In the pipes, Bellick contemptuously asking, "Brains of the outfit, huh, Scofield?" Well, yes. How is that simple observation an insult? And why has nobody thought to gag Bellick again? Bellick, more loudly, "He's leading you off a cliff, boys," and C-Note dismissively says, "You acting like you still in charge? Shut your mouth, bitch." T-Bag leaps over in a very Gollum-esque move, and seizes Bellick's skull in his hands. He is aching to be allowed to do him some harm. Sucre wanders by, taking the time to call Bellick a pendejo. Again, it kills me that they allow the Spanish cussing. Manche passes by T-Bag without comment. Then Tweener comes by, and Bellick's face curdles with derision. He says, "You...you know what he's --" We'll never know, because Tweener's punch to the jaw interrupts him. Tweener is finally the one to put the gag back on. Abruzzi comes by to bid him, "Ciao, bello." Then T-Bag makes another sideways Gollum leap to Bellick's front. He forces the guard to look at his grinning face, and then leaves, satisfied that Bellick knows he only lives because T-Bag couldn't be bothered. After Michael takes off, we see Bellick staring, plotting intently.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Veronica is begging Nick not to do this. Nick steadfastly says, "Tell Michael to give Abruzzi what he wants," and Veronica sobs in return, "Please, Nick, come on. They're going to kill me." To shut her up -- and reap the benefits of not having to actually have any reminders of his own weaselly betrayal -- Nick sticks a pillowcase over her head. Yeah, that will never attract any attention from fellow motorists. Who among us hasn't idled at a stoplight, looked over, and seen a nervous-looking man chauffeuring someone with a pillowcase over their head?
Team Escarpara puts on their coveralls while Michael -- who is now wearing Bellick's jacket -- disappears to do an errand. C-Note would like to know where Michael's headed, but he's no more likely to get an actual, illuminating answer to that than he is to be able to fool his wife into thinking he's just stepped off the plane from Iraq. Everyone dresses sullenly. Michael, meanwhile, has blown white powder -- foot powder, aspirin all crushed up, baby powder, whatever -- onto a keypad and is using it to determine the stickiest keys. These are presumably the ones that are used in the security code, and so Michael spends a few minutes figuring out what the code is. He enters a boatload of combinations since -- unlike, say, my cell-phone provider who only gives you three attempts to log into their site before booting you out for security reasons -- this SECURITY SYSTEM in a PRISON has absolutely no failsafes whatsoever.