Narcos: Mexico

I want you to finish your food.

We're not eating again until dinnertime.

- You tossed and turned all night. - Yeah?

Anything going on at work?

Nothing new.

Everything's back to normal.

Normal's good. Right?

Yes.

Everything's good. Very good.

Drink your milk too.

What happened, man? You forget how to pack?

Clean this up.

Put this stuff in those boxes.

- What happened? - Offside.

Yo, we're out of beer.

Yeah, all right. I'll go.

Pack this up and put it over there.

- What's the score? - Still one-zero.

Those assholes don't know how to play.

Aponte can't defend worth a shit since last season.

Gonna get the beers, be right back.

Zarco, keep an eye on those clowns.

Hey! Really need the bazooka, Rambo?

Funny guy.

Just go.

Cross it, asshole!

Sell-out crowd here

on a beautiful, sun shiny day.

Two and two is the count. We're up to six pitches in this at-bat.

It is Fan Appreciation Day here at the ballpark.

Last day of the regular season.

The two-two pitch.

Breaking ball. Swung on. Hits it off his foot.

That's $3.99.

And the count remains two and two.

Um...

So, this game of cat and mouse continues.

The crowd really wants a strikeout here,

in a tight game in the top of the sixth.

Looks in and delivers.

What's the score?

Popped him up.

Still one-nothing.

Come on, Dodgers.

He's got enough room, and he corrals it...

Thank you, miss.

So one not-very-quick out with a nine-pitch at bat

here in the top of the sixth.

And that'll bring up the second baseman who's one for three...

Son of a bitch...

Go, go, go, go!

Get back! Get back!

Thank you for seeing me, sir.

Like this, in your home.

Azul tells me things in Sinaloa are going well, Chapo.

It's coming along, coming along.

Handling business, sir.

Good to hear.

I wanted...

I wanted to talk to you about Héctor Palma.

Said you'd think about letting him back in,

- giving him a pass. - Yeah.

Thing is,

Palma tried to pull out of the Federation.

- He fucked up. I know that. - No, Chapo.

He didn't fuck up.

He betrayed all of us.

It was just talk. He never did anything.

- Because I stopped him. - He was messed up in the head.

The Cochi thing, it hit him hard, just like everyone else.

Heard anything about Palma?

Hmm?

You've spoken to him, Chapo?

No, not since he ran. Haven't heard a thing.

Hmm.

Güero is a good man.

A good worker.

They like him in Sinaloa. He can help grow the plaza.

Make money for everyone.

The bosses, they're... cool with it.

What do you mean?

We spoke about it, all of us.

Palma's coming back. And they approve.

You're a good friend.

Loyal.

All right, Chapo.

I'll let you know.

Thanks for coming.

Thank you for your time.

Take care, Chapo.

What?

Bosses are taking votes now?

Palma's popular. Respected.

Clemency could be smart.

After all the shit we've been through...

What have you heard about Palma? Where is he?

We know the family's holed up in Acapulco.

His wife used a credit card to pay for a motel.

Have guys keeping an eye on it, but Palma hasn't showed.

Once money starts coming in from the Juárez shipment,

if Héctor Palma is ready to ask for forgiveness,

a pardon makes sense.

We interrupt this program

with breaking news coming out of Sylmar, California.

From New York City with a special report.

Federal agents in California...

Hey, Morris, it's coming on now.

You hear about this thing, Breslin?

Some shit went down in L.A.

... to this country by the drug criminals,

the untold tons that are still getting through

to the streets and brains of Americans, especially the young,

and how hard it's going to be to turn that around.

David Dow reports.

Authorities say a citizen's tip led them to the warehouse

in a North Los Angeles suburb,

where they made the largest cocaine seizure in history.

At least 20 tons, with a street value that could range as high...

That doesn't make fucking sense.

It gave me cold chills

when I walked in and looked at it,

and the magnitude of it has really not sunk into me yet.

It's enormous. Uh...

It's gonna bring tears to a lot of people's eyes tonight

because it's not gonna be on the street.

Up to that morning in 1989,

the biggest cocaine bust in American history was four tons,

grabbed in Fort Lauderdale.

But the world heavyweight title holder?

That was the 11 tons pulled out of the Colombian jungle

in Tranquilandia.

That shit was legendary.

You added both those busts together, though,

still wouldn't touch the haul from that warehouse.

Sylmar blew them away.

And it wasn't fucking close.

North of 20 tons.

Worth $7 billion, easy.

No one had ever seen that much cocaine in one place.

Oh, and there was over $12 million in cash on hand.

Pizza money, I guess.

And all of it, the entire place,

was secured with a six-dollar padlock.

Fuck.

It was the kind of bust that makes careers.

Or ends them.

We've been short on cash for months.

And the fucking Colombians who were finally going to pay us

just lost billions of dollars.

How are the Colombians gonna pay us now, eh?

I'm not sure.

"I'm not sure."

But they're going to pay us.

They have to. Right?

With what? They just lost more coke than anyone's ever seen.

- They better fucking give us our money. - Or what? What can we do?

I'll fuck them up, bro.

Really, Ramón? How?

I'll get a fucking army, all killers, man.

With what money?

You gonna walk up to the Colombians and ask them for a loan?

Hey, hey.

Or have them buy you fucking guns? Don't be stupid.

Things are gonna get ugly, man.

We don't need a damn army.

That's what I just said!

Yeah.

Hello.

Of course, it'd be my pleasure.

Come to Guadalajara, I'll see you here. Much safer.

It's okay. Stay with the car.

Would you like a drink, sir?

Strawberry daiquiri.

I preferred Panama.

But Guadalajara, it's okay.

Look at you, still walking around.

You must have forgiving partners.

It was unfortunate.

But ultimately...

insignificant.

Really?

Insignificant?

Listen to yourself.

Seven billion dollars' worth of cocaine, lost on your watch.

That's insignificant?

We Colombians can always make more cocaine, Miguel Ángel.

On top of that, there's my fee.

Two hundred and ten million dollars.

That's a lot of money.

Well, as I once said,

cocaine is fast.

Money is slow.

Perhaps we can do something about that this time.

My partners and I want to make you a proposal.

One that we believe you will like.

Let's hear it.

We are prepared to offer you $4,000 a kilo.

Half up-front.

The other half upon delivery.

That's $280 million to your organization.