Those Who Call
The man who opens the door is a short, squat man with thick rimmed glasses. We must be quite a shock to him, two muscular guys with long dark suits showing no sign of sweat in this hot, Georgia summer. But he knows why we're here.
My partner speaks first, “Are you Mr. Martin H. Greer?”
“Who wants to know?” he says. But he knows. A man with interests like Mr. Greer's is sure to know who we are.
I flash a badge and say, “A lot of people, Mr. Greer. We believe that the alleged encounter that you had, on last March third, may be a matter of national security.”
He briefly glances at the badge.
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