Las primeras 200 líneas.
They ran the projection you asked for, General.
(phone buzzing)
You're clear. Go ahead.
There's been a complication.
Burrows and Scofield have been transferred to...
I read the newspapers.
You don't have to tell me what's in the headlines.
The exact penitentiary
where they're being held is undisclosed.
But you can guarantee it'll be federal.
Supermax.
No more updates.
Call me when they're dead.
SELF: Welcome to Los Angeles.
As it turns out, men who have escaped not one,
but two penitentiaries,
are considered a bit of a flight risk.
So we need to know where you are
and what you're doing at all times.
These are GPS ankle monitors.
Now, step up, take one and put it on.
I ain't wearing that.
Let's make this clear:
I'm your ally,
but more importantly, I'm your boss.
Which means if this fails--
it's my ass on the line as much, if not more,
than yours, so from this point on,
if I ask you to do something, you do it.
If I ask you to say something,
you say it.
And if I ask you to put on a monitor--
you put on a monitor.
SELF: As far as the general public is concerned,
you're being contained in a supermax facility somewhere
in the United States.
So to avoid any messy explanations
and stay off the Company's radar--
you need to keep
your heads down and your ears open.
We've provided cell phones, clothing, and toiletries--
all the basic necessities to get you up and running.
Hey, uh,
you-you patted these guys down
before you let them in, right?
'Cause I can't be getting shanked or shivved...
Who's this?
This is Roland Glenn.
He'll be assisting you.
We've already got our team.
No, Scofield, see, this is my team,
And Roland's working off
a sentence just like the rest of you.
In fact, with the amount of security
that's gonna be around Scylla,
Roland's expertise will be a necessity.
So, if no more questions,
let's get to work on finding Scylla.
What about that second step?
What about the break-in? You let me
worry about step two, okay?
You just worry about finding Scylla.
I've got an idea where to start.
That's excellent, Alexander.
See, there's a man who's thinking.
All right, let's let these men
get to work.
Good luck.
To all of us.
Yeah, since I was here first, I think I'll
just go ahead and grab that S.S. bedroom,
if that's cool.
Sara... Yeah?
...you take the bunk.
You know, when this is, when this is all done--
you and me, we're gonna settle up.
All right, obviously,
there's a lot of history in this room.
That's a given.
But it we're gonna pull this off,
it's gonna take all of us.
We got to work together.
So if anyone has a problem, get it out now.
You want to clear the air with someone...
now's the time.
All right.
Let's get to work.
Whistler's assignment was to drop off
this, this, this data card--
this Scylla to a Company executive,
someone he referred to as "the cardholder."
And his job was to-to protect it.
To... keep it safe.
Now, I didn't
see who he was, but I got a look at his driver.
His driver?
You want to sketch this guy's face
and match it up to 10 million people in Los Angeles?
Well, that's just great.
I saw more than just the guy's face.
All the drivers were hanging around, talking shop,
but this guy, he was standing by himself,
legs apart, hands behind his back,
at rest-- he's former military.
His car
rides a little lower than the rest of 'em.
Probably signifies private security.
Weighed down by bulletproof siding.
His suit, his suit--
you don't buy a suit like that
on a cop's salary or pulling
weekend gigs as a driver.
That means he's full-time.
He's highly paid.
You ask our friend
Mr. Self to run tax records
on the 45- to 55-year-old white males
in Los Angeles drawing a military pension,
and taking six figures from a private security company,
and you narrow your field from 10 million to about 50.
And then I can pick the guy out from there.
Find the driver, you find the cardholder.
We haven't ate or drank anything for days.
Oh, I don't want
to die out here. We ain't gonna die, Sancho.
Hey. (gasps)
Hey, hey, we ain't gonna die.
Okay. We just gotta find
what's called a compass cactus.
Due to the fact it always leans toward the south.
Inside there's delicious fruit which'll fill our bellies.
Plus, we find out which way is south,
we're gonna find out which way is north.
Comprende?
(groans)
Tell you what.
Why don't we, uh, rest here for a while, huh?
Travel at night when it's cooler.
That sounds good.
What are we gonna do when we get there?
To San Diego.
You mean after Michael pays
for the vile he's transgressed upon me?
I'm still trying to figure that out.
(grunts)
(groans)
Oh!
Nice to work with Homeland.
The FBI would take days to gather this intel.
Well, the FBI should'a hired me
'cause I could've gotten whatever info you wanted
in 25 minutes tops.
You some kind of hacker?
I design silicon lithography for personal gain.
He's an identity thief.
He's a douche.
Hey, why don't you sit in the corner
and we'll get you when we need you.
This is him.
That's the driver.
SUCRE: Now what?
Well, he takes us to the cardholder,
and the cardholder takes us to Scylla.
You could have left me there, in jail.
Could have or should have?
Maybe both.
Are you thanking me, Alex? I don't know.
Don't bother. You're here because we needed you.
Not because we wanted you. That's him.
That's the guy.
MICHAEL: Whoa, whoa.
What's that? Looks like private security.
MICHAEL: This thing is a fortress.
MICHAEL: Slow down. Slow down.
LINCOLN: This thing we gotta get,
it's in there?
MICHAEL: We got motion sensors, alarm systems,
armed guards.
In and out of that place
without anybody knowing.
You better have one hell of a plan, Michael.
So, basically, there's no freaking way to break in
to the place. Not quickly.
Not without being seen.
What about the neighbors, uh, somewhere we can be staged from,
you know, go under and up?
Closest neighbor is here, across the street.
And even that would take weeks.
The government's story about us being held
in a supermax will only last so long.
What does that mean? I mean,
then what if somebody finds out we're not.
What if we don't have to be in the house?
If the card--
this Scylla-- is so important
maybe the guy is carrying it on him.
Well, according to public records, the owner
of the estate's name is Stuart Tuxhorn,
and he's a CEO of a company called Spectroleum.
Heavy hitter like that's gonna have security 24-7.
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