Jack Carlton Reed Pablo Escobar Verified -

“I didn't wake it,” Carlton said softly. “I bought it. Three billion dollars in dormant claims. Every route, every safe house, every politician who still remembers how to look the other way. It’s not a cartel anymore, Dad. It’s a logistics company.”

Jack Carlton Reed sat alone in a rented apartment overlooking the old neighborhood, a half-empty bottle of aguardiente sweating beside his laptop. He wasn’t a cop anymore. Wasn't exactly a journalist either. He was the kind of ghost that former DEA agents become: useful to some, hunted by others, invisible to most. jack carlton reed pablo escobar

Pablo Escobar had been sloppy.

Jack laughed—a dry, broken sound. “You rehearsed that speech.” “I didn't wake it,” Carlton said softly