“Plata o plomo,” Peña muttered. “Silver or lead. We keep offering silver. But Pablo only ever gives one thing.”
“Jefe wants the November numbers,” Chuzo said. Narcos
“You know what Pablo said?” Chuzo asked, crouching down. “He said, ‘Luis is a good accountant. Too good. A good accountant knows where the bodies are buried—because he helped count them.’” “Plata o plomo,” Peña muttered
“I’ll do it,” Luis whispered. “But you get my family out first. Medellín to Miami. Tonight.” “Plata o plomo
Chuzo stared for a long, terrible second. Then he grinned. “You accountants. You’re all thieves.” He tucked the ledger under his arm and left.
