Even though he’d been retired for two years, he still wore the dark suit and conservative tie and scribbled everything down in a small notebook. Yet he was nothing like any FBI agent Henry had ever met. He had an air of authority about him, a detached coolness that in the situation, struck Henry as unnatural. There was also something in the set of his jaw, his sardonic manner, which labeled him, more than anything, a rebel and a strong-minded man. A hint perhaps to why he left the agency to strike out on his own. He’d been recommended, with high praise by someone Henry trusted, to be his second-in-command on the ICS Team. A man who could get things done, they’d said. A man with connections and old friends in the Bureau. A man with hidden talents. Only later would Henry recall that phrase and understand what they’d truly meant. Unlike other federal agents Henry had known, Greer had long hair, even if it was combed straight back on his head.
