Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (60 page)

"Yeah, this wasn't a bombing, it was a poisoning," Lloyd said.

Grant shook his head. "Okay, but even more inconsistent is the fact that he phoned. That's the first time he's done that."

Agent Williams looked confused. "I don't know what difference it makes. Even if we believe he's bluffing, we still need to check it out, just to be safe. It's not like we can open the gates and take the risk the poison really exists."

Grant knew neither the agent nor Lloyd was following his line of reasoning. In fact he wasn't sure he knew himself. All he knew was that he'd just been given clue number four, and it fit. All four attacks were intended to send more of the
Colorado River
downstream. He felt it more than knew it.

"No, you're right, Agent Williams. I'm not saying we shouldn't close the gates. The point I'm trying to make is about the bomber himself. He doesn't care what happens to the canal, and by warning us, he's telling us his intent is not to kill, he just wants us to divert more water downstream."

"But what's downstream?
Just
Mexico
."

Shauna walked over from the river and joined the conversation. "The Mexican Dam is called Morales. It's similar to Imperial Dam in that its primary purpose is to divert water for irrigation."

Lloyd looked confused. "So even if our bomber's intent is to steal all this water for the Mexicans, would their canal even hold it?"

"No way," said Grant. "Their canal isn't even as big as the All American."

"Then what's below that?" asked Agent Williams.

"Nothing," said Shauna, "just a dry riverbed. Morales
diverts
almost the entire river west."

Agent Williams sounded surprised. "Then where does the water go that continues downstream?"

Shauna shook her head.
"Basically nowhere.
There isn't much left. By then the riverbed is almost dry."

The special agent looked confused.
"All the water?
Dry riverbed?
You mean the
Colorado River
is gone after Morales?"

Grant winced. It was like he had just been gut punched. His mind began racing and the voices of the others started to fade. The puzzle fit. He had all the pieces. And now that he did, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. It was the damn Mexican border; he hadn't been thinking beyond it. He had been hypnotized by the old "that's not my job" theory, the same theory he hated when others adopted it. In order to understand the intentions and motives of the Colorado River bomber, he needed to look at the
Colorado River
as a whole.

Shauna continued, "Yeah. Like I said before, we ended up signing a treaty with
Mexico
to guarantee what they get today. Without the treaty, the river wouldn't even make it there. The Americans would use it all."

Agent Williams thought about that for a minute. "What about where the river hits the ocean?"

Shauna laughed.
"The delta?
There isn't one. The water doesn't make it there any more. The whole thing is dried up."

Grant jumped back in, but his voice was dreamy. "People who visited the delta in the early 1900's described endless marshes, filled with millions of waterfowl. Huge fish hunted in the brackish water. The delta stretched across almost fifty miles. Explorers considered the Colorado River Delta one of the most incredible places on earth. Jaguars were even seen hunting there."

Agent Williams looked between Shauna and Grant. "And it's all gone now?"

Grant nodded. "All of it. The river bed dries up almost sixty miles from the ocean; it just kind of disappears into the sand."

Lloyd, who had been silent, argued, "But every map I've ever seen, shows the Colorado River emptying into the
Gulf of California
."

Grant looked him in the eyes and shook his head. "Not any more. Not for decades."

Lloyd rubbed his eyes,
then
responded with vigor. "Hey, I'm no tree hugger, but that stinks. So we need water.
Fine.
Divert a little here and there, okay.
But, all of it?
Every drop?
We dry up a delta that big so we can have water fountains and palm trees in
Los Angeles
and
Las Vegas
? That seems a little over the top."

Agent Williams spoke again, almost pleading. "I don't understand how this could happen."

Grant hung his head. "Well, it did. It was a different time." He knew how it happened. Everyone had been looking out for number one. When the
U.S.
government allocated the water in the Colorado River between the western states and
Mexico
in 1930, the squeaky wheel got the oil.
California
squeaked the loudest, and the delta didn't squeak at all. Early in life Grant learned that water flowed downhill. But, after joining the Bureau, Grant learned that water flowed uphill, toward money, and in the West, nobody had more money than
California
.

Grant continued. "Well, I think we finally have a plausible motive for our bomber."

"Do we ever," Lloyd said.

Grant felt funny. They had just cracked the case wide open. The
Colorado River
bomber was an environmentalist. He was sure of it. Now the FBI would know where to look. They could track him down. But Grant didn't feel as good as he should, and he sensed that the others didn't either. It had been easier when they thought the bomber wanted to destroy, maim, or kill. Now the motive turned out to be restoring a wildlife habitat. Now what? Grant knew what they had to do, but his feelings had changed.

"So what's next?" asked Agent Williams.

Grant considered. "First, we need to tell Phil."

Agent Williams nodded.

Grant pointed south. "Then somebody needs to contact
Mexico
again, and let them know what's happening."

Grant knew what else they needed to do. Subconsciously, he'd known it all along. "And finally, we need to start making arrangements to go into
Mexico
. With all the water that's headed downstream, the Colorado River Delta is going to be wet again, after over fifty years. And I have a feeling our environmentalist is going to be there to celebrate it."

* * *

3:00 p.m. - Palo Verde Dam,
California

The helicopter blew dust in all directions as it lifted off from the Palo Verde Diversion Dam. Grant caught a final glimpse of Don Simpson from above. The head of the Palo Verde Irrigation District still looked nervous. He had been extremely anxious when he found out they were leaving. But, all things considered, things were fine at Palo Verde. The water levels had been slowly dropping since peak, and the rate at which the dike was washing away had slowed. The farmers were lucky, especially compared to what might have been if they had not intentionally broken their dam. Grant had tried to reassure Don of that fact before leaving. Not that Grant could blame him. Many of the farmers would hold Don personally responsible for the dike's failure. Blame waited on both sides of tough decisions.

As the helicopter followed the river downstream, Grant marveled at the way the river had changed, transformed from a calm green to a rushing brown. Sometimes, when it left its banks and spread out, it almost reminded him of the upper
Mississippi
, or maybe the
Missouri
. That probably made sense as the upper
Mississippi
averaged a little over 600,000 cubic feet per second, and for the next two months, the
Colorado
would be very close to that.

Soon after the helicopter left Palo Verde, Grant saw a small town shimmering beyond the countless grids of farm land, about five miles ahead.

"What town is that up there?" Grant asked.

"That would be the thriving metropolis of
Blythe
,
California
," Lloyd responded.

There were many words Grant could use to describe Blythe, but neither thriving nor metropolis came to mind. He looked at his watch and noted it was after 3:00 p.m. "Shauna," he said into the headphones, "how long before the water gets to Imperial Dam?"

"5:45," she responded immediately.

"All right, that's almost three hours; we have some time." Grant pointed ahead to Blythe. "Lloyd, head over there. Let's see if we can find a burger or sandwich place with a vacant lot next to it."

Lloyd looked over at Grant, surprised. "You want me to land the helicopter next to a fast food joint?"

"Sure, unless you can fly through the drive-thru. I haven't had anything since breakfast, and I'm starving."

Lloyd grimaced "It'll blow dust all--"

"I'll buy," Grant added.

"Why didn't you say that to start with?" The pilot smiled broadly.

"I'm in," Shauna said, from behind.

"Me, too," said the FBI agent.

Lloyd covered the five miles in a couple of minutes.
"How about that one on the other side of the freeway?
There's a whole field to land in behind it."

Grant saw it at the same time. "That'll work."

"I was kinda hoping for something cold, like a deli," Agent Williams said.

Lloyd glanced back at her. "They've got ice."

When the helicopter landed, Grant opened the door and hopped out. Turning back toward Lloyd he cupped his hands. "What do you want?"

Lloyd hung his headphones on the hook and opened his own door. "I'm coming too."

Grant saw that both women were already out. He instinctively crouched to avoid the rotors and jogged out from under the helicopter, meeting Lloyd on the other side.

As they walked across the sand toward the parking lot, Grant noticed a family standing next to their car. By the way they were
staring,
he guessed that helicopters did not often land next to hamburger places in Blythe.

Grant caught up to the pilot. "You could have kept the engine running,
then
we could have left when I got your food."

Lloyd held out his hands. "Driving with a cheeseburger and fries in my five-speed jeep is tricky, but if I were to try it in the helicopter, well let's just say you guys would be better off watching from a safe distance."

Grant nodded, realizing suddenly that both the pilots' hands were always occupied in a helicopter.

After they ordered and were seated, they ate in silence, all of them stuffing food in their mouths.

"Good idea," said Lloyd, with a mouth full of
french
fries.

Grant nodded a response. He glanced out the window and saw two men standing near the helicopter, looking it over. He swallowed a mouthful of food, and motioned to Lloyd. "Should I worry about the Lookie Lou's?"

Lloyd glanced up,
then
responded while still chewing. "Nah, people are always checking out the choppers. They won't hurt anything." He swallowed and rolled his eyes toward Agent Williams. "Besides, if they try something, the FBI here can put a bullet in 'em."

Agent Williams made a thumbs-up sign with her hand.

Grant swallowed, took a swig of his soda, and looked at the agent. "So what did Phil say?" Grant knew she called her boss just before they left the Palo Verde Diversion Dam, but he hadn't heard the result.

She took her time and finished chewing before responding. "It's hard to tell for sure what Phil's thinking, but it seems like he agrees with your delta theory."

"What about
Mexico
?"

She shook her head. "That, he was very clear about. We are not to cross the border. He's going to charter a jet from Hoover Dam to either
Yuma
or
El Centro
. He said he'd call the Mexicans while he waited for the jet."

"They can't get a jet from Hoover Dam," said Lloyd through a mouthful of french fries, "but a sea plane might work."

Agent Williams glared at Lloyd. "I know that. They're using the
Boulder
City
Airport
."

Grant laughed, which caused the agent to glare at him too.

After a few minutes, when they were done with their hamburgers, both women excused themselves and walked to the restroom. Lloyd helped himself to both women's extra
french
fries. Grant glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot.

"What kind of paperwork would we need to fly into
Mexico
?"

Lloyd stopped chewing. "Didn't the FBI just tell us not to cross the border?"

"I'm just asking a hypothetical question."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. "Well, in that case, if we just wanted to fly over the border and look around, kind of an aerial tour of the delta, then nothing."