Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (64 page)

Lloyd pointed at her. "So, what do ya like better?
Digging around after explosions looking for clues, or blowing stuff up yourself?"

She glared up at the pilot.

"It's okay. You can tell us," Lloyd prodded.

She pointed at him. "This had to be done. It had to be done right."

The pilot's eyes bored into her. "
That don't
mean you didn't get off doing it, does it? Look, I know you loved watching it blow up. I can see it in your eyes. I liked seeing it. I can admit it."

Grant tried to hide his smile as he watched Lloyd push her buttons. He felt like interjecting, saying something to stop the harassing, but then her composure changed and she finally smiled.

"Okay, it was impressive to watch," she said.
"Since it had to be done."

Grant smiled, happy the attack was over. He liked Lloyd, but the pilot scared him sometimes, especially the way he talked to the FBI.

Both the special agent and Lloyd looked up at Grant. He could see that Shauna was also looking at him too. He knew they were waiting for his decision. He looked over at Imperial Dam. The massive stream of water plowed through the huge opening. Downstream a mile-wide river ran into the
Yuma
farmland, but the water level was stable, he couldn't deny it. He listened for the voice that had been nagging him into
Mexico
. For some reason the urge had dissipated. But then again, the urge could have subsided because it knew he had already given in to it.

* * *

6:30 p.m. -
Lake Powell
,
Utah

Finally, it was their turn. The boats that had been beached above the Mastercraft were gone. Greg had already backed the trailer down the long ramp, and it was waiting for the boat to be lowered onto it.

In the early afternoon, two cranes had been brought in from
Las Vegas
to lift the boats. They were unlike anything Julie had ever seen before. They reminded her of a military Hummer, in that they were low, flat, and looked heavy. Each had tires bigger than truck tires, and each had a large telescoping arm right in the middle, with the logo CARRYDECK inscribed on the side. One was slightly larger than the other, and Greg told her it would lift 20 tons, not that Julie knew how that related to the boats they were lifting.

But Greg and Paul could not stop talking about how the cranes were perfect for the job at hand. The large crane lifted the boats on the left side of the ramp, and the smaller one lifted the ones on the right. As soon as they had placed a boat on its trailer, they moved the cranes down a boat length, parked and began lifting the next boat. Two helpers wearing hard hats attached special harnesses that slipped under the bow and stern,
then
once they lifted the boat in the air, the operator could put it wherever he wanted.

When the Mastercraft was hoisted up, Julie couldn't help being scared that they would drop it, but she had nothing to fear. The crane operator lowered the boat down onto the trailer in a slow, gentle motion. Greg and Paul hurried to tie down the boat, and when they were finished, the two men in hard hats removed the harness and the crane moved to the next boat. Since there was a line of trailers waiting to replace the Crawfords on the ramp, Greg motioned for everyone to get in the truck and they pulled the boat to the top of the hill out of the way.

In the parking lot, Greg pulled over next to Paul and Erika's SUV and turned off the engine. They climbed out of the truck and Greg and Paul began securing the boat for the journey home.

Erika looked at Julie, smiling.

"What?" Julie asked.

"Nothing.
Just that we're done. We can go home."

Julie looked at her watch. She tried to remember which day it was, and saw that it was Wednesday. Originally, they had rented the houseboat until Friday. "I guess we're leaving a few days early, aren't we?"

Erika laughed. "I think we left at just the right time."

They both turned and looked down the hill to where
Wahweap
Bay
had once been. It no longer looked like a bay. Most of the water was gone, replaced by a thin stream of water running down to merge with the
Colorado River
. It was how it must have looked before the dam was built. The entire dock structure of Wahweap Marina including the floating store, gas station, rest rooms, and of course, hundreds of houseboats, were all grounded on the shore. Julie was saddened by the sight. What a waste.
Lake
Powell
had been one of the most incredible places in the world.

"Let's go home," Greg said.

* * *

6:40 p.m. -
Hoover
Dam,
Nevada

Fred Grainger stood on top of Hoover-Two and stared out over the water of
Lake Mead
. He was uncomfortable. He tried to visualize the scene over a hundred miles upstream where the Colorado River exited the
Grand Canyon
and emptied into the huge reservoir. What was happening up there? Until the floodwater entering the lake fell to less than what
Hoover
was dumping from both spillways and all the head gates, the level of
Lake Mead
would continue to rise.

Over the last hour, since 5:00 p.m., the lake's steady rise upward had slowed, but it had not stopped. And the water was now at crest plus 13 feet 3.2 inches, which was almost a foot higher than Shauna had projected. Fred wondered how much higher it could go.

He was not worried that the water would actually breach the dike. The Hoover-Two dike was twenty feet high, and he knew the water wouldn't go that high. But the crest was never designed to hold horizontal pressure. With the additional weight of the thirteen feet of water, the entire wet surface of the 600 foot dam, from the top to the bottom, had an additional 850 pounds per square foot pressing against it. Fred was no longer worried that Hoover-Two would hold. Now he was worried that the concrete in Hoover-One would hold.

"Level?"
Fred called out.

"It's still holding at 13 feet 3.25," one of Fred's technicians responded.

Fred considered that. It had been the same for the last twenty minutes. Had it stabilized? He hoped so. He wished it would start dropping. But he wondered if that was unrealistic. If only Shauna were here. She would know what to expect. Why couldn't Grant have left the analyst at
Hoover
? Wasn't
Hoover
more important than any of the other dams downstream?

"3.24!"

Fred looked over at the technician. Had he heard correctly? "What did you say?"

"It dropped a little.
13 feet 3.24 inches."

"Watch it for a few minutes," Fred ordered. "I want to make sure it's really stable."

Fred looked at his watch, 6:45 p.m. He felt a wave of energy radiating from somewhere deep inside.
Hoover-Two.
They had done it. They had saved Hoover Dam. Governor Jenkins and Commissioner Blackwell had told Fred to notify them immediately when it peaked. He wondered where the two politicians were. They were probably eating dinner in the visitor center someplace. He needed to find them and tell them. They would likely call another press conference and stage another photo for history. Fred was so happy that he didn't even mind.

"Level?" he asked.

"Still 3.24," the technician said.

Fred headed for a telephone. The governor could wait. He needed to call Grant.

CHAPTER 38

6:45 p.m. -
Yuma
,
Arizona

Grant could see the
Yuma
airport ahead from the helicopter. It was larger than he expected, with four runways. Many small planes were tied off to the side of the runways. Past that was a row of metal hangars where the best planes were stored.

Grant rested his head back against the seat, feeling tired. The pilot and both women in the back must have felt the same, because no one had spoken since they left Imperial Dam. The all-nighter from the night before was definitely catching up to him. He had that urge again to
lay
down.

One advantage to being a paper pusher was the lack of abnormal hours. Compared to that, the past two days were from a different lifetime, a lifetime that, in spite of the chaos, had been in some ways satisfying. Whether he could sustain that type of lifestyle seemed doubtful. Besides, what kind of career would provide the same kind of action he had lived through for the last eighteen hours?
A policeman?
An FBI agent?
He didn't think so. Even those jobs were probably 90% paperwork and 10% action. No, the reality was that the last two days were an aberration, and he knew it.

His stomach told him the helicopter was descending and he opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized he had shut. He saw a jet parked away from the other planes. Lloyd brought the chopper in next to the isolated jet. This time, Grant resisted the temptation to jump out of the helicopter. He let his head rest against the seat back until the rotors had completely stopped. He heard one door open and shut, which told him Special Agent
Williams
had climbed out.

Grant heard Lloyd's voice in the headphones. "What's the plan?"

"Still working on it."
Grant felt butterflies in his stomach. He hesitated before finishing. "We'll have to let it play out, see what happens."

Grant saw Shauna lean forward from the rear seat. "What are you guys talking about?"

He felt guilty for keeping Shauna in the dark. "We're deciding what to do next."

"I thought the FBI wanted to talk to you about your theory," she said.

"I mean after that," said Grant. "We're thinking about going into
Mexico
." He turned and looked into her eyes. He wondered why he was telling her.

Her eyes grew noticeably. "I thought the FBI specifically denied that?"

"They did," Grant stated unemotionally.

The rotors of the helicopter had stopped. The three were enveloped in silence. Grant recognized Phil and a few other special agents from Hoover Dam talking to Special Agent Williams.

Shauna sat back in her seat before talking. "I see." There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Aren't you afraid of getting fired or something?"

Grant rested his head back on the seat again. "I should be." He knew Shauna probably thought he was crazy.

Her response shocked him. "I'm going with you."

He sat up and turned, facing her. "No. There's no reason to."

"I'm going, Grant. They can fire me too if they want. We're in this together, to the finish."

Grant wanted to argue and tell her she couldn't go, but they were interrupted when one of the agents opened Grant's door. "Can you guys come out here for a second? Phil wants to ask a few questions."

Grant nodded and removed his headset. Climbing out of the helicopter took more energy than it should have. He hoped Shauna wouldn't spill the beans. After they exited the helicopter, Grant walked toward the FBI agents.

Phil shook his hand. "I would have been better off if I'd told my agents to follow you around for the last two days. You seem to have a nose for the action."

Grant smiled. "It was logical that the water trouble would keep moving downstream. It's where I needed to be." He caught Shauna looking at him.

Phil looked around before continuing. "So tell me how you came up with this environmentalist theory."

Grant shook his head. "None of the other theories worked - the mad boater, the middle-eastern terrorists,
the
anti-recreationalists.
After
Glen
Canyon
, maybe, but not after the attempt at
Davis
.
They just didn't fit. But I knew there was a common denominator, ever since this morning at Davis Dam."

"I remember that. You were sure of yourself. So, what was the missing piece?" Phil prompted.

"The delta."
Grant remembered the feeling when he put it together. "I knew the
Colorado River
dried up before it reached the ocean. But I never thought about it. I knew it, but I never considered the ramifications." Grant looked around and realized he was rambling.

He continued. "Finally, this afternoon, I realized when they closed the
All
American
Canal
what the common denominator from all the bombings was. All the bombs were intended to send more water downstream. That's why it didn't matter whether the poison was real or not. We had to shut down the canal either way.
Mission
accomplished." He looked over at Shauna. "It was Shauna who reminded me what was downstream in
Mexico
. That delta is dried up.
Dead.
The river hasn't made it that far in years. All of a sudden I knew why the bomber wanted all the water to go downstream. It made perfect sense."