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.
Oh, Westmoreland. It hurts me to look at you. Of course, it doubtlessly hurts you to be you, but it's not like I'm particularly relishing this. C-Note has finally noticed that Westmoreland's bleeding too.
Meanwhile, on the outside...after the Middle-Aged White Guy Conspiracy gets through deciding on such weighty matters as whether or not the Bolivian government will nationalize its natural gas industry (yes), it will permit news to leak out concerning monkeys' love of happy hour (yes) and it'll sink the As as part of its grand plan to discredit SABRmetrics (apparently so, if their recent performance is any indication), talk turns to what to do about Caroline Reynolds. Or, as we know and love her, Madame Vice President. They decide she's not working out. Madame Vice President is shown deciding to have a drink or ten. The only question they want to know is whether they should let her live or die. They ask Brinker, and she tells them, "Becoming president is the most important thing to her. If we take that away, she has absolutely nothing to lose. I guarantee you, she will do everything she can to take everyone she can down with her." Well, it sounds like Madame Vice President shouldn't make any long-term plans.