Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River

by Gary Hansen

  "They think the water is starting to rise," he said, pointing to the small hill where the police were watching the river upstream.

  Grant stood. "Are they sure?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, they said one of the rocks on the river bank, one they were watching, is now underwater.

  "How are your demolition guys doing?" said Grant.

  "I just called them. They said they only need a few more minutes."

  Grant walked out from under the shade so he could look out at the demolition men. He saw a couple of them hustling away with tools and boxes of excess materials. A few remained in their working positions, but Grant couldn't see what they were doing from where he stood. He guessed they were still planting the explosive themselves, or maybe threading in the detonators.

  "Did you tell them to finish up and get outta there?" he asked.

  Frank nodded. "Already did."

  Grant looked downstream from the main head gates to see if he could detect if the water had risen yet. He stared at the water for a while to see if he could see it rise. He finally looked up and saw that only about five men remained below the spillways.

  "The water's rising!" yelled Shauna.

  Grant's eyes moved back toward the river and he noticed the river had risen almost to the top of the wet marks in what must have been only a few seconds.

  Grant turned to Frank. But the site supervisor was already on the radio urging the demolition guys to clear out. "We have to blow it now!" Frank yelled.

  Grant heard the response in the radio. "I can't detonate until my men are clear."

  "Then get them out now!" Kennedy retorted.

  Grant saw the final guy drop what he was doing and begin to run. A moment later a fine film of water breached the top of the moss-covered face of the concrete spillway and streaked it dark gray.

  "The water's there. Blow it now!" urged Frank into the radio.

  "Not 'til my last man's clear," the radio responded immediately.

  Grant saw the man, still running, turn his head to look at the spillway, and suddenly trip and fall down. He was still, not moving.

  Grant cursed under his breath.

  The man's head came up slowly. Grant could see two other men running back to help. The whole face of the spillway was now dark gray and covered with water. The flow downstream from the head gates had increased noticeably.

  Grant tapped Frank on the shoulder. "Ask him if the water flowing over the spillway will screw up the explosives."

  Frank relayed the question and the radio responded, "Yes, if we wait too long."

  The men reached their fallen comrade and immediately started dragging him away.

  "Now!" yelled Frank.

  "Just a little farther," responded the guy on the radio.

  Grant saw the water running over the spillway had increased. It now splashed when it reached the bottom and the boxes left by the demolition team were washing away. Grant looked back at the two men dragging the third. They were only a hundred feet past the spillway.

  The explosion erupted behind them and knocked all three men down. Grant's hands went upwards to relieve the pain in his ears. With his hands still covering his ears he noticed that the lower spillway had a dozen huge openings of up to twenty feet in diameter. Some of the blocks of concrete could be seen downstream from the spillway. Muddy brown water now gushed around the new openings. As he watched, he saw the water open another huge hole, rolling a concrete block out of the way.

  Grant saw Frank Kennedy yelling at him, but couldn't hear anything. Suddenly realizing why, he removed his hands from his ears. "What?" he yelled.

  Grant saw a group of men splashing through knee-deep water to recover the three men knocked down by the explosion.

  "He wants to know if he should blow the upper dam on the Gila side," said Frank.

  Grant turned his head around. "Where's Shauna?"

  She appeared suddenly from behind some of the policemen. He waved her over. "What do you think?"

  Her face revealed a nervous smile. "Wow, that was scary. I was watching the men when it happened. I didn't expect it until they were farther --"

  Grant interrupted. "Me neither. But what about the spillway? Is it enough?"

  "Oh sure. I think the water will finish it off. No problem."

  Grant felt the same, but it felt better that she agreed. "So, no need to open the dam wider?"

  "Couldn't hurt," she responded.

  It wasn't the answer Grant expected. Why blow up the rest of the dam if it wasn't needed? "But if you think that it's enough . . ."

  "The spillway should have been wider from the start," she said quickly. "We might as well open it up like it should have been."

  It made sense. He'd only been thinking of saving the original structure, not leaving it the way he would have designed it. "I think you're right."

  He waved Frank Kennedy over and told him to have the demolition team unhook some of their detonators and only blow another 300 feet of the Gila side. That would leave another couple hundred feet of concrete to protect the GilaCanal head gate. The man on the radio said it would only take a few minutes.

  The amount of brown water flowing through the shattered spillway had grown considerably. The water exited dark and soupy after carving through the years of silt deposited behind Imperial Dam. Although the concrete structure underneath was no longer visible, the general shape could be discerned by looking at the rapids, the higher points revealing the remaining structure. Grant noticed one large rapid move downstream and dissipate, which told him the water pressure had cleared another block of concrete.

  While staring at the scene, he heard the sound of a helicopter. He looked up and saw the LAS VEGAS TOURS logo on its side. Lloyd was back.

  "How long before the river level peaks?" asked Frank.

  Grant looked at Shauna.

  "A half hour, maybe forty minutes," she said.

  They all watched as Lloyd set the helicopter down. As soon as the landing gear touched, Grant heard the engine begin to wind down with the rotors.

  "You guys gonna leave now?" asked Frank tentatively.

  Grant looked at his watch - 5:57 p.m. The water would reach the ocean in a few hours. He felt something powerful tugging at him, telling him to move on. The environmentalist was in Mexico, headed for the delta. He knew it. But the strong force tugging at him was pulling him away from his job. Leaving Imperial Dam before the water peaked, before they knew for sure if the demolition team succeeded, would be deemed irresponsible.

  "No, Frank. We'll stick around for another half hour to see if we opened enough of your dam up."

  Frank's shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled.

  Lloyd walked up. "Did I miss all the action?"

  Grant wanted to ask the pilot more questions about flying into Mexico, but couldn't. "No, Lloyd, we saved the second explosion for you. We should be ready in a minute." Grant nodded at Frank to verify the exact timing on the radio.

  While he waited, Grant pointed south so Lloyd could see him. "Did you run into the FBI while you were in Yuma?"

  "Nah, they didn't arrive at the airport until I was ready to leave. We didn't even talk."

  Grant wondered if they had even recognized Lloyd's chopper as the one Grant was using. More likely that they were thinking about their own responsibilities and not what Grant was doing.

  Frank walked over. "Cover your ears this time; he's going to detonate it in fifteen seconds." Frank turned and shouted for the policemen standing around to cover their ears.

  Grant covered his ears and noticed that Lloyd and Shauna were doing the same. He suddenly realized he hadn't seen Agent Williams since they landed.

  The explosion blew chunks of debris into the air. It hurt his ears even with his hands clamped over them. He watched a large portion of the concrete dam break off and move downstream. Grant guessed that at least half of a football field length of the dam was displaced and that the water would have no problems finishing the job.

  "A
wesome," Lloyd said.

  * * *

  6:25 p.m. - Imperial Dam, California/Arizona Border

  Grant, Lloyd and Shauna stood next to the helicopter watching the water do its thing. The level had risen steadily since the first explosion. Now it seemed to have stabilized at about four or five feet from the top of the original dam. There was no doubt in Grant's mind that the decision to blow the 300 foot section on the Gila side saved the dam from being topped. In all, counting the spillway and the extra section, a 1300 foot section of the dam was now flowing full blast. As Grant had predicted, the ten-foot dike constructed to protect the settling ponds of the AllAmericanCanal had been breached almost fifteen minutes before. They'd have to wait sixty days for the water to drop before they tried to dig out the mud and attempt to restore them.

  The small highway below the dam was underwater. The rushing water had flattened what previously had been an impenetrable mass of willows in the riverbed below the dam. Grant saw no evidence that they had ever existed. Looking downstream, the river had spread out to almost a half mile wide, then steadily flowed downhill for three or four miles before it emptied into the valley of farmland below.

  "Unbelievable," said Lloyd.

  Grant looked at Shauna. "You know what the bright side of this is, don't you?"

  She looked up at him with a confused look on her face. "No. What?"

  "It will only take a few days of this to un-silt the dam. It'll be cleaner than it's been in seventy years."

  She looked back at the water and nodded. "I'm not sure anybody's going to be celebrating."

  As Shauna spoke, Agent Williams walked up to where they were standing. She was covered in concrete dust and her knees were wet and dark.

  Grant shook his head. "Well, look who you see! I was starting to think you blew yourself up."

  "Not likely," retorted the agent.

  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 WahweapBay 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. LakePowell 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.