Downstairs, Mahone's reading off a profile on Lisa Tabak -- she's a logistician for a nonprofit think tank when she's not the handmaiden to unspeakable evil -- and Linc snaps, "The only thing I want to know about this chick is her schedule -- what she's doing, where she's going --" "We may not have that kind of time," Sucre breaks in, before Linc can add, "What kind of underwear she wears." Sucre is the only one who noticed the suitcase. Good eyes, papi! There's some brainstorming about where Lisa's headed, and then Roland says, "If she's going anywhere, it's on a red eye... Lisa Tabak is being honored at this charity shindig downtown... she's the top donor at an organization called Eagles and Angels." Michael's plan to just crash the charity shindig suddenly got tougher, as Mahone says, "Eagles and Angels? When a police officer dies in the line of duty, he's an eagle. The ones he leaves behind are angels. That's a benefit for the Association of Law Enforcement. If you're going to get near her, it's going to be with about half the cops in L.A." We cut to Michael rolling his eyes and wondering, Can't anything be easy? Just this once?

We cut to Jasper calling Don Self. It's a tense conversation, as Don Self is wound a little tightly owing to the Bruce Bennett death, and Jasper's wound a little tightly owing to his phone lines probably being tapped by the One World Conspiracy. It turns out that Jasper does know where the card decoder is (please tell me it's named Odysseus). Don Self tells him to chill out, as he's coming to get him. Unfortunately, we cut to Agent Blots Out the Sun in a car, and it looks like he's about to beat Don Self to the door.

We cut to Linc, Sucre and Mahone breaking into a storage cage in Scylla HQ, liberating a giant speaker, and prying up two of the subwoofers or tweeters or whatever the hell those giant, dish-shaped things are. I have no idea; my knowledge of stereo systems begins and ends with the words "iPod" and "earbuds." The guys need the amplifier thingies. Next up: a list of the stuff they need, per Bellick. Sucre asks, alarmed, "You mean we gotta steal them?" "It's the one thing we can't get at a store, so yes, we've got to steal them," Michael replies. I am sure we are all on tenterhooks at the prospect of finding out what the mysterious "they" are. Or perhaps it's just another mucous geyser building up steam in my sinuses. I get the two confused. Before Michael heads off to steal whatever it is he's stealing, he checks on Dr. Sara. She's calmer, but that's no real indication of anything.