by Gary Hansen
Grant laughed briefly. "The Mexicans would love to be flooded."
Phil didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. "Why? What do you mean?"
The thought sunk in and Grant wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. "The Mexicans don't get hardly any of the Colorado River, and what little they do get, they pipe over toward Tijuana in a big canal. The whole area south of Mexicali is barren."
"What do you mean, what little they get?" Phil asked. "The river's huge."
"Not by the time it gets to Mexico. We take most of it. The GreatAmericanCanal diverts most of it before the Colorado gets there."
Phil wiped at both of his eyes. "Most of the river? How can they do that? Isn't it regulated?"
"Every drop," explained Grant. "We have a treaty with Mexico that stipulates they get at least 1.5 million acre feet per year. But, that's not all - by the time the Colorado River gets to Mexico, the salinity is so high that the water's not drinkable and will kill most crops."
Phil looked surprised by this. "And they put up with this?"
Grant shrugged. "Oh, they've been complaining for years. Finally, the U.S. had to guarantee the purity of the water at certain levels, and one of Imperial Dam's main purposes at the border is to desalinate it before it gets to Mexico."
"Isn't that expensive?" asked Phil.
"It's the biggest reverse osmosis desalination plant in the world. I think I heard that the U.S. spent over a hundred and fifty million dollars to build it, not counting yearly operating expenses."
"So Mexico is still not happy with their allotments from the Colorado River?"
"I don't think happy would be the right word. They know they're at the end of the line. I'm sure they'd like to have a lot more. But they're probably happy that what they do get is guaranteed, both in quantity and quality. At least that's something."
"So could this be some pissed-off Mexicans? Could they be our bombers?" Phil didn't sound very convinced.
"I don't think so. Remember that both of our bombers were white, and had credentials," Grant pointed out.
"What about an American group that's sympathetic to the Mexicans?"
Grant shook his head. "I can't imagine a group of Americans being sympathetic enough to blow the Glen Canyon Dam for Mexico."
Phil stood abruptly. "Then what have we got?" He walked around his chair, and leaned on it from behind. "Motive?" He let the word hang in the air. "What's the motive here? Do we have any idea? How about objective? We don't even know that." He paced over to the wall and stared at it for a second, finally returning. "GlenCanyon, then Davis, then the aqueduct. What's next? Can we at least figure that out?"
Grant shrugged. "Well, we don't know for sure. But like I said this morning, all the other aqueducts and dams downstream have to be considered targets."
Phil motioned his hand at Grant. "I forwarded your National Guard idea, but I haven't heard back yet. However, my superiors liked it. The FBI is trying to set up a conference call with Mexico this morning to fill them in on what's going on. Hopefully it's not the Mexican government behind this, or we'll be feeding information to the perpetrators."
Grant didn't believe Mexico was behind this, and he didn't think Phil did either.
"What about boat accident data?" Grant asked. "You were going to try to find out how many people had been hurt in boating accidents on the lakes."
Phil scratched his head. "There were thousands of accidents on the two lakes, plus a ton more where car accidents involved trailered boats. It's going to take a long time for my people to filter the lists. Anyway, now that he's blown the aqueduct, I'm not sure this guy is after boaters."
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but you asked for updates." He waited for objections before proceeding. "The employee parking lot is underwater and the level will be higher than the original concrete dam in a few minutes."
Grant smiled at Fred and nodded. "Thanks, Fred. I'll be out in a while."
Fred withdrew and shut the door. There was no doubt that Fred was restless, but Grant thought it was more than that. In addition to the fear and anticipation, Grant sensed that Fred was just plain excited, glad to be there, to be a part of it. His face had shown it at the spillways, just like his voice now. The funny thing was, to a lesser extent, Grant felt the same way.
Phil took a long swig on his coffee mug. "If you need to go, don't let me stop you. But if you have a minute, I need more info from you dam guys." He smiled. "No pun intended, of course."
Grant nodded.
"I need to know what's going to happen today. Where's all this water going to end up? When will it hit? Damage estimates, etc." He pointed casually at Grant. "Are you going to hang around here all day, at Hoover? If not, where are you going to be?"
Grant considered the question. "I have an assistant here with me from Denver. She has put together a timeline of what's going to happen downstream. It shows our estimates for when the water will reach each dam, all the way to Mexico and the Gulf of California. I'll get you a copy. As far as damage is concerned, if Hoover holds, we don't expect to lose any of the three major dams. But with Hoover's spillways at capacity, we're going to have just under 500,000 cubic feet per second going downstream."
Phil looked confused so Grant clarified. "That's almost fifty times normal for the lower Colorado River, basically twice the flow of Niagara Falls. Anything next to the river is going to be flooded, badly. Laughlin will be a total loss."
Phil frowned. "You said you don't expect to lose any major dams. What does that mean? Does that mean some small ones are going to fail?"
Grant nodded. "By far, the two biggest are Davis and Parker, which hold back LakeMojave and Havasu. Both of those have spillways that, theoretically, should be able to keep up with Hoover. Downstream are two small dams, Head Gate Rock and Palo Verde, which have comparatively little storage. Their primary purpose is to divert water for irrigation. As a worst case, we expect both of these dams to fail. However, neither should substantially affect floods downstream. The one we're worried about is the Imperial Dam, just north of Yuma, Arizona. It'll definitely be breached and we'd like to figure out a way to minimize the damage. As I explained before, Yuma is where the United States desalinates the water going to Mexico. So we want to protect the desalination plant."
"Approximately how many hours will the flood last? How soon will you be able to get people in to access the damage and make repairs?"
Grant stared at Phil. "It's not hours, Phil, it's months. It'll be almost two months before Hoover drops below the spillways. If we're lucky, the people can move back in and start sifting through their stuff by September 1st."
Phil's jaw dropped and he walked over and sat down. "Two months of Niagara Falls?"
"Two months of Niagara Falls times two," Grant corrected.
"I had no idea." Phil looked around, then back at Grant. "What about Mexico? What's going to happen there?"
"Well, before it gets to Mexico, there's the Laguna Dam. It's less than ten feet high. It won't even slow the water down. The dam in Mexicali, Mexico is called the Morales Dam. Its primary purpose is to divert the water into the Gila canal. It's not very big, and if the water destroys it, maybe the United States can help them rebuild it."
"What about downstream from Morales? Any more dams?"
Grant shrugged. "No, that's it."
"And your girl's list shows timelines for all these dams?"
"Yeah, she did a good job. She wrote a crude model for the whole thing. It lists estimated times for each reservoir to fill, and water travel times between dams."
Phil stood. "All right, we have a lot of phone calls to make. Hopefully we'll get some National Guard personnel to help us."
Grant got the distinct impression that the interview was over. He walked toward the door of the small conference room. "I'll send Shauna up with your info." He heard Phil respond that he appreciated it as he walked out the door.
* * *
7:20 a.m. - Riverside, California
The skinny man took the exit. The truck needed gas. After blowing up the aqueduct, he had continued west and skirted the south side of Joshua Tree National Park, then joined I-10, which passed by Palm Springs and all the windmills. The exit put him in Riverside, California.
Back when he planned this day, he wanted to follow the Colorado River south, but he knew the cops would be looking for him. There would be road checks and detours, and staying near the river would be too risky. It would be bad enough to get caught, but especially out on the open highway traveling between targets. Ultimately, he had decided he had plenty of time. The long detour through Southern California would almost guarantee he would go unnoticed.
After starting the gas pump, he fished through his glove box and found the address of his next destination. A map had been printed from his computer. Days before, after calling numerous persons advertising on recycler.com, an online classified advertising company in Southern California, the skinny man had found the vehicle he was looking for. A deal had been made. Now all he needed to do was show up on the guy's doorstep before noon. The seller was expecting him.
When the tank was full, he looked at his watch. He saw a few fast food restaurants just down the street and decided he had time for breakfast.
* * *
7:30 a.m. - Hoover Dam, Nevada
Grant and Fred had climbed to the top of phase one of Hoover-Two. They walked carefully along the sandbags. Where they walked, it was only ten feet wide. Looking north over the lake, the employee parking lot was gone, covered with water. A slight breeze blew down BlackCanyon, rippling the surface, but the breeze was not refreshing, as the air temperature crept toward 100 degrees, even early in the morning.
For the last hour or so, the construction of the dike had transitioned from phase one to phase two. The ten-foot-high dike was finished and stretched from the cliffs on the Arizona side to the cliffs on the Nevada side. Phase two called for widening the dike from half the width of the dam to the full width, and building it up to a full height of twenty feet. The transition meant that trucks would no longer be able to drive across the dam and turn around, but would need to back up to unload sand bags. Phase two was gradually being built from the Arizona side toward the Nevada side.
Over the noise of the trucks and men, one could still hear the rumbling sound of the two spillways. By referencing off the concrete handrails on the top of the dam, Grant could approximate that the water level had risen about two feet above the concrete, meaning that two feet of water would be flowing over the top of Hoover if the sand bag dike wasn't there. So far, the dike was doing what it was supposed to do, a very satisfying feeling.
Fred seemed to read his mind. "This place would look a little different with a small waterfall stretching all the way across the dam, wouldn't it?"
Grant laughed. "I wouldn't mind a small one; it's a fifteen or twenty footer that I don't want to see."
Grant turned to Shauna who had just joined them on the dike. "How are we doing on water levels?"
She adjusted her glasses. "The rate at which the water is rising has started to slow slightly, even though the floods entering the lake are still peaking. That's mostly due to increased flood area of the landscape upstream as the water rises."
Fred laughed out loud. "In English?"
Shauna looked uncomfortable. "What that means, Mr. Grainger, is that the higher Lake Mead rises, the more it spreads out. It therefore takes much more water to make it rise. Basically, the surface area of the lake is growing faster than the flood, therefore the rate the water is rising in the lake is decreasing."
Fred, still laughing, struggled to talk. "I thought I understood, Miss Kingsly. I just wanted to see if you could say it in simpler terms."
Grant and Fred both laughed again.
Shauna smiled in spite of being the object of their joke. Grant didn't want to upset her, even if she did have a vocabulary problem. She had been invaluable on this trip, and her estimates had been near perfect.
"Are the levels still within our projections?" Grant asked.
She nodded. "Yes. In fact, I've reduced my projection for maximum depth from Hoover plus thirteen to Hoover plus twelve and a half."
"That's great. I'll take all the 'halves' you can give me," said Grant. "By the way, did you get that table of downstream stuff to the FBI guys?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Thanks." Grant considered the information. "What about time? Have you changed when you expect Hoover to peak?"
"No. I monitored the reports of peak flood stages as they moved through the Grand Canyon last night, and I actually expect peak flows to be entering the other end of Lake Mead within the hour, then decreasing gradually. However, flow into the lake will remain greater than 500,000 cubic feet per second until late this evening, approximately 9:00 p.m. After that, the lake should start to drop very slowly."
Grant remembered something that had crossed his mind while talking to the FBI. "Were you able to get a hold of anybody at the three small dams downstream yet?" He worried about them, because they were not under direct control of the Bureau of Reclamation. Headgate Rock Dam, whose major purpose was to divert water to the Colorado River Indian Reservation, was actually controlled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The Palo Verde Diversion Dam was managed by a bunch of farmers in the Palo Verde Irrigation District. And Imperial Dam, way down by Mexico, was managed by the Imperial Irrigation District, the same group that managed the All American Canal, the largest of all the Colorado River aqueducts.
She nodded. "I'm glad you brought that up. I got ahold of them all, but the person I talked to at Headgate Rock said he couldn't do anything until the big wigs show up for work."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, he was serious. He said the offices for the Bureau of Indian Affairs are in Phoenix, and they didn't have any home numbers for them at the dam."
"So what are we going to do?"
Shauna looked at her watch and then back toward the visitor center. "Well, we should be able to try them pretty soon. They answer their phones early, since much of their communication is with offices on the east coast."
"What about Imperial and Palo Verde? What did they say?"
"Imperial had already put two and two together. They knew they'd get flooded; they just didn't know when. I told them we were concerned with the desalination plant, and they said they had been sandbagging around it all night."
"What'd they say when you gave them the time frames?"
"It was later than they expected. They were actually relieved."
"And Palo Verde?"
"The guy I talked to was very concerned. He wanted to know how much higher the water would be, which I didn't know. He asked me to estimate, so I told him about ten feet. He told me ten feet would put the water level over his dam, which I told him I already knew. He asked what the plan was to save his dam and I had to tell him there wasn't a plan, that we knew it was going to fail. He didn't like that."
"Did you recommend that he break it himself?"
Fred laughed and Shauna looked up, surprised. "No. Should I have?"
Grant explained, "We need to call them back. It would cause a lot less damage if he breaks his dike before the water gets there. Why don't you call them back and explain it to them. Since both Palo Verde and Headgate Rock are landfills, an intentional controlled break before the water levels get out of control would be better. It would not only mitigate upstream flooding and reduce the amount of water released, but more importantly, they would be able to choose where they wanted the dike to break. That'll help them later, when they have to rebuild it."
Fred laughed. "I want to listen to their reaction when you tell them to break their own dams."
Shauna looked nervous. "I wonder how they'll react."
Grant nodded his head. "Oh, they'll be shocked when you suggest it. But once you explain why, they'll understand."
Shauna looked nervous and put her head down. Gran
t touched her shoulder. "Have you called your family? Is it okay for you stay out here for a few days?"
She looked back up and nodded. "I don't need to call. I can stay as long as you want me to. " She smiled. "It's been interesting."
"Had you ever been here before?"
She shook her head. "Not at Hoover. But when I was in high school, my parents took us to LakePowell. We didn't have boats or anything, but we took a tour boat over to see RainbowBridge. We toured the Glen Canyon Dam while we were there. They let us go down and see the turbines and everything. GlenCanyon seems very similar to Hoover."
"Not anymore," said Fred.
Shauna's head turned toward Fred before her eyes bulged. She looked back at Grant. "Oh! I keep forgetting. Was it terrible to watch?"
Grant nodded. "It was amazing and terrible at the same time."
Fred's eyes looked dreamy. "I wish I could have seen it."
Grant tried to visualize. It seemed like weeks ago. "When I left, there were two concrete outcroppings, one from each side of the canyon. That's all that was left of the dam. LakePowell was running down the canyon like a gigantic river, 600 feet deep. The GlenCanyonBridge was gone, buried in the bottom of the river."
Shauna's hand went to her mouth.
Grant broke out of his trance and motioned along the crest of Hoover Dam. "Now we have to save this one." He peered over the 600 foot drop to the river below. "If you believe in prayer, say a prayer for Hoover Dam."
* * *
7:45 a.m. - Wahweap Marina, Lake Powell, Utah
Julie stood in the Mastercraft and looked east toward Castle Rock at the early morning sun. Hundreds of people must have started hiking at first light. They had formed into multiple lines that snaked over the hill from WarmCreekBay. It would be hours before they had hiked around WahweapBay to the marina. She did not envy them.
She looked down at the water and marveled at how far it had dropped during the night. Was it possible that it had dropped another hundred feet? There were literally hundreds of boats stacked two wide below them on both sides of the launch ramp. Although boats had continued to enter WahweapBay the night before, the darkness had halted further attempts. That or the parks service had finally figured a way to prevent boaters from attempting the risky journey.