Before September 11th, the N.Y.P.D. had a small unit that, on request, reviewed the security arrangements of important businesses and facilities. “That was really just lights and locks,” a counterterrorism officer told me. Now the unit offers much more comprehensive, terror-risk assessments, free of charge. The N.Y.P.D. sends the officers who carry out the assessments to labs around the country for radiological, biological, chemical, and bomb training.
Sheehan and one of his detectives took me through an assessment they had produced for a prominent Manhattan institution. The detective, flipping slowly through a volume of photographs of walls, doors, driveways, fences, chimneys, air vents, and columns, told me, “We look at both the facility and its potential adversaries. This particular institution might be targeted by computer hackers, or animal-rights activists.”
The detective went on, “You see these columns here? No bomb-blast mitigation measures in place. Very easy for a truck to pull up right here, with this whole big structure up above. That’s bad. They’re hardening these columns as we speak.”
Not all businesses are thrilled to receive a detailed, official tally of their “risk exposures,” however. The alterations suggested are often expensive, and not all insurers agree that the liability implications of having such a list would be good for their clients if an attack occurred.
The No. 1 private-sector target in New York—perhaps the No. 1 target, period—is, according to many experts, Wall Street. I went to talk to James Esposito, the New York Stock Exchange’s senior vice-president for security. Esposito is big, imposing, in his sixties. He was the top F.B.I. agent in New Jersey at the time of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. “These guys are just like smugglers,” Esposito said. “They’re always going to be trying to come up with something different. It’s like a bad dream, and it won’t go away.”
“ ‘Groundhog Day,’ ” said his deputy, Sam Cocozza, who is ex-N.Y.P.D.
Wall Street has been closed to traffic at Broadway since the mid-nineties, and Broad Street and other blocks have been closed since September 11th. The result is an eerie, very un-Manhattan stillness. There are cops everywhere you look, including a full N.Y.P.D. Hercules team, with automatic weapons, armored trucks, and a K-9 unit. The cobbled streets are laced with iron fencing, heavy concrete planters, and huge steel bollards, anchored deep in the ground—a fixed defense against truck bombs. There are still plenty of tourists milling around, although the top attraction in the area, the Stock Exchange tour, has been shut down since September 11th. Indeed, it is believed that Issa al-Hindi’s reconnaissance team used the tour to case its target.
“They had counted the chairs in the Big Board room,” Esposito said sourly.
“We had sharpshooters, bomb dogs, drug dogs years ago,” Esposito went on. “But, suddenly, it’s so sophisticated. The N.Y.P.D. has created a body of experts that is just unbelievable. Without frightening the public, they’ve just been quietly going about their business. Our people have trained with the Police Department, the Fire Department, on C.B.R.N. We’re really customers of their expertise.”
I was walking through a crowded shopping district downtown with a senior police official. We were on our way to one of the “undisclosed locations” of the metropolitan antiterror effort. The official said, “Now, guess who the Feds are.” I saw two young white men in dark suits standing stiffly against a wall, failing utterly to blend into the scene.
A former federal prosecutor told me, “New York has never been a sought-after post among F.B.I. agents. That’s partly the cost of living, and partly the ferocious competition with the N.Y.P.D. Detectives are just so much more experienced than young federal agents at interviewing suspects and sources. It’s intimidating. F.B.I. agents parachute in. They don’t know the city. They look like aliens to us, let alone to an immigrant community.”
The N.Y.P.D. works closely with the F.B.I. on counterterrorism, mainly through the local Joint Terrorism Task Force. (The task force worked on the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, and apprehended the main perpetrators.) Tim Herlocker, the agent in charge of the local branch of the Bureau’s new Office of Intelligence, told me that the N.Y.P.D. had “soldiers to invest in this at a level that we never will have.” The N.Y.P.D., which is nearly twice the size of the F.B.I., “really stepped up,” Herlocker said, after September 11th.
Still, the tensions persist. The F.B.I. reportedly opposed the deployment of Morty Dzikansky to Israel, for example. John Colgan, the deputy chief for counterterrorism, says, “We reach through the F.B.I. to get federal assets. But the Bureau’s got to let us know what it’s doing in our city. You can’t have some guy you don’t know coming into your house to cook hamburgers on your stove. You might blow him away. We’ve got to be kept informed, or there may be trouble.”
Local police departments tend to resent the F.B.I.—if nothing else, for its tendency to condescend to them. Its agents actually have a better working relationship with the N.Y.P.D. than most, partly, no doubt, because the condescension runs both ways. The deep identity crises and public exposures of incompetence that have distracted and consumed the F.B.I. and the C.I.A. since September 11th may, paradoxically, have strengthened New York’s counterterror efforts by allowing it to move into the vacuum and build an aggressive municipal self-defense.
Cohen told me, “We’ve got the Feds working for us now, in a good way; it’s not the usual feeding of raw material to the experts.” It’s doubtful that anyone at the F.B.I. would put it quite the same way. When I mentioned Commissioner Kelly to Pasquale D’Amuro, then the F.B.I.’s lead agent in New York, he grew testy. “I don’t tell Ray Kelly what to do,” he said. “He doesn’t tell me what to do.” (D’Amuro recently left the F.B.I. and joined Giuliani Partners.)
Since the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, in 2002, there has been one large, inert, misshapen bureaucracy that, for New York, at least, symbolizes the extent of the Bush Administration’s neglect. When Kelly says that New York is having to defend itself “pretty much on our dime,” he is referring, primarily, to the budgeting formula under which homeland-security funds are disbursed. In fiscal year 2004, Wyoming received $37.74 per capita, and North Dakota $30.82, while New York got $5.41. Among the fifty states, New York’s per-capita allotment was forty-eighth. This bizarre formula is, from New York’s point of view, only slowly improving.
The bill for New York City’s antiterror budget, which is roughly two hundred million dollars a year, is footed, for the most part, by the city itself. Bloomberg’s view has been, from the beginning, that Kelly should do whatever he considers necessary, and that a way to pay for it will be found later.
Kelly, in return, has given Bloomberg a rare political gift: crime rates that have continued to fall without an over-reliance on the kind of tactics that alienated minorities during the Giuliani administration. The fact that crime is so low has also made the department’s ferocious new focus on terrorism possible. Kelly has sometimes infuriated the police unions by refusing to defend officers in controversial incidents. However, within the department, his dramatic restructuring of the Job has encountered surprisingly little resistance. He told me that was because police officers identified with the counterterrorism effort: “They see themselves on a mission to protect the city.”
“Salaam alaikum.” Mayor Bloomberg was greeting an auditorium full of Muslim community leaders last fall at One Police Plaza. Ramadan was about to begin, and Bloomberg and Kelly had invited them for an annual pre-holiday conference. The gathering had been blessed by a diminutive imam from Indonesia, who sang a verse from the Koran.
Bloomberg extolled New York as “a city based on religious tolerance,” and deplored bias crimes against Muslims (which have increased many-fold throughout the United States since September 11th). “The N.Y.P.D. is our first line of defense against hate and bias,” he said. He wished his esteemed constituents a good Ramadan. “Ma’assalama.”
Kelly was crisp and specific. He said that he would be increasing patrols around mosques for the holiday, and would put out extra plainclothes officers. “We want recent immigrants in particular to know that the Police Department is not an immigration agency,” he said. He added that he hoped that more Muslims would become police officers, and gave specifics—dates, phone numbers, Web sites—for applying to take the next police exam. He said he had no new threat information to report. “Still, we ask all New Yorkers to look at events through the prism of 9/11. If you see or hear anything suspicious, we urge you to call 311 and ask for the terrorism hot line.” Then he, too, wished the crowd a good Ramadan.
The Mayor left, but Kelly stayed and took questions. Some conferees looked as though they’d just arrived from a Saudi village, others from the Afghan mountains. There were turbans, djellabahs, tall black embroidered caps, red checked kaffiyehs, and Western suits, and many languages were spoken. Kelly listened closely to all questions and speeches, and gave respectful answers.
An African-American chaplain from the Department of Corrections was concerned about the treatment of Muslim women taken into custody. People were unhappy about being made to change their clothes, she said. Kelly said he would check out the protocol.
A Turk in a red kufi wanted to thank the police for twelve years of untroubled Ramadan parking at his mosque. This speech brought general applause.
Later, I told a senior police official about this pre-Ramadan lovefest. “Well, some of those guys in there don’t talk quite so nice about us when they’re back at the mosque,” he said.
One of the men he may have had in mind was Amin Awad, a co-founder and the president of the Al-Farooq mosque, in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn. Awad was at the pre-Ramadan conference at One Police Plaza—indeed, he goes every year. Sheikh Rahman preached at Al-Farooq in the early nineteen-nineties, and until 1994, according to the Times, the mosque openly raised money for Osama bin Laden. In 2003, Al-Farooq was implicated in a case in which the Justice Department accused a Yemeni sheikh of funnelling twenty million dollars to Al Qaeda. The Daily News called for the mosque to be shut down. In the end, the sheikh was convicted of providing material support to Hamas, not Al Qaeda, and no mosque officials were charged.
When I spoke with Awad in his tiny, third-floor office at Al-Farooq recently, he was circumspect about the N.Y.P.D. He has been a chaplain at a jail on Rikers Island for fifteen years, and he said that his advice to younger Muslims concerning the police is “Don’t ever take the officer as your enemy.” He also said that AlFarooq’s relations with the local precinct—the Eighty-fourth—were “very sweet.” But then he made the disconcerting observation that he himself was still not sure who the September 11th hijackers were, or even if they were Muslim.
Zein Rimawi, a Palestinian who helps run the Islamic Society of Bay Ridge, in Brooklyn, and who was also at the pre-Ramadan conference, is loudly critical of some police operations, including the Herald Square subway bombing plot, which he considers entrapment. But he is far more critical of the F.B.I., which he believes targets for harassment Muslim community leaders who decline to become informants. “We are like the African-Americans used to be. What they used to suffer, we are suffering now,” he told me. He also said, however, that relations between local Muslims and the police vary from precinct to precinct, and that in his precinct, the Sixty-eighth, things could not be better. “We have a problem, we talk with the captain, he’s very kind and gentle.” He laughed. “I’m even going to be a police captain for a couple of hours later this month, just to see how the precinct works.” On the other hand, in Sunset Park, where Rimawi is on the board of an Islamic school, relations with the precinct are not so warm.
Donna Lieberman, of the New York Civil Liberties Union, told me that she sees “lots of room for improvement” in the N.Y.P.D.’s treatment of the city’s Muslims. For example, she said, the department often contradicts itself about not being an immigration agency. Suspects under arrest are routinely asked whether they are citizens, and their answers are sometimes turned over to federal authorities.
I asked Kelly if the N.Y.P.D.’s relations with the city’s Muslim communities today are a challenge comparable to its dealings with the black community in the past. He looked a bit surprised. No, he said. The relationship with black New Yorkers went back, he said, “many, many years.” The Police Department’s relations with Muslims, Kelly said, weren’t even an issue before September 11th. “There was no history of real or perceived abuse,” he said. “We, institutionally, had not much contact with them. After 9/11, we have more.”
Hardening the target: that’s the term of art for the overarching goal of local counterterror work. It can help to know what’s happening thousands of miles away, but a densely layered system of municipal defense is a terrorism deterrent of a special type. It says, basically, Try another town.
There are obvious limits to what local cops can prevent. As Sheehan told a symposium of terrorism experts at One Police Plaza last year, “I don’t know what I can do about somebody bringing a nuclear bomb through the Port of Newark. That’s the federal government’s problem. You can drive yourself crazy thinking about that.” The attack plans for September 11th did not originate or mature locally, and nothing about them would necessarily have appeared on the radar of even today’s extended, hypersensitive, metropolitan terror-detection system. The attacks came, literally, out of the air. Other law-enforcement or national-security agencies might have caught and stopped them, but that was the point—that is exactly why New York has stepped up its defenses.
No counterterrorism program, no amount of homeland-security spending, can eliminate the threat. For politicians, there is a temptation to hype it, to practice the politics of fear. Some, like Bloomberg, have resisted the temptation; the Bush Administration has not. But spreading alarm is one of the aims of terrorism, and fearmongering subverts the counterterrorism effort, which essentially seeks to manage the threat. Cohen, talking to the same symposium as Sheehan, brought the N.Y.P.D.’s position into sharp focus when he said, “New York City sees more than a thousand arrests a day, and we have to watch them all—watch for the one that means something to us.” That is a description of serious counterterrorism work. It is done quietly, incessantly, with no gratuitous public alarms.
Endless vigilance, no victory; success means nothing happens. Such anti-drama is the essence of prevention. Meanwhile, there is an element of theatre to a lot of counterterror work. The American “sleeper cells” that we have heard so much about—but whose existence has yet to be convincingly demonstrated—may prove to be as elusive as Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction. Believing that jihadist fighters may be inside the United States waiting to strike feels, some days, like a paranoid leap of faith (other days, like after London, it may not). Sleeper cells, or something very like them, have been uncovered in Europe certainly, though there is nothing here comparable to the millions of angry young Muslims living there. The “enemy” here is still in large measure a phantom. It may be necessary to presume he exists, but when will that cease to be true?
The N.Y.P.D.’s Hercules teams are the city’s street-level deterrent. Their deployment can be startling. A Chevrolet Suburban with blacked-out windows pulls up to the curb, doors fly open, and officers in Kevlar combat helmets and body armor, carrying M-4 assault rifles, rush to positions. Pedestrians freeze; some recoil. Motorcycle patrols often accompany the teams, and a bomb-sniffing dog is always there. The site may be a bank or a bus station or a concert hall—or an ordinary block with no self-evident potential target. The team knows why it is there; bystanders are left to guess. I watched a Hercules team in action one afternoon on Broadway, north of Columbus Circle. Some passersby ignored the commotion, many hurried away, but a few stopped to ask the officers what they were doing.
“We’re here for you,” they were told.
“It’s for the Bible college,” a woman said knowingly, pointing at the American Bible Society offices down the block. (Wrong.)
“It’s the Israeli film festival,” an older man said, pointing at a movie house in the other direction. (Right.)
“We’re here to protect you.”
An immaculately dressed sergeant from intelligence who was observing explained the scripted answers: “They don’t want to find themselves in a debate about the intifada or Ariel Sharon.”
Hercules deployments are “asymmetric,” unpredictable—they deliberately follow no pattern. They are self-conscious displays of force, presuming the existence of enemy reconnaissance. “The goal is to create a hostile environment for terrorist operatives in the city,” Detective Abad Nieves, a Hercules officer, told me.
Hercules commanders like to point to Iyman Faris, an Al Qaeda operative with designs on the Brooklyn Bridge. He was here, in 2002. We know what hotel he stayed in. We know what Pakistani restaurant near City Hall he ate in. He admitted, after his capture, in Ohio, in 2003, that he was plotting to destroy the bridge. After months of casing the target, he sent a message to his Al Qaeda handlers that “the weather is too hot,” which investigators took as a reference to intensified police activity around the bridge. Hercules teams, acting on tips, provided much of that activity.
Most New Yorkers are happy to see the Hercules teams, according to the cops I asked. One of them said, “It’s only tourists from the Midwest who don’t like us, because Americans aren’t used to seeing automatic weapons on the street. Foreigners are.”
The people who did not seem intimidated at all, I noticed, were older women. Several of them marched right up to the warrior cops and asked if there was something they should be worried about. But it occurred to me that people who were not happy to see machine guns and military gear on Broadway might not feel comfortable saying so.
I asked Lieutenant Cory Cuneo, one of the Hercules officers posted outside the Israeli film festival, about the worst hostility he had encountered in this role. He said it had come from a woman outside the Winter Garden, across from Ground Zero.
“Why are you out here?” she said.
“There used to be two buildings right over there,” Cuneo told her.
“That was just one event,” she said. “It’s being used to justify all kinds of horrible things.”
“Just one event? Where are you from?”
“New York.”
“No. Originally.”
“New York.”
“No way. Nobody who was born and raised here would ever say what you just said.”
I thought the woman sounded like a New Yorker, all right. But, of course, Cuneo sounded like one, too