Chapter 55:
5 days passed.
Mahone just kept us holed up in that tiny room downstairs and I was the only witness to what some may describe as a mental breakdown. He would just stare intently at all of the pictures and the notes mumbling to himself trying to crack the code of where Michael could have disappeared to.
I tried to be helpful offering suggestions here or there, but it usually ended with some sort of insult and the two of us arguing. At this point I was nearly ready to march myself upstairs and beg them to arrest me just so I didn't have to deal with him anymore.
Currently, I was sitting cross legged on one of the spare desks eating a doughnut with yellow icing on top. I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten a doughnut and was thoroughly enjoying myself.
None of the other agents bothered us, probably trying to avoid the wrath of Mahone while he was in this state. I was grateful for it because it reduced the probability that I was going to spill the beans on everything. While true I agreed to work with Mahone, I by no means trusted a word that came out of his mouth. But I could be handcuffed or in a prison cell right now if I hadn't chosen what I chose.
I was busy sucking icing off of my thumb when Mahone finally ceased his ramblings and turned to face me with a sidelong glance.
"What?" I mumbled with a mouthful of doughnut.
"I don't know. You tell me. Are you going to offer any useful pieces of information today?" He turned his back to pictures of Michael's tattoos, meaning he did not see the spiteful glare in his direction.
"I've already told you everything I know. I was with Bagwell for so long that I missed out on Michael's long-term plans. I can't give you a precise location because I don't know one."
"Then what do you know, Laney? Because it seems to me that they only thing you can do is eat and be a pain in my ass."
Mahone's response only made me smirk that I could get under his skin just a little. And although a little disturbing, it was also quite satisfying to witness his near mental breakdown over this. Unfortunately for me, I only had this position because of Mahone so if he was out of commission I couldn't be sure what my fate would be.
"If President Reynolds was working with the Company, why would she resign?" I asked trying to change the subject.
The official story was that she had a terminal illness that made her unfit to serve the position of president, but who knew if that was the truth?
"You don't resign," he muttered, "if you stop being useful to them, they make sure you can't be useful to anyone else either."
"So you're saying she's going to be killed?"
He didn't respond.
"You said back at the hotel that the Company was only after Michael and Lincoln and that the rest of us were just collateral. Was what happened to C-note part of that collateral?"
Still no response.
"There is absolutely no way that C-note would try to kill himself by choice and leave his family." I kept talking even though my frustration was growing.
"You'd be surprised what someone is capable of if they believe they are protecting their family."
I threw my hands in the air and turned my back to Mahone. He was impossible to work with and impossible to talk to when he spoke in cryptic riddles. He was probably just wanting me to stay quiet so he could think, but I so flustered that I couldn't stop talking.
"In most cases, with partnerships there is some level of equality. A give and take of sorts, but you're so busy being an alpha that you can't…." I stopped talking when I saw his head snap up.
I was sure that he had finally snapped when he started ripping the pictures of the tattoos from the wall and looking at them closely. He had looked at those pictures probably one hundred times, what detail did he think he was missing?
Mahone suddenly turned and marched in my direction and instinctively I took a few steps back. He held up a picture of one of the tattoos right in front of my face.
"What do you notice right there?" He stated frantically pointing to the corner of the picture.
I squinted my eyes even though I could see the corner just fine and noticed a small shape.
"A triangle?"
Mahone nodded his head and pulled out another picture, "and this one?"
"Pi? Like from math class?"
"3.14, could be a date?" Mahone was muttering I think more to himself and continued pacing around the room.
"But that doesn't relate to the triangle," Mahone continued, "I'm thinking more along the lines of the Greek alphabet. The letter pi and the triangle representing delta."
Why would Michael put tiny Greek letters into his tattoos? All of the pictures or words served some sort of purpose to help him remember the intricate details of his plans. My hands were now rested on my hips and brows knitted together trying to figure this out.
"Wait, I've seen Michael's tattoos up close and I don't remember seeing any Greek letters."
"They weren't on his actual tattoos. These were earlier drawings found on his hard drive that we fished out of the river. Notice that the first letter, alpha, coincides with the first step of Michael's plan."
I stared at the picture Mahone was holding up noting the tattoo English, Fitz and Percy. They represented the streets surrounding Fox River and what street they or we needed to take once the escaped occurred.
"Here's beta, gamma and delta." Mahone stated frantically tossing all of the tattoo pictures around in order. "So the last letter, omega, would be the last step of his plan."
My eyes drifted to the final tattoo, a picture of Jesus Christ poking out of a flower with the numbers 617 on the stem. I shut my eyes trying to picture the location of the tattoo thinking I may have seen it on one of his arms.
"Ok, you're probably right," I had to swallow the bile that formed in my throat with my admission, "but what does it mean? The point of the tattoos was that only Michael understands what they mean."
Mahone was staring at the picture as though he didn't hear me. He traced his fingers along the numbers.
"I doubt it's anything biblical." I continued. "In all my time with them I've never really heard them talk or act like they were especially religious."
"What about a date?" He blurted. "June 17. The final part of his plan could be happening
on that date."
"So that gives us two days." I replied skeptically.
He didn't outright respond to my statement, but the gravity weighed heavily in the room. If Mahone was right and Michael's step was occurring in two days, it would be difficult, nearly impossible to find the location and track him down in two days.
Mahone finally glanced in my direction. He was very good at keeping his face blank but even I could read the desperation in his eyes. They were almost pleading that if I had any idea where they might be heading I should share it. With a mere shake of my head I turned my back and walked to the other side of the room.
Standing in front of one of the empty desks, I used my good arm and massaged my shoulder, wincing in pain. Five days had made a world of difference in the healing and I ditched the sling, but still experienced discomfort from time to time. With a defeated sigh I turned my attention back to Mahone.
"I could use a pain pill."
He stared at me briefly before moving over to the closet where he kept the bag he took from me when he ransacked me at the hotel. He really didn't touch the items kept in there, leaving the spare gun and the money alone. However, each time I asked him for a pill I noticed the bottle was less and less full than before. I didn't quite understand why he needed to steal my medication when he could easily get something prescribed to him from being shot in the leg.
Mahone tossed the bottle in my direction and I caught it effortlessly. once I popped the pill in my mouth, I tossed the bottle back to him.
"Why haven't you told them about the money?" I asked referring to the agents upstairs.
He didn't respond and I didn't expect him to. He clearly was trying to develop a plan to retrieve Michael and Lincoln but I watched the way his mind worked and he was also simultaneously creating three more plans and that money was some sort of back up. It was surprising, as I assumed that Mahone was the sort to follow the rules explicitly. At least I used to think that before I found out he used his position of power to serve the Company.
A knock at the door made both of our heads turn. We were so rarely interrupted that no one bothered to answer the door, the person on the other side would either go away or be persistent.
It turned out to be the latter as the door creaked open and Agent Lang moved in. She looked me over more than once as though she suspected me to have killed Mahone by now. The thoughts certainly crossed my mind but I had never taken action. It was obvious that she was no fan of mine and thoroughly ignored me to speak to her superior.
"Sir, you asked me to give you updates regarding Benjamin Miles Franklin. I've heard that he has a meeting with Agent Sullins this afternoon."
Again he tried to keep a stoic face, but I could tell that Mahone did not like that news. I racked my brain through the federal agent personnel I knew but I felt so out of touch in my absence that I couldn't place the name. Whoever he was it was clear that Mahone was worried that C-Note would spill his little secret, that Mahone pressured him to kill himself. If the bureau decided to investigate the accusations around Mahone, the walls would close in tightly around him.
"I could report there as a sit in to the meeting." I stated with a smile. "I talked to him plenty of times in Fox River, I could see if he knows anything."
It would be nice to see C-Note again and maybe figure out if he had anything to offer regarding Michael and Lincoln. Although chances were high that he would not be happy to see me as an acting agent rather than a captured fugitive. He always trusted me a little less once he found out so seeing me might do more harm than good, but it was something I was willing to risk.
They both looked at me like I was crazy for even thinking they would let me anywhere near C-Note. I couldn't be offended, if I was in there position I probably wouldn't let someone like me near him either.
"He doesn't know anything. Before he tried to commit suicide, he was trying establish communication with Michael and was unsuccessful. It's likely the fear from that failure put him in a hopeless state."
I had to put maximum effort to not roll my eyes at Mahone's explanation. I wondered if he was starting to buy into his own bullshit.
Mahone was desperate for a change of subject, "what do you make of this, Lang?"
He showed her the picture of the tattoo that we were trying to solve. It was Jesus inside of a flower, how was that supposed to make any sense to anyone other than Michael? I listened as the two of them bantered back and forth about possible solutions: Christ rose from the dead, some sort of holiday celebration, the name of a battle in Germany. None of them made sense or sounded like Michael.
I remembered something from one of my first days working with Mahone he allowed to see all of the Fox River eight's files. I tediously looked through them not really caring if I found something helpful or not. But now, something seemed familiar about all of this that I was trying to place.
I walked passed Lang and moved to the scattered files across the table and dug until I found Michael's. They may have asked what I was doing, but I paid no attention as I flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for.
"Christ. in. a rose." I whispered with a smirk. Michael really was too clever for his own good.
Mahone cleared his throat, losing patience waiting for me explain what I was doing. I practically shoved the file in his face.
"The tattoo is Christ in a rose. Michael's mother's name was Christina Rose. Whatever he's doing has to be related to her." I gave him a triumphant smile as he read.
"I thought his mother was deceased." Lang countered skeptically.
It was a good point even though I would never admit it. After all, in the file it said she was dead.
"Lang, get Agent Mills to find out where Christina Scofield is buried and see if she is really buried there. Michael's hard drive was also full of information regarding Central America. We need to find out if his mother owned any property or has any family residing in Central America."
Lang nodded her head and immediately left the room to start her task. Mahone started shifting around the room, putting on his coat and grabbing items as though he was leaving. I started to ask, but he cut me off.
"I need to take care of some things. I want you to stay here and think of every single conversation you've had with Michael and Lincoln and remember if they ever brought up their mother."
I wanted to argue and demand that wherever he was going he would take me with him, but part of me was fearful of whatever he was doing or whoever he was going to meet. I watched silently as he moved to the door with one glance back in my direction.
"Nice work, Collins."
Then he was gone.
If I didn't despise Mahone with every fiber of my being, I would have been flattered at the compliment.
One hour passed.
Then two.
Three.
The longer Mahone was gone, the more my annoyance grew that he was out doing God knows what while I was stuck down in this hole. I had virtually no resources and no way to find out any further information regarding the whereabouts of Michael, so I resorted to fidgeting with just about every object in the room. Currently, I had sorted every pin in the room by size and color.
I was ready to move on to counting the staples when the door clicked open. Mahone walked in, more like pounced in and looked like a frantic mess. The jacket he had when he first left was now gone and his tie was loose around his shirt. I pushed myself from the chair and glared in his direction ready to give him a piece of my mind.
"Where were you? What the hell…" I started but was cut off when he gripped my upper arm and started dragging me across the room.
I tried putting up some resistance, but the pain was surging through my shoulder causing white spots to form in my vision. Somewhere, Mahone snapped and this was going to be the moment when he killed me. Throwing the closet door open so hard it banged against the wall, he pushed me inside. I turned to face him with wide eyes.
"If you value your life at all you will stay in this room and not make a sound."
He didn't give me a chance to respond before slamming the door in my face. I quickly moved to the door and gripped the handle ready to scream when I heard other footsteps enter the room.
I froze in place unsure of what was happening.
I made out Mahone's muffled voice through the door talking to the stranger, "I wouldn't hesitate to kill you if I felt like it would give me a moment's peace."
My shoulder was screaming but I covered my mouth with my hand trying to prepare myself if Mahone killed someone right now. He wanted to keep me quiet in this closet so I couldn't warn the person how dangerous Mahone was so he threatened my life to stay in here. I experienced a sort of deja vu with me hiding right before Mahone shot and killed someone. The memories flooded my mind and I felt sick remembering the sight of my father's unmoving body. Too many people had been hurt while I have stood by and done nothing, and I couldn't take it any longer. With resolve, I braced myself to hurl through the door to do whatever I could to help save this person's life.
"What would give you peace, Alex?" The calmness of that voice halted my plans.
The voice was unfamiliar to me but it was someone Mahone clearly knew and neither one seemed particularly afraid.
"Knowing that there was a light at the end of this tunnel, for me and my family. But do you see my son here, or my wife?"
I couldn't even picture Mahone with a wife and kid. The only picture in my mind was the person standing over my father's body after shooting him. The way his voice cracked when he talked about them made it seem like he loved them dearly, although he never mentioned them. But perhaps that was intentional.
"Who said the light was turned off?" That voice spoke with such certainty and confidence it was unnerving to listen to.
"I don't think you're understanding me." Mahone's voice escalated. "There's hard evidence out there against me that you can't make go away. I'll be arrested and prosecuted like some common criminal."
That would explain Mahone's panicked state when he first entered the room. Whatever that meeting was with C-Note must have been enough to set things in motion against Mahone. At least enough to the point that he was scared. My stomach flipped a little at the thought of him being arrested and prosecuted for all the pain he's caused with little regard to where that would put me.
"I can give you a chance to get away." The voice spoke so softly it was nearly a whisper. "Theodore Bagwell was apprehended in Mexico."
Tbag was in Mexico? I was impressed that he made it from Alabama to Mexico with what he had, but it was short lived thinking how furious he probably was when he regained consciousness with more than half of the money with me. Here's hoping we would never be in a room alone to give the chance to express that anger.
"Let me guess, you want him dead?" Mahone quirked.
My stomach flipped again, but this time it was because my nerves were shot. I realized that the person Mahone was talking to must be someone important to the Company. He told me they only wanted Michael and Lincoln. Tbag was a bad guy but that didn't mean I wanted him dead.
"Actually, no, there's been a change in a strategy. We're going to need Bagwell alive."
So many questions were burning through my mind as to why they needed Tbag for their strategy and what exactly the strategy was.
"How much further would I have to go?" Mahone almost sounded defeated.
"Panama."
I remembered earlier today Mahone talking about Michael getting a lot of information regarding Central America and Panama must be the actual location. Although there was a country, it still wasn't too specific on where Michael and Lincoln would be.
"All you need to do is put the brothers in the same location, we'll take care of the rest."
A set of footsteps moved further away from the closet door, and I assumed someone was getting ready to leave.
"You're almost there, Alex. Don't screw this up."
A door closed and everything went silent. The only thing I could hear was my own distressed breathing. A few more minutes passed before the door in front of me was opened revealing Mahone in front of me.
We were silent. I had questions, but I didn't know how to ask or what to ask first. It dawned on me that this Company guy would have killed me if he saw me in this room and Mahone could have put me in this closet to save my life. A dry lump formed in the back of my throat as I choked on trying to give thanks to this man.
"We need to go.. now!" He spoke.
He didn't give me a chance to answer before moving away from the door and effectively tearing all of the papers from the wall and knocking everything from the tables into a large garbage bag. He was essentially removing any trace of himself.
"So, the plan is to hand Michael and Lincoln over to the Company?" I finally spoke.
It was a stupid thing to say, that was supposed to be the plan all along but saying it out loud sent a pit deep within my stomach. A pit of uncertainty.
"Yeah that's the plan. And then I'm done." He said moving towards the door. "I need to be on the plane before the suits can track me down. If you want to stay here and wait for them, be my guest."
He knew I would follow him and it didn't take long before I grabbed the backpack in the closet and went racing after Alexander Mahone to find Michael and Lincoln in Panama.
I just hoped our stay wouldn't be a long one.