What a difference September 11th has made. "Fortunately, for America, terrorism has not yet invaded our borders the way most experts predicted it would," writes Whitcomb in COLD ZERO, his memoir of a still-unfolding career with the FBI. And while the observation was written well before the tragedies in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania, its author and the nation will never make such a comment again, making this book all the more timely and insightful.

Whitcomb traces the peaks and valleys of his 15-year career with the FBI, shedding much light, from his early days as an "FNG" (F---ing New Guy) with the Bureau investigating trailer park trash crimes to his six years as a sniper with the ultra-elite HRT (Hostage Rescue Team) and current status as an Academy teacher and Special Agent called in for emergency situations. He often carries his most useful professional tool, a rifle he dubs "The Truth" along for the often bumpy ride.

The fact that Whitcomb's pre-FBI career included stints as a newspaper journalist and political speechwriter/press liaison on Capitol Hill serves him well, as his writing flows well, mixing storytelling and polemics that would wobble a lesser scribe. His recollections range from the humorous (interviewing a woman who insists that she was sexually assaulted by Martians and remains consistently aroused) to the deadly serious (taking up close photographs of the dead body of Kathy Weaver at Ruby Ridge and the charred and fleshy remains of Branch Davidians in Waco). As the bulk of the narrative concerns his time with the HRT, the reader gets a fascinating glimpse into a very small, very elite group of men. One gets exhausted simply reading about the intense, unrelenting and difficult training that the team endures. Whitcomb is not above a bit of cock-crowing in his ultra-macho recounting, but it is certainly understood that one must be an extra-alpha male to even consider this job.

Perhaps the most interesting revelation, though, is that a sniper's job actually consists of long periods of boredom and inactivity speckled with brief, adrenaline-pumping episodes. The movies and television have conditioned us to believe a certain way about hostage rescuers --- all action, all the time. But in fact, Whitcomb and the rest of his team were required to literally lay in wait for weeks just for the possible chance of getting off one shot. And if that means he's not allowed to move for 12 hours, covered in slime and muck and dodging snakes and heavy rain, so be it. That's the job, and that's what has to be done.

After the Ruby Ridge and Waco incidents --- neither one of the Bureau's finer moments --- the FBI and its practices came under huge investigation with Congressional inquiries and testimony, and Whitcomb became disillusioned with some leaders (Director William Sessions, President Clinton) and admiring of others (Attorney General Janet Reno) for the Monday Morning finger-pointing and blame game that inevitably occurred. But if anything, Whitcomb shows that there is no one person or one leader who gets the blame.

Although occasionally filled with a little too much military and weaponry detail for the casual reader, COLD ZERO (the name given to the point where what a sniper sees in their scope matches exactly where the bullet hits) is a fascinating look into a rarely-seen side of law enforcement. Since Whitcomb is still an active agent the FBI, who also vetted the text, it might be even more interesting to find out what Whitcomb doesn't or can't say about his job --- although what does make it on the page seems freer of opinion than one might expect.

The tragedies of September 11th also unintentionally weigh heavy on the book's last chapter, in which Whitcomb imagines an attack of biological terrorism on New York City. Although it's plainly meant to illustrate and sum-up what law enforcement's response would be, in light of recent events it does not read like a fanciful training scenario as much as a blueprint for reality. We can only hope that at least this chapter never becomes fact.