vows, "I got your back. When you get home, whatever you need, whatever you want...." Sucre grins, "That won't be necessary. When I get back home, I'm a saint. I'm not even jaywalking." Will that be because you can barely move under the many layers of disguise you'll have to wear to avoid being recognized as a FUGITIVE? Or has that little breaking-out-of-prison thing been swept under the rug?