Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River

by Gary Hansen

  He answered, "Hello?"

  "Mr. Stevens?" the voice asked. It was a woman's voice that Grant didn't recognize.

  "Yeah. I'm Grant Stevens."

  The person on the other end sounded nervous. "You guys better get back here. There's been another bomb."

  Grant dropped his knife on the plate. Fred looked up and stopped chewing.

  "At Hoover?" Grant asked.

  "No, Mr. Stevens. Downstream at LakeMojave. Davis Dam."

  The information made no sense. Grant stood. "We'll get back as fast as we can."

  Grant hung up the phone and looked over at Fred. "They blew up Davis Dam." Grant waited for Fred to stand, then turned to leave before remembering the check, which the waitress hadn't left on the table yet.

  Fred, one step ahead of him, pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled a twenty out and tossed it on the table, more than enough to cover the casino steaks.

  At the last minute while standing and ready to go, Grant looked back at the steak and felt a huge regret, finally noticing how hungry he was. He reached down and cut a large slice and stuffed it in his mouth. Fred nodded and grabbed the rolls out of the basket in the middle of the table.

  "Back to Hoover?" Fred asked, more a statement than a question.

  Grant nodded.

  CHAPTER 25

  10:20 p.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada

  As soon as Grant and Fred walked back into the Hoover Dam visitor center, they tracked down the person who had taken the call from Davis Dam. The call had been taken by one of Fred's technicians. The woman explained that the guy at Davis was a security guard named Blaine. Grant dialed the number, and Blaine picked right up.

  "Davis Dam. Blaine."

  "This is Grant Stevens from the Bureau of Reclamation. I'm calling from Hoover Dam. What happened there, Blaine?"

  "He blew the place up. Up on the dike. There's a big hole in it now."

  He? The reference threw Grant for a loop, making him abandon his previous questions. "Who, Blaine? You said 'he' blew it up?"

  Blaine's answer came back as if everyone should know. "The guy from the Bureau. He was just up there drilling holes in the spot where it exploded. He's the one that must've done it."

  Grant was confused. "Bureau guy?"

  "Yeah. He drove up here in a Bureau truck, logo and everything. Said he needed to take moisture tests and that he would be drilling into the dam."

  Grant wanted to ask a million more questions about the perpetrator, now possibly an insider, but forced himself to focus on the damage. "Blaine, I'll come back to him later. What about the dam? You said something about a big hole. How bad is it?" He was afraid of the answer.

  "It's big. About thirty feet deep and forty feet wide."

  Grant concluded that the amount of water already flowing through must be incredible. "How fast is it washing out, Blaine?"

  There was silence. "Whaddya mean?"

  Grant explained. "Water. How much water is going through the hole and how fast is it growing?"

  There was a moment of hesitation from the guard. "None. There ain't no water coming out yet, just a big notch in the dam. Hell, you think I'd be standin' here answerin' the phones if the dam was falling apart?"

  This confused Grant. How could there not be any water? At the same time, he felt like he had just won the lottery. They might still be able to save Davis, something he hadn't even dared to consider since he first received the news of the explosion. "I'm confused, Blaine. You said there's an opening in the dam thirty feet deep, yet there's no water. That doesn't make sense. How could the water not be pouring out? The dam's almost full, isn't it?"

  "I don't know Mr. . . . What'd you say your name was?"

  "Stevens. Grant Stevens." Grant could sense the guy's excitement and forgave him for not remembering his name. "Blaine, has anyone gone up there and inspected it yet?"

  "They're up there right now, Mr. Stevens."

  "Can you connect me with one of them?"

  * * *

  10:30 p.m. - Davis Dam, Nevada

  Billy Watkins walked up to the edge of the crater on top of Davis Dam. His nostrils flared at the smell of something he didn't recognize. It reminded him of the air after a thunderstorm, only this air didn't smell as clean. It had the same charged quality, but it was mixed with dust and a chemical smell, some of which still floated in the air. Billy stood tall and lanky in his security uniform. He had ratty, unkempt blond hair that wandered out from under his security hat, and he sported a thin mustache. Billy tried to make up for the thinness by letting it grow longer, but this only resulted in the hairs tending to mat together and highlight rather than cover up the thinness.

  He peered down into the hole, bracing himself, not knowing how stable the bank might be. He jumped when his cell phone rang. He saw the others, Dennis the night shift technician and the two day-shift techs, glance over at his ringing phone. He picked it up. "Hello?"

  The man introduced himself as a Grant Stevens from the Bureau of Reclamation. He said he was calling from Hoover and that Blaine had given him Billy's cell phone number.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Stevens?"

  "Blaine told me that you are inspecting the dam. What can you tell me about the damage?"

  Billy looked around, noticing that the crater was concentrated on the dry side of the dam. The notch didn't go all the way through to the wet side, which would have been a disaster. "We just got up here," he said. He described, as best he could, the huge crater and how it didn't reach to the wet side of the dam. While he explained the situation to the guy on the phone, he saw Dennis run over and pick up something. Dennis waved to him, motioning him over to look at what he had just found.

  "Hang on, Mr. Stevens. Looks like Dennis found something." Still clutching the phone to his ear, he skirted the perimeter of the crater over to where the notch would have extended to the wet side. Dennis held the ends of two green wires that stuck out of the ground. Billy relayed the find to Grant.

  "So one of his bombs didn't detonate?" Billy heard Grant ask into the phone, a conclusion Billy had reached independently.

  "Yeah, I'd say that's what happened," he responded.

  "Is the dam stable? Does it need to be reinforced?" Grant asked.

  Billy looked around. He was just a security guard. How was he supposed to know? He brought the phone down and asked Dennis, "Hey, this guy wants to know if the dam needs shoring up. He's wondering if it might be weak enough to fail as the water rises."

  Dennis shrugged, looking down at the water. "Gee, I don't know. Then again, it wouldn't hurt anything to shore it up, would it?"

  Billy relayed the message to Grant. "Mr. Stevens, none of us are qualified to make that decision, but why not shore it up?"

  Grant responded immediately. "You're right, Billy. Let's do it. I'm coming down there. I'll be in touch." He gave Billy his cell phone number in case anything changed and hung up.

  Billy looked back at the crater, and imagined for a moment what might have happened if the bomb had worked as planned. He looked down at the dry riverbed below the gravel dike holding back LakeMojave. He tried to picture the potential destruction. He glanced downstream toward Laughlin. He knew the water would wipe out all of the buildings within his view. They had been lucky, very lucky.

  * * *

  10:45 p.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada

  Grant hung up the phone. Fred sat looking at him, having patiently listened to Grant's side of the phone conversation.

  "So you're gonna go down there?" Fred asked.

  "Yeah. We need to shore it up. We can't have it breaking when the water rises."

  Fred pointed at him. "But what can you do?"

  "That's where I need your help. Since Davis Dam is managed from here, where do you guys get the construction equipment, operators, and gravel?"

  Fred sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Grant, that dam's old. I don't remember anybody messing with the dike for years. The biggest projects have probably been moving gravel aroun
d in the parking lot."

  "Fine. Who'd you use to do the parking lot?"

  Fred held out his hands. "Like I said, I don't know; probably some private company."

  "All right, call the biggest construction company in Laughlin. Track 'em down and get 'em out of bed. Call the cops if you need to. Let's get them to the dam site as fast as possible. If you're not sure if there's any fill material available at the site, then tell 'em to bring some in dump trucks." Grant wondered if he'd missed anything. "Oh, and I need you to find a helicopter to fly me down there."

  Fred took a moment and wrote down a few notes. "I know someone with a helicopter who can fly you down. When do you want to leave?"

  Grant looked at his watch. "Immediately." Then he had another thought. "Wait, make that ten minutes. I have another phone call I need to make."

  Fred hurried away, and Grant dialed the number from a note in his pocket. When the man answered, Grant spoke into the phone. "Hello, I'm trying to find Phil, of the FBI."

  The special agent responded immediately. "Yes. This is Phil. Who's speaking, please?"

  "Grant Stevens from the Bureau. I met you at the Glen Canyon Dam."

  "Grant Stevens. Long time no talk. It has been a long day, hasn't it? How are things at Hoover, anyway? Did you think of something for my investigation?" The lifeless tone in Phil's voice told Grant that he hadn't rested either since it began.

  "Let me guess - you guys haven't caught the bad guys yet, have you?"

  "No, but we are working on a few leads." The agent didn't sound nearly as confident as his words.

  "Well, I have another lead for you. They struck again at Davis Dam. Maybe twenty minutes ago."

  The agent came to life, almost shouting in the phone. "How do you know it was him?"

  Grant hadn't even considered it might be unrelated. "I don't. I just assumed."

  Phil interrupted. "Where is Davis Dam anyway? How bad is this one?"

  Grant was surprised Phil didn't know where Davis was. He was from California. "Davis Dam holds back LakeMojave. It's just downstream of Hoover Dam. You know - Laughlin, Nevada."

  "How bad is it?" Phil asked again.

  "As far as the damage goes, we got lucky. They found two wires sticking out of the ground, next to the main crater. Looks like at least one of the bombs didn't detonate. If it had, we'd have another dam gone, another big flood."

  The phone went silent for a moment. Grant guessed that Phil took a second to process the information. "Grant, where are you going to be? I'd like my men to look over the un-detonated bomb, before it gets disturbed."

  "A helicopter's flying me down to Davis Dam in a few minutes. We're trying to arrange for some construction guys with some front loaders and bulldozers. We need to shore it up, before it really does fail. I haven't seen the site yet, so I can't promise that we'll be able to do our stuff without disturbing it."

  Phil sounded desperate. "Look, I just need a few minutes with it. How soon are your guys going to be ready?"

  Grant knew he couldn't risk it. "Phil, we're just trying to round up the machinery as we speak. It'll probably be an hour before anything happens. But, I can't hold 'em. If you want to see it, then get one of your men out of Vegas and helicopter him down there now. The risk is too great if I wait." Grant was amazed at the way he was bossing around the FBI.

  "Okay, that's fair. I'll try to get a special agent out of Vegas, pronto." Phil took a second, then continued. "Oh, and Grant, thanks for the call. I think I'll leave a few agents here and move the investigation your way, where the trail's still warm. Are you going to be at Davis for long?"

  "No. I'll only be there for a couple of hours, until I feel the dam's safe. Then I'm coming back here. We've got a lot of water heading our way, and I'm setting up a science experiment to see if we can contain it."

  "All right Grant, we'll see you soon."

  Grant heard the connection drop.

  Fred was waiting. "The helicopter's on it's way here. Are you ready?"

  Grant looked around and considered the question. "Ready as I'll ever be."

  CHAPTER 26

  11:15 p.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada

  Grant felt his stomach turn as the helicopter lifted. It wasn't that he was overly susceptible to motion sickness. But he felt strange just the same. It had been a long time since he'd flown in a helicopter, maybe ten years, and never in a work capacity for the Bureau of Reclamation.

  As they gained altitude, the left seat offered a great view of Hoover Dam and the frantic construction project underway. He could see that progress on the sandbag dike continued unabated. The top of the dam was a beehive of activity. If nothing went wrong, it should be completed in time. Again, he had to fight the image of Hoover-Two not being high enough, the floodwater spilling over the top, washing away the sandbags. But he did feel it would be high enough. They'd done the math multiple times. Nevertheless, the image kept coming, tormenting his thoughts.

  The helicopter banked and the view of Hoover Dam rotated behind him, lost from sight. Up ahead, the clear night and partial moon allowed a haunting view into the dark chasm below of BlackCanyon. Occasional sparkles of light reflected off the Colorado River deep down in the canyon and showed the path carved by the river millions of years before. Eventually, as they passed the canyons and surrounding hills, the landscape opened up and began to flatten out. From here to the Gulf of California was all flat desert. Up ahead, far in the distance, Grant could make out a grouping of lights. He and the pilot both wore a set of headphones with a microphone extending from the left side. Grant shouted into his headset microphone, "Is that Laughlin?" He could hear his loud voice in the headphones at the same time.

  The pilot, who had not yet spoken, responded, "Yeah, the first set of lights are from North Laughlin. The lights behind are from South Laughlin and Bullhead City, Arizona, which is below the dam; those casinos are on the banks of the Colorado River."

  Grant quickly determined that if the Davis Dam broke, he would not want to be staying in South Laughlin.

  The pilot and helicopter had come from one of the many Las Vegas tour companies, which were available for charter twenty-four hours a day. They flew Las Vegas visitors to a multitude of places including the Vegas skyline, Hoover Dam, Laughlin, and even the Grand Canyon. Fred said they were extremely flexible and would fly you almost anywhere you would pay them to go. For a little extra, negotiated by Fred, they had agreed to pick Grant up at Hoover and drop him right in the parking lot at Davis Dam.

  Although it was too dark to tell, Grant wondered how much flooding would be occurring right now in the upper reaches of LakeMojave. With all the gates and spillways open at Hoover, the flow down the Colorado into LakeMojave dwarfed anything in the history of the lake.

  For a moment Grant's thoughts wandered randomly, not dwelling on any one subject. Then he thought about the perpetrators of the two bombings, something he had been too busy to think much about. The bomb at Glen Canyon Dam this morning had been easy enough to explain. The dam had been considered a foreign terrorist target for years by the federal government due to its massive size and social prominence. Additionally, the environmentalists hated it passionately, mostly due to GlenCanyon being buried under LakePowell. Others claimed the Glen Canyon Dam was not financially feasible, and accused the Bureau of cooking the books to get it approved in the first place.

  But why Davis Dam? Most people had never even heard of it, including FBI Phil who was from Southern California. It certainly didn't seem prominent enough to attract foreign terrorists. Why then would they want to blow up something no one had ever heard of? And as far as he knew, LakeMojave didn't bury any environmental treasures like LakePowell did.

  He wondered briefly about whether they would blow Davis to kill someone downstream in Laughlin, but if that were the case, why Glen Canyon earlier that morning? Theoretically, it was possible that the casino owners in Las Vegas would want to destroy the casinos in Laughlin to reduce competition, but the idea seemed far-fetched.
In his estimation, blowing up the Glen Canyon Dam would be much more difficult than Davis, even though the attempt at Davis hadn't been successful. No, Davis had to be part of a bigger overall plan. And if so, what could be their primary goal? If Grant were a terrorist, and had succeeded in taking out the Glen Canyon Dam, he would have celebrated and retired. GlenCanyon was the mother-lode of controversial dams. What more could they want?

  Grant concluded that he did not have all the pieces to the puzzle, which simultaneously convinced him that more puzzle pieces would be forthcoming. In other words, more dams would be blown. He was now certain of it. They were now dealing with a serial bomber. A heightened level of anxiety settled over him. This wasn't over yet. Where would the next strike occur? He hoped that Phil and his FBI team arrived at Davis soon. They needed to talk. In fact, they needed to do more than investigate. They needed to beef up the security at more potential targets. If only he knew what those targets were.

  The pilot pulled Grant out of his thoughts. "You can see the dam right up there."

  Normally a statement like that was accompanied by a pointed finger or motion of the hand, but the pilot's hands were busy on the controls. Grant couldn't miss the dam a couple of miles away, completely lit up with strong lights, just as Hoover was.

  * * *

  11:50 p.m. - Davis Dam, Nevada

  The construction guy stood waiting for Grant when the helicopter landed. Blaine, the security man, stood next to him. The construction guy introduced himself as Reese Burke and drove a four-door, four-wheel-drive pickup that looked remarkably like the one driven by the demolition guy at Hoover earlier in the day. Reese had a gut that wouldn't quit, making it impossible to tuck in the front of his shirt, and his pants hung very low, making Grant wonder how they stayed up at all. Grant made a mental note to look away if Reese bent over.

  The construction man Reese accused the Laughlin cops of scaring him to death, waking him by banging on his front door. It had taken him another twenty minutes to gather his senses, decide what to do, and raise enough men to get things moving. Five dump trucks were loaded and en route, as well as two bulldozers and a front loader. The five trucks were expected any minute.