We then cut to Dr. Sara trying to distract the security guard at the server farm with a story about how she's one Stephanie Reed, would-be interviewee. After an exchange in which we've established that Dr. Sara is an excellent liar, we head outside where Roland is telling Michael, "She should drop a few buttons on that shirt. The guard will give her the e-mails." Michael does not bother to remind Roland that he, not Roland, is privy to whatever delights lurk under the buttons of Dr. Sara's shirt. Instead, he patiently endures Don Self's livid inquiry, "You're in Anaheim, Michael? This is a strange time to be taking a trip to Disney! I promise you, if you're trying to run --" "We're trying to get you another card," Michael coolly interrupts. "From where? Tomorrowland?" Don Self asks. Honestly, I'd be more likely to hide on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Michael gives Don Self a brief 411 on what they're doing and clicks off before Don Self's head actually explodes from stress.
Michael has good timing: the director guy has just come back in after chatting with his BFF the Senator, and it turns out that Team Scylla's being disbanded.
Meanwhile, Dr. Sara continues to tarry at the front desk. She makes a really convincing single-mom-job-candidate, and as she's getting the security guard to call human resources, the guy leaves his badge on the desk. With one smooth move, she grabs it and passes it on the sly to Michael and Roland as they saunter into to building. The two left-brain ninjas head back to the server room, with Michael coolly telling the we're-gonna-get-lost Roland, "Network and wiring specifications require a server room on the first floor, centrally located -- like right there." He shoves Roland at the server room, and the other guy's weak comeback is, "Don't you want to engineer something?"
Both men enter the server room, and Michael picks that moment to confirm that Roland will be able to extract the e-mails. Roland nervously confirms he can, but boy, is he out of his element: "Listen, man, when I steal, I do it from home, in my boxers, eating a bowl of Crispity-Crunch. No chance of being seen, no chance of being caught." Michael has no time for Roland's script kiddie act; he just rolls his eyes mightily.
Mahone and Linc have been hanging in the server farm's parking lot, but when Mahone's phone rings, he steps out of the car to take the call. "Hey, lady! Did you get what I need?" he asks Lang. She did. He thanks her and Lang says, "I know what you're planning, Alex. But listen to me: if you do track him down, call me. Don't do something that could get you hurt." Mahone reassures her he won't, and Lang confirms that the material he asked for will be in its drop location by 5 p.m. She adds, "I'm so sorry." A dozen different emotions run fleetingly across Mahone's face and he finally smiles a little before saying, "Goodbye, Lang." Oh, I hope it's not goodbye, Lang. I love her! And I want to see her kicking ass and taking names with Team Scylla.