Like so much here, the job is far more than what it says on the tin. As well as fraudsters, dopesters and the gangsters of any big city - he's got Al Qaeda and the Taliban overflowing out of the in-tray.
 
His office is a surreal unofficial drop-in centre for a city, a country, teetering on the brink, five years to the day since the Talibs were run out of town. Hang around there on any day of the week and you'll see people asking him to get family members released by kidnappers; see people coming in with arms caches and bricks of plastic explosives; hear him sending in armed cops to ambush Taliban suspects in the suburbs. You name it.
 
A building contractor complains about a third kidnap attempt, then rolls up his trouser leg to reveal what the gangsters did during the last abduction. It is terribly disfigured, they poured petrol over his leg and set it on fire to try and muscle him off his contract.
 
He knows that the General will be sympathetic, because he himself knows all about threats.
 
At least two suicide bombers have been sent to the capital with The General as the designated target. He disarmed one of them with his bare hands, grabbing his arms to prevent him hitting the button before cutting the wires to the bomb-belt.
 
So they poisoned his tea instead. He is still on intravenous medication, suffers internal bleeding in his skull and periods of fatigue and shakiness. He, his wife and children are all receiving death threats every few months.
 
And yet he sticks at it, and not least because people believe that The General is not corrupt, and there are very few people in authority in this country who enjoy that reputation and trust, and so he ploughs on.

The only slightly disconcerting thing about being with him is an undeniable passing resemblance to George Galloway.