Discalimer: I don't own Prison Break.
I rush into office around ten in the morning after a sleepless night. I go to sit in my office chair when it is pulled out from under me. I look up from the ground to see Alex holding two duffle bag. "Do you got a body in there?"
"We have a flight to catch - I'll explain on our way." He says as we rush out the door.
After a long flight and Mahones constant explanation of what's going on we finally arrive at our destination. Over the flight I had been informed that Scofeild and Burrows are not dead and that the rat of the group had given us our first caller. We walk onto the air strip that is filled with agents and black SUVs. Mahone and I are rushed in one of the vehicles and it quickly takes off down the road.
"How long to the motel?" I question as I pull a bullet proof vest over my white dress shirt.
"Approximately ten minutes, mam," The driver replies.
"Let's make it five."
The SUV comes to a screeching stop in front of Globe Motel and we all jump out and get into position. I lay my upper body over the hood of the SUV and extend my arms, my gun loaded in my hands; ready to shoot. I look around to make sure everyone is ready to go before I begin to real in the fish. "If you're looking for the rat, John, Fibonacci's 2000 miles from here."
"Who are you? Local cops or feds?" John Abruzzi yells from inside.
"Feds, John. Only roll out the best for a man of your stature," I give a slight pause, there is no return so I continue. "You are going back to Fox River today, or the morgue. That's your call."
"I'm coming out!" I shouts after a few moments of silence. The door slowly opens and John walks into the center of the half circle his hands as his side.
"He's got a weapon! Right hand!" Mahone states loudly. "These are serious men here. They have instructions to shoot at the first sign of aggression. Please, I'm asking you respectfully. Drop the weapon, kneel, and put your hands on your head."
I share a gaze with John for short seconds and I know it is going to end. As Abruzzi raises his gun I slide down to the ground and pull my hands over my head to shield it from flying glass. "No!" The agents begin to fire in defence. With a thud I know Abruzzi has been brought down and I will have to deliver the news to his family.
I walk out of the interrogation room of the burro straight faced but hurting on the inside. Watching the wife of Mister Abruzzi break down in tears along with her children is not enjoyable. I join the group of agents gathered around the board contain all of the info on the Fox River Eight. The squeak of the red marker fills the air as Alex drags it over Abruzzis mug shot creating an 'X'; one down seven to go.
Everyone begins to leave the office for the night but I head back into the office. The light is turned off but is turned back on when Alex realises I am still in the room. He gives off a slight wave before heading out the door and I retire to the couch in my office.
Morning comes quickly and it is back to work I go. There is a knock on my office door and and Agent hollers in "I've got some results from his hard drive. The one recovered from the river. We were able to use the sector editor to restore the master boot. So from that…"
"I don't care how you did it. What do you have?"
"More than half the contents of the buffer. About 60 percent," He states and I smile grows on my face. "It looks pretty random."
"Print it up. All of it. I want it on my desk."
Pile after pile packages of paper are brought to my desk to be examined. I pick up one of the papers and read D.B. Cooper. Mahone finally decides to join me but doesn't seem up to par. "You okay?" He doesn't reply. I watch as he begins to fiddle with the pins on the board and begins to sweat heavily. The agent brings in another pile of papers and I gesture him to set them down on the desk. I approach Mahone and place my hand on his forehead. It's just sweaty. He looks at me in a panic and I get him to sit down. His cell phone rings and he rushes to answer it. In the matter of seconds he is done on the phone and rushing out of the office. Very suspicious, so suspicious I shall fallow him.
I quietly sneak down the stair case two floors behind him and he shakily rushes down them. I fallow him outside where I hide myself behind a large square pillar supporting the building. I peer around it to see Mahone talking with what seems to be a drug dealer! They exchange words and the mysterious possible drug dealer hands Alex a pill bottle. He pops one of the pills before making his way back towards the building.
I quickly run back to my office pretend I have been reading over the papers piled high on my desk. He returns back in the office and begins to flip through the pages, like nothing was wrong with him. Agent Lang enters our office with updates on members of the eight. "We just got confirmation on Fernando Sucre. He was in Las Vegas around two. Then a gas station attendant spotted a guy on a bike matching his description in Mesquite...an hour later. With Franklin's in Preston, Idaho. Bagwell's in Nebraska. Both men have never been across the Mississippi. Visiting friends and family? I don't think so. And not south of the border. They're due west and we need to know why."
My mind rushes with multiple thoughts and I rush over to the board. I stick pins in it match the last known whereabouts of the three and connect the routes with sting. "You know D.B. Cooper? The hijacker?"
"But he was never found." Lang points out.
"Yeah, but he's gotta be somewhere, right? Because someone hijacked that plane in Portland, and jumped out over the Pacific Northwest and someone was arrested two days later in Bisbee, Arizona." Alex states.
"Not the same guy." Lang says.
"Same guy. Same guy who was treated for a broken knee at a free clinic somewhere around Salt Lake City. Same guy whose Nova blew a head gasket 10 miles short of the border. Same guy who almost got away with a stolen car, but he ran a woman down in Bisbee. Vehicular manslaughter. Arrested and booked as Charles Westmoreland. But he didn't have the money on him. Which means he got rid of it somewhere along the way."
"Wait, wait. This is fact? You figured all this out?" Lang questions quickly.
"No, Scofield did. That's why he was bringing the old man along. The money's in Utah. And they're all going to get it."
At home I pack up a duffle bag of suits, shoes, and other clothing I my need while on this trip to Utah. My cell phone rings and I put it on speaker. "Agent Johnson, your car's out front, sir. The flight to Utah leaves in an hour." "I'll be there. Thank you."