'There were five and they stayed for five months,' Apu told him.
'Did you hear any of their names?' Nazir asked.
'Yes,' Apu said.
'I heard 'Sharab' but no last names.'
'Did they ever leave you alone?' Friday asked.
'Only in our bedroom,' Apu told him.
'One of them was always on guard outside.'
'Did they ever mistreat you?' Friday asked.
Apu shook his head. He was like a prizefighter who kept getting peppered with jabs. But that was how interrogations needed to be conducted. Once the target opened up the interrogator had to keep him open. Friday looked over at the stone barn.
'Who took care of your chickens?' Friday asked.
'I did in the morning and Nanda--that's my granddaughter--she took care of them in the late afternoon,' Apu replied.
'The Pakistanis were with you then?' Nazir said.
'Yes.'
'How did your eggs get to market?' Friday asked.
'The Pakistanis took them,' Apu replied.
That would explain how the terrorists had cased their target in Srinagar without being noticed. But it did not explain the field phone signal that came from here.
'Do you or your granddaughter own a cellular telephone, Mr. Kumar?' Friday asked.
Apu shook his head.
'What did she do in her free time?' Friday pressed.
'She read and she wrote poetry.' 'Did she always write poetry?' Friday asked.
Apu said she did not. Friday sensed that he was on to something.
'Do you have any of the poetry?' Friday asked.
'In the room,' Apu told him.
'She used to recite it to herself while she worked.'
Friday was definitely on to something. He and Captain Nazir exchanged glances. They asked to see the poems.
Apu took them inside. Friday was alert as they walked into the two-bedroom house. There was no one inside or anywhere to hide. There was hardly any furniture, just a few chairs and a table. The place smelled of ash and musk. The ash was from the wood-burning stove on which they also did their cooking. The musk, Friday suspected, was from their guests.
Apu led them to the bedroom. He took a stack of papers from the drawer in the nightstand. He handed them to Captain Nazir. The poems were short and written in pencil. They were about everything from flowers to clouds to rain. Nazir read the earliest.
It rained five days and flowers grew. And they stayed fresh and new- In my cart I kept a few To sell to all of you.
'Not very profound,' Nazir said.
Friday did not comment. He was not so sure of that.
The captain nipped through the others. The structure seemed to be the same in all of the poems, a
'Mary Had a Little Lamb' cadence.
'Go back to the first,' Friday said.
Nazir flipped back to the top sheet.
'Mr. Kumar, you said Nanda recited these poems while she worked?' Friday asked.
'Yes.'
'Is she a political activist?'
'She is an outspoken patriot who was devoted to her parents,' Apu said.
'My daughter and son-in-law were killed resisting the Pakistanis.' 'There it is,' Friday said.
'I don't follow,' Captain Nazir said.
Friday asked Apu to stay in the bedroom. He led Nazir back outside.
'Captain, there were five Pakistanis,' Friday told him.
'The woman mentions the number five in the first line of the first poem. The Pakistanis stayed here--she mentions that word too. She says something about her can going to market.
The Pakistanis sold the eggs for her. Suppose someone got her a cell phone. Suppose the line was open and
