by Gary Hansen
Roland turned and scanned the eyes of his men, then looked back at Grant, hesitating for a few moments. "Stevens, I'm going to let you keep working on the dike." He rubbed his temples again. "Things aren't as bad as they seemed when I first arrived. I'll tell the governor we are proceeding." He looked directly at Grant. "But make sure it doesn't fail. I don't have to tell you that the Bureau can't win in this deal. The publicity from GlenCanyon and the other dams downstream that we're going to lose is going to kill us."
Grant nodded.
The commissioner stood and walked toward the door, then stopped and turned. "Stevens, you should probably know that the Bureau could have done much worse than what you've done here."
"Thank you, Commissioner." Grant marveled that the conversation had gone so well.
* * *
5:30 a.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada
When Grant walked out of the conference room, Fred was waiting for him. He looked nervous. He immediately walked over and grabbed Grant's arm. "He blew up the California Aqueduct."
"What?"
"They called right after you guys went in the conference room. I've been waiting for you to come out. There's been another explosion. Somebody blew up the aqueduct."
Grant felt confused. "Where did this happen? Do we know if it's the same guy?"
"It happened about fifty miles west of LakeHavasu. Out in the desert. There's water all over the place out there."
Grant considered the repercussions. "How does this affect us? The dams downstream?"
Fred hesitated. "Well, they obviously had to shut the pumps off in Havasu. I'm not sure what you're getting at."
What did this have to do with the other bombings? He had the next piece of the puzzle, but he wasn't sure where or if it fit. "I'm not sure I know what I'm getting at either. I'm just trying to figure out why. What does this have to do with the other explosions?"
Fred didn't respond; he just looked puzzled.
Grant continued thinking out loud. "So what is the net result of shutting off the pumps?"
Fred shrugged. "I guess it's going to make the flood downstream a little worse. You know, since all the water that was in the aqueduct is now going to stay in Havasu."
Grant considered the idea, then looked back at Fred. "I wonder if that's it. After the bomb at Davis Dam, he must of figured we'd step up security on the other dams. Could this guy's motivation be to flood the hell out of the lower Colorado? I wonder who he hates down there?" Grant pulled the cell phone off his belt. "We need to call Phil. These are all questions for the FBI."
Phil picked up on the first ring. He sounded as if he were losing the war. He had already heard about the bombed aqueduct and had already dispatched a couple of agents to the site. However, they didn't have high expectations on collecting evidence. Police reports from the site reported that water had washed much of the hillside away, not to mention the small lake created in the surrounding area.
"What's next?" asked Grant.
"We need to get together again, talk some more," said Phil.
"I can't leave here," Grant responded. "The water from GlenCanyon is starting to arrive and Lake Mead water levels are rising by the minute. Things are going to get a little dicey."
"That's fine. The trail's cold here anyway. I'm coming to Hoover. You guys have been hearing stuff before us."
Grant hesitated for a second. "Look, I don't want to tell you guys how to do your job, but -"
Phil interrupted him. "No. Go ahead."
"Well, one thing we shouldn't wait to discuss is that our bad guy must have guessed we'd beef up the security around the dams. So that might be the reason he switched to the aqueduct. I think it's only reasonable --"
"I'm way ahead of you. There's another one farther down, isn't there? I agree; I can have the police tighten security there, too."
"There's more than one, Phil. There's a couple that go to Arizona, including the Central Arizona Project, CAP, and one that goes to the Indians. There's another huge one called the AllAmericanCanal that goes to Imperial Valley. That one even splits and sends a fork over to Palm Springs. And then there's the Gila, another big one, but it's in Mexico."
Phil didn't say anything.
Grant continued. "The bottom line is, these things stretch for hundreds of miles through the desert. The police aren't going to be able to guard 'em. The bombers probably waltzed right up to the last one. It's in the middle of nowhere."
"I see your point."
Grant continued. "Look, I still don't know this guy's motive, but he seems to be concentrating on the lower Colorado River. It's almost like he wants to damage something or somebody downstream. I think we need to get aggressive. Shut down all the roads in and out. String the National Guard along the aqueducts. You name it. Our targets cover a lot of space out there."
"That's going to be tough, Grant. They are still trying to evacuate many of those cities downstream. There are thousands of people on the roads. We can't impede the evacuations."
Grant rubbed his forehead. "I know, I know. But we have to try. Maybe you can randomly stop some of them. Who knows, we might get lucky at a roadblock somewhere. Isn't that how they caught the guy that blew up the Oklahoma Federal building?"
"We'll see what we can do, Grant."
"What about the dams and aqueducts in Mexico?" Grant asked.
Phil hesitated. "You know the FBI can't go into Mexico."
Actually, Grant didn't know. "But this is an emergency."
"Grant, the FBI cannot go into Mexico. We have no jurisdiction. Their government will have to handle it."
Grant hated politics, but saw no way around this one. "Well, have we talked to them yet? We need to at least give them a heads up."
"Not yet. I'll need to make some calls to the big wigs. It won't be my decision. In the meantime, I need some help with maps of all the aqueducts, something I can pass to local law enforcement."
Grant knew Phil wouldn't like the answer. "Phil, the Bureau doesn't handle the aqueducts. In fact, I'll bet every one is handled by a separate agency or municipality." He hesitated. "But I can give you a contact at the Bureau, somebody who should at least be able to help accumulate the info, or if nothing else, send you in the right direction."
"I appreciate it, Grant."
Grant gave Phil the number of a woman in the Denver office. Since it wasn't even 7:00 a.m. in Denver, he told Phil where she lived, so he could call information if necessary. He added her supervisor's info just in case.
When Grant hung up the phone, Fred stood nearby waiting. "Did he take your advice?"
"Yeah, kind of. I recommended some big stuff like the National Guard. But that's over his head. He'll need to bring in his superiors."
Fred smiled. "You want to go for a walk again?"
Grant stood, stretched, and tried to stop a yawn that wouldn't quit. "Sure, what's up?"
"The spillways are now full." Fred looked like a kid with his first bicycle. "You wanna go look at 'em again?"
Disaster or no disaster, Grant wanted to see them as much as Fred did.
"Let's go."
* * *
6:15 a.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada
With the sun having just risen above the horizon, a large group followed Grant and Fred out to the Nevada Spillway, including Governor Jenkins and Commissioner Blackwell and their entourages. A man and a woman with cameras and a separate guy with a video camera had materialized from nowhere and joined the caravan. Grant noticed that there were two helicopters hovering over the dam shooting pictures of the sandbag dike. Both of them, a white one and a blue one, had logos of news organizations stenciled on the sides.
When they reached the dike, Grant saw that a makeshift stairway had been built with sandbags, up one side and down the other, to facilitate the crossing. He wondered whose idea it had been. The large group meandered over the wall and through the parking lot toward the Nevada spillway. Grant noticed that the water had risen to within a few feet of the top of Hoover Dam, burying the fifty
foot white band of rock normally seen around the perimeter of Lake Mead. A few more feet and it would flood the parking lot where they stood.
As they walked closer, the rumbling noise increased until it vibrated the ground. When they reached the chain link fence surrounding the spillway, Grant saw the water now higher than the fifty-foot-diameter spillway tunnel. The water level was slightly lower near the tunnel itself, dropping a few feet, as the spillway was taking the water faster than it flowed down the channel toward it.
The volume of water movement was intimidating. Commissioner Blackwell was holding the fence so tight that his knuckles were white, one foot next to the fence and one noticeably behind, in case a quick exit became warranted. He looked shaken, as if he had just seen a ghost.
Governor Jenkins smiled and talked to someone near him, but his high eyebrows showed that he too wasn't completely comfortable.
"You're finally looking at 200,000 cubic feet per second," yelled Fred from a cupped hand. "More than Niagara Falls."
Grant only nodded, gripping the fence tightly himself.
"These spillways have waited almost seventy years to show their stuff." Fred's voice faltered with emotion, and his eyes looked misty.
An incredibly loud screeching noise made the whole group jump and then cover their ears. A large whirlpool had formed above the spillway tunnel and the noise continued for several seconds before it and the whirlpool both disappeared.
After the group regained its composure, the photographers moved everyone away from the governor, then took some pictures of the governor with the spillway behind. The guy with the video camera unfolded a tripod and another person held up a poster-sized card. The governor buttoned his coat and checked his tie. A small microphone was clipped on the governor's lapel. Grant figured that the governor was going to make a statement.
Sighting the large group, and sensing something was up, the two news helicopters moved from the crest of the dam over near the spillway. Both had tethered cameramen hanging out open doors. They jockeyed for position in the small space.
With wind blowing his hair and the loud rumbling, the governor began. "It's just after 6:00 a.m. at Hoover Dam. As we speak, Lake Mead rises at a staggering rate as it combines with the water from the Glen Canyon Dam and LakePowell. Since the tragedy upstream yesterday, the water has traveled over three hundred miles, having passed through the Grand Canyon." The governor motioned to his side. "Behind me is the Nevada spillway."
The governor hesitated as some wind buffeted him. The noise had also increased, not from the water, but from the helicopters. Grant felt a brief wet spray and looked up. Both helicopters had come in much closer, too close. He couldn't believe they dared fly so close together. Their rotors seemed only a few feet apart.
"Get them out of here," the governor yelled, waving his arms.
Most of the group reacted and waved frantically at the choppers. Both aircraft hesitated, as if waiting for the other to move first, but then gradually moved a short distance away.
The governor brushed at his hair, then quickly regained his composure. "Behind me is the Nevada Spillway. It is mirrored by its counterpart over on the Arizona side. As a tribute to the many thousands of dedicated men who risked their lives in the construction of this dam, these spillways are now running at full capacity for the first time ever. Only in the spring floods of 1983 have these spillways ever been needed, and then at only a small fraction of what you see now. I'm told the current flow is approximately 200,000 cubic feet per second, each." He emphasized the last word with a smile. "Together, they are passing almost forty times the normal flow of the Colorado River."
"Over the next few hours, these two spillways will likely save Hoover Dam, the first great dam in the world. They will allow us to move the floodwater downstream in a controlled manner."
Grant wondered how the governor could consider forty times normal flow a controlled manner.
The governor continued. "I regret that you cannot all come here yourselves and see this amazing spectacle. Unfortunately, the situation precludes that possibility."
"As your governor, I would like to personally thank all of you who heeded last night's call for volunteers to fill sandbags. Without you, our efforts to save Hoover Dam would surely have been in vain."
The governor's face became very serious. "The next few hours at Hoover Dam will be critical. The water will shortly rise above the original structure and will test the integrity of our sandbag extension. As your governor, I commit to make every attempt to keep you informed. May God be with us." He remained still for a moment, then drew his finger across his throat.
Many in the crowd clapped, Grant among them. Another whirlpool formed and repeated the loud screeching noise, but this time the group knew what to expect, and as quickly as it formed, it disappeared.
Roland worked his way over to Grant. "Pretty amazing, isn't it?"
Grant nodded. "Incredible."
"What'd you think of the governor's speech?"
"Pretty good, in spite of the helicopters."
The commissioner looked back out over the spillway. "About this morning." He looked back at Grant. "I was caught off guard."
Grant knew Roland was struggling, but still didn't want to let him off the hook. He let it drag out for a while, and then smiled at him. "You should be sorry."
Roland smiled back. "Don't get cocky, Stevens. Only time will tell if your little sandbag dam will hold."
But Grant knew that if the dam extension held, as he expected it would, he would have saved all of their butts. And he figured Roland knew that too.
* * *
6:20 a.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona
David felt Judy stretch. Although he was not asleep and in fact had not slept all night, he kept his eyelids closed and chose not to stir.
Judy sat up and then jerked savagely. "Oh my . . ."
"What's the matter?" Afram asked.
David and Afram sat upright to see what Judy had reacted to. David gasped and pulled himself away from the edge. The sun was just beginning to rise up in the top of the canyon, providing barely enough light to see below. During the night, the floodwater had receded dramatically, dropping hundreds of feet. They were now stranded on a ledge with no way to go either up or down.
David looked below and saw all the places where they had climbed the night before as the water pushed them higher and higher on the canyon wall. He couldn't help but scan downstream to see if his friends had somehow landed before reaching the narrows. He saw no raft or sign of them.
"Now what?" Afram asked.
Judy craned her head upward. "We might be able to -"
"We're not going anywhere," David said. "We're staying right here."
Judy pointed above. "If we could just make it up to that ridge, we might be able to traverse -"
"Judy, if we fall, we'll be dead. We're almost three hundred feet in the air."
She looked ready to argue. "Then how are we going to get out of here?"
Afram pointed down at the river. "There will be search teams looking for survivors. They'll find us. We'll just have to wait."
David nodded in agreement.
"What if they don't?" she asked.
"They have to," David answered. "Because we can't get down."
CHAPTER 30
7:00 a.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada
At 7:00 on the dot, Phillip Sutherland and a dozen other FBI agents arrived in the Hoover Dam visitor center. The agents quickly claimed a small room as their own, setting up a folding table and chairs. It seemed like every time Grant saw Phil, different agents accompanied him. He wondered briefly where they had sent Special Agent Williams, who had inspected the bomb the night before at Davis. She was probably out looking for evidence on the California Aqueduct bombing.
Phil looked the way Grant felt. His eyes had rings under them and lacked the sparkle of when they'd first met. His hair looked oily and uncombed. His tie hung loosely around an unfastened top button. He slouched over the tabl
e and held onto the coffee mug as if it alone were holding him up.
Grant felt tired too. His lack of sleep was wearing on him. At least the Advil had dulled the aches and pains from Davis Dam.
Phil motioned at a seat with his coffee mug.
Grant sat, and his body thanked him. Two of the other agents, previously standing, sat at Phil's sides.
Phil spoke mostly to his agents. "Okay, as Mr. Stevens put it, we just got the third piece of our puzzle. So how does blowing the aqueduct fit in with the bombs at GlenCanyon and Davis Dams? What are these guys trying to accomplish and why?"
Although spoken to the agents, Grant knew the question was meant for him, even though he didn't have the answer they wanted. "Well, before, when it was just dams, you thought it might be aimed at boaters or vacationers. The aqueduct definitely doesn't fit in that scenario. The only thing we came up with is that one of the main results of all three bombings is more water is channeled downstream. It's like they want to flood somebody or someplace downstream." He looked up at them. "I know it's kinda flimsy."
"Can't that still be interpreted as going after boaters? What about the boaters downstream?"
Grant shook his head. "The vast percentage of recreation takes place in the big lakes: Powell, Mead, Mojave, and Havasu. There's not nearly as much recreation south of there."
"What's down there, then?" Phil's voice showed frustration.
"Not much; there's only a couple of hick towns and an Indian reservation before you get to Yuma, Arizona."
"Farmers?" Phil asked.
Grant nodded. "Yeah. The Indians farm a little. One of the small dams diverts irrigation water to them. But overall, the land's pretty barren."
"What about Yuma?"
"Yuma's small, less than a hundred thousand people. There's some farming around Yuma though. Why? Do you think they might be after the farmers?" Grant hadn't considered that.
"No, I'm just thinking out loud. Why else would they want to flood Yuma? What about Mexico?"