Sort of normal. Besides working in counterterrorism, Moore was a Swat team member, sniper, pilot and undercover agent. Before his retirement in 2008, he won several awards from the US Department of Justice.

Drama permeates the pages of Moore's non-fiction debut, which chronicles his FBI career from the academy to retirement. He sprinkles his memoir with ripping real-life yarns about undercover assignments, counterterrorism activities and Swat team capers.

Increasing his story's intrigue, Moore also confesses to cock-ups and the impact of his job on his marriage. Even more personally, he documents how colon cancer grounded him for a year before he rejoined the FBI with renewed fervour.

Often, the investigator is humorous - FBI pranks make the cut, but he can also be touchy-feely. Take how he reacts to the 1999 Los Angeles Jewish Community Centre wounding of five people - including three children - by white supremacist Buford Furrow, armed with a semiautomatic weapon. The tragedy overwhelms Moore with an urge to see his own children.

'I gathered them all on one bed in the girls' room and just held them all. I thought that life was funny; usually the kids got scared and needed to be with Daddy to feel secure and make the pain go away. That night, Daddy needed to be with the kids to feel safe and just ease a little of the pain,' he writes.

Finally, his wife Michelle forces him to go to sleep at about 4.30am.

Four hours later, the phone rings. Good news: Furrow has turned himself in to the FBI, Moore reveals.

Bolstered by its striking true-life storyline, his memoir is a gripping read. One quibble: his attitude towards the FBI borders on adulatory, which raises the question of whether his beloved Bureau imposed censorship.