Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (34 page)

BOOK: Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River
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Grant smiled. It had never occurred to him that the calculations were done by hand. Over the last fifteen years the Bureau had not done anything without modeling it on a computer first. If someone took all the computers away today, the Bureau would stop dead. They wouldn't know what to do. Grant had seen slide rules, but he didn't even know how to work one. Actually, Grant wasn't sure he could balance his checkbook anymore without a computer.

Fred looked at him. "What are you thinking?"

Grant shrugged. "Just that we're sitting here racking our brains, and the flood's not even here yet." Grant looked back out at the action on the dam and kept talking without looking at Fred. "If we're able to contain all this water in my little dam extension project - Hoover-Two," he corrected himself, "then all three sets of spillways will be running at full capacity for weeks. None of the three dam's spillways have ever been tested at full capacity for a minute, let alone weeks."

Fred spoke from behind Grant. "In 1983 when the water was high, only two feet of water went over the spillways at
Hoover
for sixty days - less than five percent of capacity. Even that almost ruined the spillways. I can't imagine what this is going to do."

Grant smiled. "Compared to what would happen if the water breaches Hoover, they're going to be happy to re-build the spillways after it's over."

Grant's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello."

"Grant,
it's
Howard."

Grant recognized the voice of his boss. His stomach turned. His boss was the last person he wanted to talk to.
"Oh, hi Howard.
How's
Yellowstone
?"

Howard spoke fast, obviously excited. "We've been driving around in the park all day,
then
we went out and ate. I hadn't heard any news. I flicked on the TV and . . . the Glen Canyon Dam - unbelievable. I called Cindy at home and she forwarded me to Julia. Julia told me that you're there handling it. I can't believe . . ." His voice tapered off.

Grant silently cursed the two secretaries for giving Howard his phone number.
"Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Where are you?
Page?
Why didn't you call me?"

Grant hesitated. Actually, the thought of calling Howard had never occurred to him. Howard would have no idea what to do, and of course Grant didn't want the bureaucratic interference. He felt like he had plenty of obstacles without his boss questioning everything. "I'm at Hoover Dam in Veg-"

"I know where
Hoover
is. Why aren't you at
Glen
Canyon
? Isn't that where the problem is?" Grant could already detect the condescending attitude.

Grant couldn't stop the defensiveness in his voice. "What'd you want me to do at
Glen
Canyon
? The dam's gone."

"Well, what are you doing at
Hoover
?"

"We're getting ready for the flood; we're dumping as much water as possible to lower the lake." Grant decided not to bring up the part about dynamiting
Hoover
's spillways. "And we're building a dike on top of the dam to try to prevent overtopping." The phone went silent for a moment.

"Overtopping - you think that might happen?"

Grant talked down to him. "Yes, Howard,
Hoover
is going to get overtopped."

"How do you know that for sure?"

It never ceased to amaze Grant how some people could argue with so much conviction when they were completely wrong. "Howard,
Lake
Powell
holds almost two years of river flow. You think Mead has that much extra capacity?"

There was silence on the line before Howard continued. "Well, then, what makes you think a dike on top of
Hoover
will hold it? Two years of flow held by a dike?"

Grant willed himself to not lose his temper.

Howard continued. "And besides, who approved building a dike on top of the dam anyway? That's going to cost a fortune."

Grant gritted his teeth. "The governor of
Nevada
approved it."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. Even though Howard was a little behind, it didn't prevent him from saying something stupid. "You got him involved? What the hell were you thinking?"

Grant spat the words out. "He was here when I got here. I didn't call him. Besides, I needed him to get things done."

Howard switched his line of questioning. "How high is the dike you're building?"

Grant knew where this was going.
"Twenty feet."

"Twenty feet, what's that gonna do? How'd you come up with that number?"

Grant got angry and yelled into the phone. "We calculated the height we'd need based on the water levels at both dams. Why, how high do you think I should build it, Howard? Do you have a better number in mind? Or, do you want me to tell the governor to stop the dike? You want to make the decisions now? Go ahead."

Howard hesitated. "Well, it's just that . . ."

Grant couldn't stop himself. "It's just that you're great at complaining, but you don't have a clue what to do." Grant realized he had gone too far.

The retort came, but Howard's voice was weak. "Hey, I'm just thinking out loud here."

Grant resisted the urge to tell his boss he shouldn't think out loud - it tended to make him look like an idiot.

Howard changed the subject. "What did Roland say when he called?"

"He told me not to make any decisions."

Howard laughed. "Well, it sounds like you screwed that up."

Grant agreed, "I didn't have any choice. Something had to be done."

Howard's tone changed to consolatory. "Well, you better hope your ideas work, 'cause we both know what'll happen if they don't."

Grant summed it up.
"Yeah.
I'm screwed if I do, and screwed if I don't."

"When's Roland going to be back in the country?"

Grant wished he knew. "I have no idea. When I talked to him around 10 a.m., he was still trying to find a flight back from
Paris
."

"He hasn't called since?" Howard asked.

"No, he didn't call back, which I'm assuming means they're in the air. I figure he could be arriving somewhere between midnight and noon tomorrow."

"You think the dike will be done by then?"

"It better be. We expect overtopping before 6:00 a.m."

Howard asked a question that must have hurt. "How did you figure out when the water would arrive?"

Grant answered. "The bureau put together a failure study in the nineties for
Glen
Canyon
. They modeled the whole thing. I have a table showing when the flood arrives at each location."

The phone went silent. Howard had finally run out of questions. Grant asked his boss a question he was afraid of. "What are you going to do? Are you coming here?"

Howard hesitated. "Well, we're here in
Yellowstone
. We drove from
Denver
. I'd hate to leave my wife and the kids. She doesn't like to drive. It's a long drive home with the kids."

Grant felt elated. Reading between the lines, it seemed like Howard was a little scared to come. Somebody might figure out he was over his head.

Howard continued. "But I guess I'd better at least check on some flights.
Y'know with Roland coming and all.
I - don't know. Do you need me?"

Grant shook his head. He wanted to laugh, but didn't. "You'll have to make that decision yourself, Howard."

His boss went silent for a moment. "All right, I'll look into some flights, and talk to my family. I'll call you later."

"Okay," Grant responded.

"Call me if anything changes."

Grant knew he wouldn't call, and he thought Howard knew that too.
"Yeah.
Okay, Howard."

"All right, I'll call you later." The line went dead.

Grant hung up the cell phone. He wondered how these guys with attitudes ever get anywhere. Wasn't it obvious to everyone? Yet there seemed to be at least one of these guys in every organization. And somebody had to have been stupid enough to promote them to a powerful position. The thought was mind-boggling.

Fred had been listening to the whole call. "That your boss?"

Grant nodded. "He's new at the bureau."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "New? Sounds like it. But he's your boss?"

Grant smiled. "It's a long story. He's not an engineer. He's a lawyer. Some congressman stuck him in our organization to look us over. He's a plant."

Fred shook his head. "You're kidding, right?"

Grant just shook his head.

Fred looked at his watch and then motioned to the door. "Come on. Let's go up to the casino and eat. You need to get out of here for a while."

Grant took one last look out at Hoover Dam and the partially constructed dike.

Fred grabbed his arm and pulled him. "Come on. This can take care of itself for a while. They can call us if they need us."

Grant felt wrong about leaving. What if something came up?

* * *

9:20 p.m. -
Grand Canyon
,
Arizona

David wondered how much higher the water could rise. It had to already be four or five hundred feet above normal. There was no question in David's mind that the Glen Canyon Dam had broken. There was just too much water for any other explanation.

The canyon was now completely dark. Only the stars were visible. The entire group had retrieved their flashlights from their packs, but Keller had forced everyone to take turns to save battery power. David wore a headset light on his forehead, but it was currently not illuminated. At the moment, Sam was shining his up and down the rock walls, searching for handholds higher up.

They were close to getting rimmed again. The rising water had forced them against a vertical rock wall and it was David and Afram's turn to hold the raft. The two of them stood in waist-deep water, while everyone else sat inside. David felt the raft trying to pull him deeper into the water.

"It's too deep," Afram complained. "I can't hold it much longer."

Judy illuminated her flashlight. "Sam, look over there." She pointed her light at a small rock outcropping at eye level, off to the left of the raft.

Sam pointed his light at the same spot.

"Couldn't somebody climb up there?" she asked.

"Then what?"

She motioned upwards with her light. "You might be able to traverse up that ledge."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think you could make it. It's too narrow."

David's teeth chattered. "Try it! We can't hold on much longer." The water was almost to his waist and he had no leverage.

Keller helped Judy climb onto the outcropping. As soon as she found a place to grab, she pulled herself up. Like a spider, she clung to the rock and tried to traverse higher.

"It works," she said. "Somebody else come up."

Keller motioned for Sam to climb,
then
maneuvered to give him a leg up. Sam handed his light to Becky. Then with a boost from Keller, he reached for the wall as Judy had. But he missed the handhold. The action of Sam leaning against the rock was pushing the raft away from the cliff. David felt Afram stumble and lose his footing.

"I can't hold it!" Afram screamed.

But it was too late. Afram slipped into water over his head, and David couldn't hold the raft himself. It had almost pulled him deep before he let go. With the raft moving away, Sam fell into the boat and Becky screamed. Afram came up from underwater and stroked back to the rock wall.

Keller, Sam, and Becky were in the raft, and David, Afram, and Judy were on the rocks. And then the raft was gone into the darkness. Becky was screaming. There was no time to do anything. The beam from the flashlight hit David once more before the raft disappeared around the bend.

David wanted, needed, to yell out something, to scream at the top of his lungs. But nothing seemed appropriate. What could you say? Goodbye? Good luck? He heard Judy sob.

They were enveloped in darkness. Becky's screams eerily tapered off as the raft moved quickly downstream. David knew his friends would be dead in minutes, and the shock of that knowledge paralyzed him. After a while, they could no longer hear Becky screaming.

* * *

9:25 p.m. -
Grand Canyon
,
Arizona

Keller regained his senses and took inventory. Only he and the couple were in the raft. The other three were behind on the rocks. He waited a few seconds for Becky to stop screaming, and then he barked out orders. "Find the paddles!"

BOOK: Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River
4.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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