Lisa is trying to infect Dr. Sara with a quick and convenient case of compassion. Her vector of transmission: giant moist eyes and talk-show-delivery of lines like "I can't imagine what you've been through." Dr. Sara, however, has had a comprehensive set of vaccinations against mendacity and continues with binding Lisa's hands and keeping the gun trained on her. Lisa tries, "You used to be a doctor. You devoted your whole life to helping people. Now look at you: they have you holding your gun on an innocent woman." Dr. Sara dryly asks, "You're just crunching numbers and running data to make the world a better place?" Lisa's all "I ... have no reply to that." She is then forced to lie to her security detail about why she's tarrying in the bathroom, calling out, "I'm soaking my skirt. If I don't get the grease out before it gets to the cleaners, it'll be ruined." The guard looks at the restroom door with a look of baffled terror -- clearly, both expensive clothing and dry cleaning frighten and confuse him -- and backs away slowly. Dr. Sara keeps her gun nestled beneath Lisa's chin and says, "I don't know what it looks like up in your ivory tower. But down on the ground, men and women are dying and lives are being ruined. So I'm prepared to do absolutely anything in order to stop you people." She then orders Lisa to turn around. The teary woman prepares for her death ...

Zip! We're over at the parking garage beneath GATE headquarters and T-Bag is letting loose with the recriminations. It is sort of touching, in a pity-the-human-condition kind of way, that he is so upset over the "Cole Pfeiffer" ruse being blown. I applaud the writers for giving T-Bag the plausible new motivation of a yearning for legitimacy; yanking away his shot to enter polite society was a brilliant move. Anyway, Gretchen's never enjoyed being second-guessed by anyone, and she expresses her pique by pulling a gun on him. T-Bag sighs and says, "You can't be serious." Gretchen says, "They can identify you, Cole. You're the only one linking me to that crime scene. But hey -- it was nice working with you." So ... is now the wrong time to bring up how I love the way Gretchen's bright red nails and bright red lipstick go together? I'm telling you, if she ever decides to ditch the semi-competent mercenary line of work, she'd make an excellent Hollywood stylist. I tremble in rapture imagining what ruthless terrors she'd inflict on sundry starlets. ANYWAY -- before Gretchen can pull the trigger, Trisha comes speeding around the corner in a giant sedan. Gretchen makes the tactical error of shooting at the car first instead of shooting T-Bag first and then going for the car. And this is how T-Bag ends up running straight into the sheltering arms of the feds and Gretchen ends up on the run, without Scylla. Trisha cuffs him none too gently and introduces herself as "Special Agent Miriam Holtz." Eh, she'll always be dishy Trisha to me.