All language subtitles for Narcos.mexico.S01E02.STRiFE-ION10.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Shh, shh. Hey, hey...

Drop the gun.

Hey, don't move! Don't move!

Cuff him!

- Clear?
- Yes. All clear!

Gentlemen. Clear! Let's
bring it down. Let's go!

Let's go.

Wow. These guys, uh...

they didn't put up much of a fight.

How much, you think?

250 pounds. Not more.
Maybe a little less.

Same as they give us every month.

So this is a set-up?

It's more like a donation.

Locals get a win, a little
piece of the action.

Everyone's happy.

Poor fella. I'm gonna see
if I can calm him down.

Butch is a horse man.

More of a ladies man myself.

Kiki.

Come look at this.

Entry wounds are at least a day old.

But our friend the captain
says that they just shot them

when they were trying to escape.

Sounds like more fish
stories for the gringos.

Excuse me.

Go ahead, Captain.

Recognize him, Jaime?

Hernan Naranjo.

He runs a lot of the Guadalajara trade.

We found his brother dead
yesterday at the Hotel Americas.

Really?

Someone's moving on their territory?

Let's walk.

Yeah, there's not much rhyme or reason

in the pecking order around here, Kiki.

Just backwood dirtbags growing
ditch weed on half an acre

and every once in a while
killing each other.

Best we can do is hold tight
and ride through the bullshit.

Take what they give us.

Motherfuckers.

Sorry, bud. Ain't like you
could've rode her home.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori -
-- www.MY-SUBS.com --

Life 101.

All plants, even marijuana,
exist to make seeds.

But sinsemilla flips that on its head.

Starts with a female plant that flowers

without ever being pollinated.

Kind of like the immaculate conception.

But instead of baby Jesus,
you get bigger buds,

packing more THC,

making it the gold
standard of Mexican dope.

But cross-pollination can
ruin an entire crop,

so growing it outside is impossible

unless you're in the middle of a desert,

which presents its own challenges...

'cause it's a fucking desert.

Rafa, you have a call.

They're dying, Cuco.

They're waiting, brother.

Manuel! What are you doing, asshole?

- Put that shit away.
- Yeah, Rafa.

What the fuck are you doing, idiot?

We're growing the shit, not smoking it.

Fucking weed.

Yeah.

- What's wrong with the weed?
- That geologist was full of shit.

There's not enough water, Miguel.

So find some, Rafael.

We're setting up the biggest
marijuana distribution network

in the history of Mexico.

It won't mean shit if
we don't have weed.

Fix this, brother.

This the pilot?

Amado, my nephew.

Has a good head on his shoulders.
Worked as a cop for awhile.

Been helping me out.

- Hey! You have a license?
- Sure, man.

What kind you looking for?

Let's go.

How's the plantation?

Great.

Weed up to your eyeballs.

First Juárez, then I'll
tell you where's next.

Looking back,

even knowing how it all turned out,

it's still hard to comprehend the scale

of Miguel Félix Gallardo's dream.

The fucking audacity of it.

But if you're gonna try,
you need to know that

before the cartels existed,

things worked differently in Mexico.

The narcotics game was made
of lone wolf traffickers,

mostly Sinaloans, who purchased
permission from the cops

to run drugs in a particular
city or territory.

They called it the Plaza System.

Here's how it worked:

Anyone looking to do
business in the territory

had to cut in the plaza boss,

pay him a piso, or a toll.

And if they chose not to, trust me,

the boss made his displeasure known.

But here's the key:
each plaza stood alone,

was its own world, run
by a certified asshole

who'd done enough dirt
to get crowned king

of that particular piece of turf.

The job tended to attract
hard motherfuckers.

So a scheme to convince a
bunch of rival plazas,

led by trigger-happy
sociopaths, to work together,

take direction from some
other dirtbag? Yeah, right.

Good luck, friend.

I mean it.

The baby's fine. Mama
needs a foot massage.

Okay.

We should find out the sex.

It gives you a little time to wrap
your head around another boy.

Oh, what makes you so
sure it's another boy?

Oh, come on.

Come on. I don't need to hear
about what a man you are

and neither does our future daughter.

I want to use the same
formula we gave Kikito.

They can send it from
Texas, but it'll cost more.

- You listening to me?
- Yeah.

The doctors here are good
and the formula isn't.

Oh, I missed my turn. Hold up.

Where the hell are we?

Uh...

What are you doing?

Hold up, hold on.

Are you following someone?

No, uh... Sears told me that there's
a good birria place nearby.

I, uh... I must have heard wrong.

Jesus, Kiki. On the
way home from the OB?

You never know when you're
gonna get lucky, right?

Just don't get lucky when you're
picking up Kikito from school.

Set the table for dinner.

Hey, that means make the table.

We're going to speak
more Spanish, Kikito.

- Huh? Good luck.
- You're not staying for dinner?

No, I gotta get back
to the office, babe.

Kikito, where are your binoculars?

Perfect.

And this is what makes the difference

between permeable and
impermeable surfaces.

Class is over.

Didn't you hear, pussies?

Get moving! Get the
fuck out of here! Go!

Fast. Move.

Come on. Let's go!

Hurry up! Move it!

Come on! Let's go!

My babies are dying.

Because of you, asshole.

What's up?

What's up, Pablo?

Are the beers cold?

You look fatter, Don Neto.

- think so?
- Yeah.

Problem in town?

Nah, man.

You're proposing a monopoly.

We're producing more than anyone else.

With good distribution,
we'll dominate the market.

Once we control it,
we set a fixed price.

Our price.

On top of that, we don't have to
worry about getting undercut.

More profits will come.

And little by little, more stability.

Hmm.

Like how the Arabs do, right?

OPEC for weed.

There you go. More or less.

And with control, there
won't be violence.

Only works if every plaza signs up.

Yeah.

We just need the important
ones. Most of them we know.

- Sinaloans.
- Yeah.

Like blondy here.

Wandering motherfuckers.

They're everywhere. Fucking
Jews of the mountains.

No. We do business with any
man we trust and respect.

Even if he's from a
shit-stain like Ojinaga.

- Hey! Don't pull too much! Slowly!
- Yes, boss.

That nag cost me a lot of
fucking money, that asshole.

You might have concerns.

Why don't you come to our
meeting in Guadalajara?

See what we can achieve together.

You seem like a smart man,
Miguel Ángel. My problem is...

your boss.

He's not very smart.

Pedro Avilés is not a man
you can do business with.

We've had bad blood over
some bullshit for years.

No, man.

I don't think it would
work. I don't accept.

I'm aware of your dispute. In fact...

he asked me to let you know
he regrets his part in it.

Look...

those were his words.

"Tell him that it's time to move
forward." That's what he said.

I'll come to Guadalajara, sit
down with Avilés, the others.

But if I don't see proof
you got the cops on board

to grease this fucking OPEC thing?

That'd be all.

That's enough.

Okay then, brother.

That's nice.

Nice, huh?

- Does the date, too?
- Yeah.

Actually, to celebrate the beginning

of this new venture, here you go.

Check it out.

Like that, smooth.

Like to be there when you tell Pedro

he has to kiss Acosta's dusty ass.

What else could I do?

You couldn't have told
me about the bad blood?

I was sent to make introductions.

You want a history lesson,
buy a fucking book.

- You don't give a shit, do you?
- What's there to give a shit about?

You know what this can
be, for all of us.

I also know when you start
moving furniture around,

people stub their toes and get upset.

We have to grow.

Otherwise, life does whatever
the fuck it wants with you.

It always does, sunshine.

Fuck you, old man.

Okay?

Enough. Pick a side already.

So this super farm, it's ready?

'Cause just laying irrigation
in would take months, no?

Yeah.

What Acosta doesn't know won't hurt him.

You disagree?

No. You got balls, man.

- The watch was a cool touch.
- Right?

- Yeah.
- Fake.

So, enough weed to supply the
American market for a year.

Right on.

And then?

What?

You going to get all that product
across in trucks, or what?

Yeah.

Planes, man.

A shitload of planes.

That's the future.

Félix's dream was to create a

union of Mexican traffickers.

To make good on that,

he had to sign up enough
bosses from the right plazas.

And that meant convincing some
of the scariest dudes in Mexico

to work together for once.

Shit wasn't easy.

But Félix grew up in Sinaloa.
He understood these guys.

And he'd done his homework.

That meant knowing which
asshole responded to flattery...

and which just wanted to
hear the fucking numbers.

But there was one thing each and
every one of them needed to know:

That this idea of his was
blessed by the powers that be.

'Cause without that in
Mexico, you got nothing.

Tell your boss to come to
Guadalajara for the meeting.

Our new partners want to make
sure the DFS is on board.

The director will be there. His
time better not be wasted.

Who is he?

Nobody. Some ex-cop from Sinaloa.

Smarter than the others, though.

The official name was

the Federal Security Directorate,

known in Mexico as the DFS.

Their emblem was a tiger, 'cause
why not? Tigers are cool.

The tiger is a powerful animal

that doesn't fear danger.

That's how an agent from the Federal
Security Directorate should be.

Came up with their own anthem.

Shit too weird to make up.

♪ That's how an agent ♪

♪ From the Federal Security
Directorate should be ♪

After World War II,
Mexico's new president

was eager to attract U.S. investment,

which meant picking a
side in the Cold War.

To prove Mexico could get tough
on Ivan, the DFS was created,

which basically meant if the CIA needed

shit done in Mexico, DFS did it.

Tapping phones, keeping an eye
on Soviet and Cuban diplomats,

and making sure any opposition

to the ruling PRI party
was kept in check.

Think Kent State was bad?

When students gathered in 1968 to
protest all the money being spent

on the Mexico City Olympics,
the DFS showed up too...

and killed hundreds
of unarmed civilians.

Apparently that qualified
them to provide

security for visiting
American diplomats.

Carrying a DFS badge was a license
to extort, traffick, murder...

basically do whatever
the fuck you wanted,

which is why Félix needed them on board.

These were the guys
everyone was scared of.

What you're saying is that...

the desert sits on these
moving Frisbee things...

and we just need to keep looking.

Geology is an inexact science.

Hopefully.

Hold up, Rafa!

This pussy's saying we have to re-dig

more fucking holes to find water?

- No!
- No fucking way!

Do you know anything about aquifers?

Or about confining beds?

Then you shut the fuck up and
go dig holes, asshole! Come on!

- Go fuck yourself.
- Let's go, motherfuckers.

Let's go.

Grab your things. Come with me.

Let's measure. You better find my water.

How long you been sitting on 'em?

Just a few days.

There's traffickers just going
in and out, in and out.

Look at it.

Business is booming.

Look at the license plates.

Zacatecas, Sonora, Baja California.

I mean, all out of state.

They're pushing drugs out
and bringing cash back in.

- We gotta move on it.
- We gotta move on it?

- Yes, sir.
- We gotta move on it?

- You're guessing. This is a guess.
- No. It all adds up.

You have any idea what it takes to get

the MFJP up for a raid this size?

I mean, it's like teaching
a cat to play fetch.

Make them do their job, sir.

Instead of taking that
monthly donation...

fucking take whatever they
don't want us to have.

Let's see if you're right.

You wanna know how fucked up Mexico is?

The hard part wasn't running a raid.

It was getting the MFJP
off their asses to do it.

First, you had to wait for the
right commander to come on duty.

- How's it going?
- Hey.

- Good luck!
- Thank you.

Hey, guys.

Then for him to hear you out...

... you had to share enough to make
sense, but not give it all away.

The trucks will be rolling heavy
and we can hit them easy.

It'd be a solid bust
for you with the DF.

Real nice opportunity
for you and your boys.

"Opportunity" being MFJP code for

"a chance to score off the seizure."

It was truly an art, wrangling
federales into just doing their jobs.

Nobody in front of me, gentlemen.

- Got it?
- Yes, got it.

I'd get to those trucks as
fast as you fucking can.

Don't move, motherfucker! Don't move!

Hey! On the ground!

Down!

Keep going. Keep going.

Down! On the ground!

Clear!

- Police!
- Drop your weapons.

Lower your guns. Search the place.

I need a bolt cutter.

Let's get him some bolt cutters.

Let's do it.

Fuck.

Round up everyone.

Charge them with possession
of dangerous plastic pipe.

I'm sure in America

you strike fear into
plumbers everywhere.

Don't waste my time again.

Let's go.

Well, damn, Kiki. I think he likes you.

He's mad because he had
to do his fucking job.

This place is dirty as fuck.

Hey, man...

you need to slow down.

Sir, if there's nothing to it,

then why is he guarding
this place with...

Because this pipe's expensive and
they'll steal anything here.

But you don't know that because
you're new and you're pressing.

I know you came here to make cases,

but it ain't gonna happen in a day.

Let's go.

Fucking drill.

- Is it here?
- Yeah, here.

- There he is.
- Yeah.

What's up, Benjamín?

How's it going?

Miguel Ángel. Gentlemen.

- You just gonna sit here or what?
- No, let's go.

Looks like you don't miss Culiacán.

"El otro lado" is 3 blocks away.

Any asshole with a truck
can make good money.

- Electronics?
- Yeah.

Japanese shit. Designer jeans.
Some dope here and there.

Hey, 'Mon!

- Where you going?
- What?

Pancho said I could get an ice cream.

"Pancho said."

Those TVs aren't gonna move themselves.

You're gonna get fat, little bastard.

Come on, dude!

So, partner with Pedro Avilés.

Yeah.

And we all get rich.

No more blue jeans and toaster ovens.

I'll talk to my brothers,
but I'm interested.

If it's how you say.

But only if it's cool with El Cubano.

- Talking about Sicilia Falcón?
- Yeah.

He sells coke to movie stars.
What does he care?

He made me and my brothers
welcome in Tijuana.

I won't do anything that pisses him off.

That's okay, bro. I'll speak with him,

make sure there's no misunderstandings.

This isn't Sinaloa, man. Falcón's slick.

He hangs with big shots.
Connected people.

I know someone who can
arrange a meeting.

You can find people
from Sinaloa anywhere.

- Miguel Ángel.
- Hi.

- It's been so long.
- Rodolfo's 18th birthday, I think.

This is Ernesto Fonseca
Carrillo, and his nephew Amado.

Amado Carrillo Fuentes. Pilot.

Isabella Bautista. My pleasure.

Hey. Is that Lucia Morales?

Yes.

She's going to sing for us later.

Maybe you can tell her you're a pilot.

Fuck, yeah.

Come on. I'll take you to meet Alberto.

We'll be back.

All right. Good evening.

Cheers! Cheers, guys!

You fit right in with these people.

No. I'm good at pretending.

Whoo!

Rich people can't get
enough of the shit.

Yeah. They never get enough.

The margins are unbelievable.

Juan Matta Ballesteros. Owns
the top airline in Honduras.

Handles transportation for the
Colombians. Could introduce you.

No.

Cocaine's tricky. It's
still a niche business.

Colombians only move real
weight through the Bahamas.

But your Cuban friend,
he's the real deal.

- He must be doing something right.
- Yeah.

Now it's our time to build an empire.

Is that what we're doing?

It's okay, Tony. We are with friends.

Hey, Tony.

Tell Mr. Félix here how many
men you killed in Vietnam.

Not enough, Mr. Falcón.

He said "not enough."

Your home's very beautiful.

- Thank you for seeing me.
- Anything for Isabella.

This must be serious.

Your friend and I are the only
two here who aren't drinking.

Miguel Ángel worked as a
bodyguard for my uncle.

He was the only one
who'd play with us kids.

But only after his shift was
done. He's a serious man.

Maybe he'll play with you
now. If you ask nicely.

I'm here on business.

Yes, I know.

You want to move Sinaloan
weed through Tijuana

using the Arellano Félix boys.

♪ It's not in the way ♪
♪ That you hold me... ♪

Tried the Colombian shit before?

Once or twice.

Bullshit.

♪ It's not in the way ♪
♪ That you stayed till the end ♪

♪ It's not in the way you look ♪

♪ Or the things that you say ♪
♪ That you'll do ♪

♪ Hold the line ♪

♪ Whoo ♪

♪ Love isn't always on time ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

Ay.

♪ Hold the line... ♪

See that, uncle? Its balls
look just like yours.

Asshole!

Uncle!

What's up with those Chinese fuckers?

They're going to fuck each other up.

♪ Or the things ♪
♪ That you say that you'll do ♪

♪ Hold the line... ♪

What a fucking party, man.

Holy shit!

It's a different business than yours.

We won't be in competition with you.

Now that's a relief.

It's good for everyone.

One single organization...

that would control all the cultivation

and distribution of marijuana in Mexico,

which means less violence...

less bullshit.

I give you my word, this won't
interfere with your business.

We'll be the perfect neighbors.

Isabella's right, as usual.
You are a serious man.

You have my consent, Mr. Félix.

Welcome to Tijuana.

Well, thank you.

I hope you won't be offended if I
offer you some insight, but...

the idea of Mexicans, let alone
Sinaloans, getting organized...

seems unlikely. No offense.

Yeah.

Just give me some time and
I'll change your mind.

You have a lot of work
ahead of you, friend.

Hmm? A lot.

A lot. Enjoy the party.

Alberto does what he likes.

What the fuck?

Seems everyone does in this place.

We're a long way from
Sinaloa. Both of us.

Isabella, wait.

Mmm.

I forgot you're the last
decent man in Mexico.

Let's hope not.

I want to make some real money.

Thank you for your help.
I won't forget it.

Miguel Ángel...

if you can make this work, trust
me, I won't let you forget.

- You're up early.
- Oh, I couldn't sleep.

Thought you said there was
nothing in those trucks.

Just don't piss anyone off.

Well, that's what I do.

I'll check in later.

Just a little help for tonight.

Fucking bullshit.

Sons of bitches.

What the fuck, Rafa?

You fucking kidding, Rafa?

You've lost your mind.

Rafa, chill the fuck out.

God damn it.

Rafa, you're going to kill us all.

No fucking way! No fucking way, dude!

No fucking way, dude!

The little sneak hides the candy.

She found a stash in the laundry basket.

That little cheat. Just like her mom.

Hold on, honey.

The DFS is downstairs.

And the boss is here.

- I have to go, Maria.
- Miguel.

Avilés will listen to you.

Long as you tell him
what he wants to hear.

Yeah, talk to you later.

Kiss the babies for me.

Neto says you got these motherfuckers
to agree to this thing.

That's right. They agreed
to show up at least.

Truth is, I never thought
this shit would work.

- Yeah.
- But here we are.

Sir, there's one last thing to
handle in order for this to work.

You need to make amends
with Pablo Acosta.

I have to do what?

What the fuck are you talking about?

I know it's difficult but...
it's the only way.

Just this last thing.

Once it's done, you'll
control the largest

marijuana organization in Mexico.

Not just Mexico. In the entire world.

I knew this was a dumb idea.

Sir.

You just shake his hand, say a
couple of words and it's done.

And in return, Acosta has
to show you respect.

They all do.

They'll work for you.

You'll be king, Don Pedro.

I'll smooth things over with Acosta.

Thank you, sir.

I'll wait for you downstairs.

What's up, boys?

Fuck that.

So then, gentlemen, we are guaranteeing

protection for all your plazas.

With the agreement of every man here,

my boss, Pedro Avilés of Sinaloa,

Pablo Acosta of Ojinaga, the Arellano
Félix brothers from Tijuana,

our friend Gabino Salcido from
Mazatlán, Filemón Medina of Zacatecas,

Rene Verdugo from Nogales.

And of course the DFS,
which will coordinate

security for our arrangement.

Today is an important day for all of us.

Gentlemen, we have our consortium.

Cheers!

Gentlemen...

this is a proud day to be Mexican.

I want to toast to the man
who made this possible...

brought us all together...

Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo, our
brother from Sinaloa. Cheers.

Cheers!

And I would like to say that
none of this could happen...

without the leadership of Pedro Avilés.

We owe you a lot. Thank you, Boss.
Thank you!

Bravo!

I have something to add.

I'm happy to proceed with
this fine arrangement.

With one small modification.

I've made it a practice in
my life, and in my work...

never... to work with
a lying cocksucker.

So that means Pablo Acosta is out.

You hear me, motherfucker?

Get the fuck out of my consortium.

Boss, with all due respect, without
Juárez, there's no agreement.

If Juárez's going to be
undercutting our price...

my family's not interested.

Let's go.

Get the fuck out. We don't need you.

Let's go.

You're coming back to Sinaloa
with me tonight, Miguelito.

I don't think city life
agrees with you, son.

Fuck.

- Ready?
- Fuck this.

Say the word, bro. We have guns too.

No.

Thanks for everything, Amado.

Take care of yourself, Don Neto.

Do me a favor.

Get this to my wife.

You got it.

It was a beautiful idea, Miguel Ángel.

What the fuck is happening? Let's go!

Get in the back.

Come by my place tomorrow.

You got it, Pedro.

Let's go.

Just tell my wife and my
son where I'm buried.

So the little son of a bitch can
catch up with me in ten years?

No, thanks.

Look.

Sometimes, it's better
to know your place.

To just stay the fuck put.

You kidding me?

Fucking pigs. Five hundred should do it.

Identification.

Call your boss if you want
to know who I am, asshole.

You. Hands on the wheel.

Hands on the wheel.

Get out of the car. The three
of you as well. Come on!

You guys are making a mistake.

How many mouths am I feeding tonight?

Hey! What the fuck!

Neto!

What the hell! What's going on?

I heard enough before I left.

And...

your friend...

tells me he can't do it without you.

No, wait.

Please.

Boss.

Grab the driver.

Get out, motherfucker. Come on!

You're from La Tuna, right?

Your name?

- Joaquín.
- We have a bunch of Joaquíns.

What else do they call you?

Chapo.

You want to work for me?

Okay, Chapo.

You and I are partners now.

You know what that means?

Yes.

Let's go.

- Still driving you to Sinaloa?
- No.

We're going back to Guadalajara.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori -
-- www.MY-SUBS.com --