Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (65 page)

"It made perfect sense to blow up the Glen Canyon Dam to restore a dried-up river delta?" asked Phil sarcastically.

Grant locked eyes with the FBI agent. "It makes perfect sense if you're an environmentalist, if you've spent years demonstrating for Greenpeace, or the Sierra Club, or the Glen Canyon Institute. If you've fought to elect liberals like Clinton and Gore, but were forced to watch when even they gave the environment lip service, establishing a few monuments, but avoiding the real issues, the issues that might offend the farmers who receive subsidized river water, or the populations of Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Phoenix, who plant palm trees in an environment more suited for scorpions or rattlesnakes. If you had dedicated your whole life to restoring the
Colorado River
and one of the most amazing deltas in the world, but deep down you knew that nothing you'd done, or ever would do, would even matter."

When Grant looked up, he saw that everyone was staring at him, some with wide eyes. He felt his hand trembling.

Phil spoke softly. "Wow, Mr. Stevens. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were the bomber."

Grant glanced around. He saw that Lloyd was smiling broadly. Grant shook his head. "I'm not your bomber, Phil. I don't condone what was done, or the lives and property that were lost in the process. But I understand it. And actually, I'm surprised that nobody ever tried it before."

Phil looked down for an instant. "Relax. I bought it. We forwarded your theory to the Mexican authorities over an hour ago."

"And?" said Grant.

"And there's nothing else we can do. It's their problem now."

"Did they discuss their plans with you?"

Phil shook his head. "They said they would get back to us. We told them we would stay here, at the airport, at their disposal, if they need us."

Grant didn't like it. He knew the Mexicans would be in over their heads. "Can't our president do something? Make some calls--"

Phil shook his head. "We have no jurisdiction down there, Grant. It's their problem now."

Grant pointed toward
Mexico
. "But they don't know what to do. They have no idea how much water is headed their way."

"We told them," Phil said. "They are getting ready."

Grant wanted to argue further, but stopped himself. The silence felt awkward.

Phil broke the silence. "So we wait. Maybe they'll call.
If so, we'll be ready."

"I guess, if that's the only option," Grant mumbled. Grant felt the tugging again. He knew the water was already past the border. He couldn't hang around here much longer. If he was going to go, it needed to be now.

"And what about you, Mr. Stevens?" asked Phil. "Can you stay here with us? I'm convinced that you know how my bomber thinks
better
than anyone else. If the Mexicans need anyone, it's probably going to be you."

Grant looked at his watch, then over at Shauna and Lloyd. Shauna looked nervous and Lloyd looked perfectly calm, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He locked eyes with Phil. "Sorry, Phil, we need to head back north. All five dams are running beyond capacity. I need to monitor them over the next twenty-four hours." He hesitated to strengthen his lie. "But we can stay available, via cell phone." He held up the phone that the FBI had given him that morning. "We can be back in a flash if they need us."

Phil stared at him, making Grant wonder if he knew. The uncomfortable silence remained for a few moments before Phil finally nodded.

Grant reached out to shake again. "So, unless you guys have any other questions . . ."

"Good luck, Mr. Stevens," Phil said. "Your knowledge and instinct have been indispensable during this investigation."

Grant nodded. Too bad all his knowledge hadn't done any good. Grant turned and started walking toward the helicopter. His heart was racing, expecting any moment he might be tackled from behind. He resisted an urge to break and run. Finally, he reached the chopper and climbed quickly into his seat and put on his headphones. He stopped only then to exhale the air he'd been holding. Shauna and Lloyd climbed in after him. He heard Lloyd start the turbine and felt the rotors begin to turn.

He felt terrible for lying to Phil, not just because Phil represented the FBI and the investigation, but because he liked him. He was a good man. Phil would be furious when he found out Grant had
lied
to him. It wasn't the way Grant liked to leave things with people. Grant looked south over the trees toward
Mexico
. The environmentalist was down there. He could feel him. There was no choice. The FBI couldn't go, but he could. There was no other way.

When he looked back, he saw Phil talking to Special Agent Williams. Although Grant couldn't hear, he could tell that Phil was yelling to be heard over the helicopter. Then Grant saw something that made him feel sick. Phil yelled something at the special agent and pointed at the helicopter. She nodded and sprinted in a crouch toward them. Grant heard the door open quickly then shut. He felt the chopper move slightly when she climbed in. Lloyd looked over at him.

Grant waited until she had her headphones on. "What's up?"

"Phil thought I should hang with you guys, just in case."

"Just in case what?" Grant asked.

"Just in case you were wrong and something else happens upstream." She buckled her seat belt. She continued, "In case he's not in
Mexico
.
In case he blows up more stuff where you're going."

Grant felt sick. He wanted to argue but did not know what to say. Lloyd looked over at Grant again and Grant nodded to take off. The helicopter lifted and the agents on the ground waved to them. Grant returned the wave. Lloyd headed north, back toward Imperial Dam.

Agent Williams continued talking. "Phil says the action seems to follow
you, that
we need to cover that base too, just in case."

Grant let the silence linger for a moment. Ahead he could see the mountain range that housed Imperial Dam. He looked down and realized that half the valley below was flooded. Brown water flowed everywhere. Where a country road had been swallowed by the flood, he saw six or seven cars parked, their passengers standing at the edge of the water. Grant knew what they were feeling. Maybe it was their posture, or their mannerisms, but ultimately it added up to lack of hope.

As they approached the mountain range, Grant spoke into the headphones. "Put her down over there." He pointed to a spot around the edge of the hill where they wouldn't be visible to anyone watching from the
Yuma
airport.

"Why are we landing?" Agent Williams asked, sounding surprised.

Grant hesitated, then, "We need to drop you off, Agent Williams."

"What?"

"You can't go where we're going."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it," Grant said. This was turning out to be tougher than he expected.

"Wait a minute. You guys aren't thinking about flying into
Mexico
, to the delta?"

"Wherever we are going," Grant said, "you can't come with us."

He felt her hands on the back of his seat, pulling herself toward him. "You can't go either, Grant. Phil explicitly said that --"

"I'm well aware of what he said, Agent Williams, but we are going. That's why we have to drop you off. Phil left me no choice when he sent you with us."

"I can't let you," she stammered.

Grant turned and saw her punching numbers on her phone. For an instant, he wondered what to do, but then he saw Shauna do something completely out of character. She reached over and snatched the phone from the agent's hands.

The agent yelled into the headphones. "Hey you can't . . . Give me that back!"

Shauna tossed it in Grant's direction and it fell to the floor in the front seat. Grant wondered if both he and Shauna had crossed the line.

Lloyd set the helicopter down on a flat meadow above the riverbed. As soon as the landing gear touched, Grant jumped out, shut his door,
then
opened the agent's door directly behind his. "Get out," he said, yanking on her arm.

She glared at him. "No! I won't get out, and you can't make me."

He tossed her phone on the ground twenty feet away where she could see where it landed. He hoped she would go after it. She didn't move.

Still holding onto her arm, he felt the muscles. He was a desk jockey and she was a trained spy and assassin. He suddenly realized he couldn't make her do anything. He relaxed his grip on her. "Get out."

"No."

He had no idea what to do next. Maybe if all three of them tried, they could drag her out of her seat. But it didn't feel right. Besides, she had a gun. She could use it if she wanted to. Another idea finally occurred to him. "So, you're going with us?" he asked.

"Nobody's going into
Mexico
," she said.

He pointed a finger at her face and he felt his emotions burn. "We are definitely going into
Mexico
." He motioned at the river. "The guy who did all this is down there, waiting."

"It's not our problem," she said, without much conviction.

"It is our problem!" he yelled. "We're the only ones who know where he's going. Think of all the people this guy has killed and how much damage he's caused."

She pursed her lips. "Don't be so arrogant. You're not the only one that can catch him."

Grant took a step back from her. He motioned at the chopper. "We are going to
Mexico
, right now. If you don't get out, you are choosing to go with us. So Special Agent Williams, are you going or staying?"

She stared at him with anger in her eyes,
then
floored him. "I'm going."

His jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

Her eyes went down for a second before returning to his. "Phil told me to stay with you."

He looked down at her gun. He suddenly pictured her holding the gun to Lloyd's head to prevent them from leaving the country. "You're not going to use that on any of us, to make us turn around?"

She looked down at the weapon. "No."

"I don't trust you," he said.

She unsnapped it, spun it around, and handed it to him, butt first. "I trust you, Grant."

He felt uncomfortable holding her gun. He held it so the barrel pointed at the ground by his feet. "What about Phil? Your job?" he asked.

"What about yours?" she responded.

He didn't know what to say. "You're doing this willingly?"

She smiled. "No, you beat the crap outta me and made me come with you," she shrugged. "I'm supposed to stay with you guys, remember? That is my excuse. Besides, you need me." She pointed at the pilot. "He's the only one of you that's ever tried to sneak up on a bad guy, and that was a million beers ago."

Lloyd smiled, nodding his agreement.

Grant couldn't see another alternative. He couldn't make the agent get out. She'd kick his butt if he tried.
"All right then, but no funny stuff.
We have a job to do and we need to get going." He took a step backward, and motioned toward
Mexico
with his thumb. "Lloyd, let's go find our environmentalist."

He glanced at Agent Williams and she nodded. He closed her door.
Not that he didn't trust her,
but, he didn't trust her. He kept the gun and left the cell phone in the dirt. He climbed back in his seat and Lloyd took off. The helicopter headed east to minimize the chance they would be detected. After a while they turned south. They passed silently over the border from the
United States
into
Mexico
about twenty miles east of
Yuma
.

* * *

7:20 p.m. -
Mexico

As Grant looked down over the small shacks and lean-tos that housed most of
Mexico
's rural population, he felt privileged to live in the
United States
. He noticed that, just like in the southwest, down below in
Mexico
, any un-irrigated land had reverted to barren desert.

Like the Americans, the Mexicans diverted as much water from the
Colorado
as possible. Ditches and canals criss-crossed the entire landscape below. Grant was surprised to see so much irrigated farmland east of the river. It had been his understanding that the bulk of the Colorado River was shipped west from the Morales Dam toward
Tijuana
. He wondered what had become of the Morales Dam. He felt guilty for not trying to save it, as he had done for the American Dams. He hoped the Mexicans had gotten the message and had taken some sort of action. But if the American managers were any example, then he doubted the Mexicans would have the heart to destroy their own dam, even if that was the only way to save it. In the long run, it probably wasn't that important, since the Americans would end up bankrolling the reconstruction with foreign aid as penitence for allowing an American criminal to cause the damage.