Mahone straightened the cuffs of his suit jacket while staring at his hardened reflection in the mirror. He quickly grabs a pen on his way out the door as camera's begin to flash in quick succession. He takes his place behind the podium and begins his address.
"I'd like to talk about John Wilkes Booth for a moment," a strange silence takes hold of the eager and anxious reporters and cameras."Abraham Lincoln's killer. Twelve days. That's how long it took to find him. He was a shrewd guy; he knew the land, how to use it to disappear. In his journal, during this period, he wrote that the shadow was his friend, the night his domain. He acknowledged that whatever neurosis drove the criminal to commit the original crime is compounded, magnified, by flight. By the sounds of dogs at his heels. Fear becomes paranoia, paranoia ultimately psychosis. I bring this up because in 140 years the fundamental mind of the escaped man has not changed. The escaped man is still human. He is still afraid. And he will stop at nothing in his attempt at flight. Fortunately for us, while our quarry has shadow and night as his ally, we have something far greater. Far more powerful than law enforcement had in those days. Television. I would encourage everybody who is watching- everyone in this country to take a look at these faces. These men are now the most wanted men in America. Thank you."
Hale followed Mahone closely as they left the press conference and approached Warden Pope.
"Isn't it a little early for the FBI to be getting involved?" Warden Pope was an older man with a gruff voice and even gruffer exterior. He was the sort of man whose bark was often worse than his bite but under the recent circumstances his bite had become vicious.
"It's still your investigation, Warden" Hale reassured him. The older man seemed to be put off by the young woman but retained his steely gaze and bitter cheek.
"Until the cons cross state lines, at which point the matter becomes Federal but we are hoping to cut through all of that red-tape so we can end this thing as quickly as possible." Mahone added, holding the man's intimidating stare.
Pope gave an exasperated sigh and curt nod.
"About Doctor Tancredi-" Pope cut him off, "There's nothing to tell."
"From what we're hearing, she may have opened the door that let them get out." Hale pushed.
Pope gave her a cold stare, "I don't discuss my staff."
"Maybe you should." Hale told him gently. Her heart went out to Pope; he trusted the people on his staff, he cared about them. Unfortunately, those people made mistakes and bad decisions and those are things you cannot afford when running a prison.
"She may be the key to this thing. We'll need to speak with her." Mahone nudged him one last time.
The old man gave another sigh, "right now, Mr. Mahone, she isn't going to be speaking to anyone."
Hale felt the familiar buzz of her cell phone as she and Mahone were being driven towards the train tracks were a locomotive was stopped for possible stowaways.
"Huh, he's not the type I'd expect to get this much ink" Hale said, looking over the prison photos cataloging Scofields tattoos.
Mahone seemed to have taken an interest in it as well. "How long do you think it would take to get something like that?"
"Over a hundred hours" Hale told him.
Mahone looked at her, "which means the tattoo artist spent a whole lot of time with him."
Before Mahone could speak she held up her hand and finished for him, "I will find out who the artist is. You know, Mahone, I'm starting to think you just like to hear yourself speak"
Mahone gave a small chuckle, "Thank you, Katerina"
Hale smiled and nodded before making a few calls on her cell.
Mahone and Hale sat down and talked to Sid, Scofields tattoo artist.
"Wait a second; you're saying he designed the entire tattoo?" Mahone asked.
Sid gave a laugh, "Yeah, but I always got the feeling the entire thing was some sort of inside joke that only he was in on."
Katerina made a grab for one of the photos before Sid left. Bells and whistles began to go off in her head as she stared at the photo.
"Mahone!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" he asked, knowing she was on to something.
"What was the name of the road we took to get to the prison?"
"And in front of the prison, the two streets that intersect?"
"Fits and Percy."
Katerina handed Mahone the photo. Mahone scanned it for a brief second before realizing the conclusion.
Michael Scofields old apartment was empty, but Mahone walked around studying every inch of the place. He ran his hands up and down the wall, feeling the hundreds of holes made by thumb tacs. The pressure had started to get to him. Scofield was smart. This wasn't going to be a fishing trip.
"Mother's dead. Father's a deadbeat. He had nothing in the world but his brother." Katerina told the other agents as they arrived.
"So you plan. And you scheme for months till you get it right. Every single element. And then you destroy all the evidence," Mahone said as he turned and walked over to the window that overlooked the murky waters of the Chicago River below. "I want divers down in the river."
Katerina returned to Mahone's office with the file she had asked one of the other agents for. Michael Scofield truly had thought of everything, she mused. Which meant catching him was going to be a lot harder than they had previously thought.
"Schweitzer was the maker of the toilet Scofield moved in his cell; Allen bolt was the fitting." She said, handing him the file and more close ups of the tattoo.
"It's all here isn't it," Mahone said, clearly impressed with the con. "Is there a place in the vicinity that goes by Ripe Chance Woods?"
"No, I've already looked into it but the D.O.C.'s moving in on a storage facility in Oswego." Katerina told him as they headed out.
The storage facility turned out to be a bust and Katerina and Mahone sat in the black SUV trying to figure out Ripe Chance Woods.
"Katerina" Mahone turned around to face her, "Check the census records as far back as they go"
Katerina did as she was instructed and handed him her PDA, he found what he wanted, "We gotta go to the cemetery" he tells the driver.
As they pull up to the cemetery Mahone is agitated and tells Katerina to stay in the car. He walks to the grave marked R.I.P. E. Chance Woods. The ground was disturbed, and he knows they had been there. Even more agitated and feeling anxious, he popped the top off his pen and produces a small white pill which he swallows immediately before pulling his gun and scanning the area once more. He had just missed them which meant that they couldn't have gotten far.