Festival of Terror

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When the Chechen war returned to Moscow Saturday — as two female suicide bombers blew themselves up at a rock festival, killing at least 18 and injuring more than 50 — the choice of targets was a surprise to some rebel factions. After separatists from Russia's southern breakaway republic seized a Moscow theater last October — they were killed, along with 129 hostages, when security forces stormed the theater — rebels threatened further Moscow raids. And recently, they signaled that attacks on "hard targets" such as police stations were imminent. So the decision to instead strike a pop concert was perplexing to some rebels. To others, who have vowed to hit any available target, it was only to be expected.

The attacks were the first suicide strikes inside Russia proper and the first bombings in the capital since 1999, when a series of apartment-block explosions killed more than 300. Those blasts prompted then Prime Minister Vladimir Putin to launch a brutal crackdown that helped him win the presidency. Despite Putin's claims of victory over the separatists — a referendum in March is to pave the way for elections — Chechnya remains mired in violence, with 10 to 15 of the 80,000 Russian soldiers there killed each week. Al-Qaeda has infiltrated the Muslim republic, and its deadly methods have been adopted by fighters eager to retaliate against the Kremlin.

"The growing violence breeds more suicide bombers who act out of sheer desperation," says Salambek Maigov, the Moscow-based representative of rebel Chechen President Aslan Maskhadov. Warnings of possible attacks in Moscow had triggered a security escalation; metal detectors had been installed at the entrance to Tushino airfield, site of the annual Krylya rock fest. As Zalikhan Elikhadzhaeva, a 21-year-old Chechen with a bomb strapped to her hip, realized the machine would expose her, she detonated her lethal cargo. The second bomber struck soon after at an outdoor market near the gates, so there were fewer casualties than if either had entered the field, where 30,000 fans were gathered. The sounds of one of Russia's most popular bands, Machina Vremeni, drowned out the commotion and many were unaware of what had happened. Fearing mass panic, the authorities allowed the festival to continue. "Playing near the disaster was horrid — it gave me the creeps," guitarist Alexander Krutikov said later.

Putin still behaves as if the Chechen problem is too far away to be of much concern. But with a presidential election next year and a new breed of terrorist at large in Moscow, he's now almost certain to turn up the heat.