'I'll buy that,' August said.
'There's more than that, though.' Rodgers said.
'When Pakistan was knocked out of Kargil in 1999, the Indian Special Frontier Force knew that enemy cells would be left behind.
They couldn't hunt them down with soldiers. The locals would have known if strangers were moving through a village. And if the locals knew it members of the cell would have known it. So the SFF recruited a shitload of locals to serve in their Civilian Network Operatives unit.' The general tapped his laptop.
'It's all here in the intelligence overview.
But they couldn't give the recruits normal militia radios because, that close to Pakistan, those channels are routinely monitored by ELINT personnel. So the SFF gave their recruits cell phones. The agents call the regional office and complain about break-ins, missing children, stolen livestock, that sort of thing. What they're really doing is using coded messages to keep the SFF informed about suspected terrorist movements and activities.'
'All right,' August said.
'But what makes you think the calls on this list aren't just routine field reports?'
'Because CNO personnel don't make routine field reports,' Rodgers said.
'They only report when they have something to say. There's less chance of them being overheard that way. I'm willing to bet that there are terrorist strikes to coincide with the termination of each of those series of calls. A target was hit, the cell moved on, the calls stopped being placed.'
'Perhaps,' August said.
'But that doesn't explain the call to the temple right before the blast.' 'Actually, it might,' Rodgers told him.
'I don't follow,' August said.
Rodgers looked up at Honda.
'Corporal, would you please get the TAC-SAT?'
'Yes, sir.'
Rodgers turned back to August.
'I'm going to ask Bob Herbert to check on the dates of terrorist strikes in the region,' he said.
'I want to see if reports from field phones stopped coming in after terrorist strikes. I also want Bob to look into something else.' 'What's that?' August asked.
Honda closed his laptop and stood. He lingered long enough to hear Rodgers's reply.
'I want to know what kind of detonator caps the SFF uses for counterterrorist strikes,' the general replied.
'Why?' August asked.
'Because the Mossad, the Iraqi Ala mn al-Khas, Abu Nidal's group, and the Spanish Grapo have all used PDEs on occasion,' Rodgers said.
'Phone-detonated explosives.'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Srinagar, Kashmir Wednesday, 6:59 p. m.
It was nearly dark when Ron Friday returned to the bazaar.
Though he was curious to see how the authorities here were handling the investigation he was more interested in what he might be able to find out about the attack. His life might depend on that information.
The rain had stopped and there was a cold wind rolling off the mountains. Friday was glad he had worn a baseball cap and a windbreaker, though the drop in temperature was not the reason he had put them on. Even from his room he could hear helicopters circling the area. When Friday arrived he found that the two police choppers were hovering low, less than two hundred feet up. In addition to looking for survivors, the noise echoing loudly through the square helped to keep onlookers from staying too long. But that was not the only reason the choppers were there. Friday guessed that they were also maintaining a low altitude to photograph the crowd in case the terrorist was still in the area. The cockpits were probably equipped with GRRs--geometric reconstructive recorders. These were digital cameras that could take photographs shot at an angle and reconfigure the geometry so they became accurate frontal images. Interpol and most national security agencies had a 'face-print' file consisting of mug shots and police sketches of known and suspected terrorists. Like fingerprints, face-print photographs could be run through a computer and compared to images on file. The computer superimposed the likenesses. If the features were at least a 70 percent match, that was considered sufficient to go after the individual for interrogation.
Friday had worn the baseball cap because he did not want to be face-printed by the chopper. He did not know which governments might have his likeness on file or for what reason.
He certainly did not want to give them a picture with which to start a file.
The blast sights had been roped off with red tape. Spotlights on ten-foot-tall tripods had been erected around the perimeters.
Physically, the main market area reminded Friday of a gymnasium after a dance. The event was over, the place eerily lifeless, and the residue of activity was everywhere.
Only here, instead of punch there were bloodstains. Instead of crepe there were shredded awnings. And instead of empty seats there were abandoned carts. Some of the vendors had taken their carts away, leaving dust- free spots on the ground in the shape of the stall. In the sharp light they resembled the black shadows of trees and people that had been burned on the walls of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by nuclear fire.
Other carts had been simply abandoned. Perhaps the owners had not been there when the blast occurred and the hired help did not want to stick around. Maybe some of the sellers had been injured or killed.
