Read Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River Online
Authors: Gary Hansen
Grant scratched his head. "I don't know on this one,
"Then why
Phil pleaded.
"I was just thinking on the way down here - Davis Dam itself probably isn't the target. Not if you believe that the same guy blew both dams."
Agent Williams interjected, "Both dams were blown with ammonium nitrate fertilizer. Both dams were blown by a white guy in a white pickup. Both guys posed as if they should be allowed inside."
Grant glanced over at Agent Williams. It sounded pretty convincing when she said it like that. He nodded and looked back at Phil. "So, assuming it's the same group, with similar point men,
then
I don't believe that the two puzzle pieces fit yet."
"What do you mean 'yet'?" said Phil.
"I mean that the two,
Phil held out the palms of his hands. "What if
Grant didn't understand. "Gee, guys, I don't know about you, but if I were the bomber, I'd consider the bombing of Glen Canyon Dam a raging success. It's gone.
Phil pointed at Grant. "What if you hadn't done anything at
Grant hadn't considered that line of reasoning, but he still didn't think it fit. "If that were the case, why bomb
Phil changed the subject. "You said that you think there will be more bombings. Why?"
Grant knew he'd have trouble explaining this. "Well, like I said, these two dams don't have much in common. One is huge and well known; the other small and unknown. One buried an archeological wonder and the other only raised the water in an obscure canyon." He hesitated,
then
looked straight into Phil's eyes. "Look, I admit that it's more like a feeling than logic, but I'm almost certain he hasn't shown all his cards yet. What we have now just doesn't add up."
Phil continued. "What do you think the results would have been if the bomber had successfully destroyed Davis Dam?"
Grant shrugged. "Well, it would've wiped out all the Casinos in Laughlin. There would be tons of flooding and damage in
"Who would be affected the most by that?" said Phil.
Grant looked around. "Boaters, I guess; water-skiers and vacationers, and everyone who owns a house on the banks of the
Phil grinned.
"Exactly.
And who was most adversely affected by draining
Grant rubbed his chin skeptically. "So you think this guy's blowing up the dams because he hates boaters?"
Phil leaned forward.
"Why not?
It's something that both dams have in common. If you added up all the boaters on Powell, Mojave, and Havasu, you'd have a hard time finding three other lakes in the country with more boats."
Grant looked into Phil's pleading expression and understood immediately that Phil wanted to believe it, in a bad way. "I dunno, Phil."
Phil pleaded. "What if the guy's wife and kids were killed in a boating accident, Grant? What if a boat trailer came unhooked on the freeway and killed his mother?"
Grant could see the logic. A part of him wanted to embrace the theory, if for no other reason than to believe that the bombings were finally over. "Well, that should be easy to investigate. You should be able to get a list of boating related fatalities, right?"
Phil nodded. "I got a bunch of agents checking into it already. They were isolating the search around
"Better add
"Good point." Phil jotted down some notes.
Grant hesitated to bring it up. "What about securing other likely sites?"
Phil was disappointed. "You mean if he tries to bomb other dams? Sure, we can do that. Where would you suggest?"
Grant started counting across his fingers. "Well, definitely all the dams on the lower Colorado, starting with Parker just downstream, Head Gate Rock, Palo Verde, and Imperial. But why not send a bulletin out to all dams, reservoirs, and lakes in the western
Phil instructed one of the other agents to write down Grant's suggestions. The agent asked Grant to repeat the names of the lower Colorado Dams, which he did. Phil asked if Grant could facilitate getting the information out to the dams via the Bureau of Reclamation. Grant gave Phil a contact at the Bureau to help him.
Grant asked another question nervously. "What about the whole international terrorist theory? Did you give up on that?"
Phil shrugged. "I have a whole team still investigating that scenario just in case. But it's not holding water." He smiled quickly as he realized the innuendo. "Solitary white guys at
both dams
, fertilizer bombs, big dam, little dam. It just doesn't fit."
Grant looked at his watch again and felt anxious. He needed to get back to
Phil nodded, also standing. "Well, we know how to get ahold of you."
Grant reached down to his hip for the cell, but it wasn't there. He looked back up at the FBI agents. "Actually, you won't be able to get ahold of me for a while. I lost my phone during my little accident." He motioned up toward the dike. "I'll try to get another one when I get to
Phil nodded to one of the agents in coveralls, who unclipped his cell phone and handed it to Grant. Grant looked strangely at it, not knowing what to do. He was just about to hand it back when Phil held up both of his hands. "Hey, we can't afford to not be able to get in touch with you. Consider it a gift from the FBI. You can send it back to us when all this is over."
The agent who'd given it to him wrote down the phone number for him and made sure Grant knew how to work it. Phil turned and engaged one of his agents in conversation. Grant took the opportunity to sit back down and use the new phone to call Fred at
She checked the bandages on his arms and tugged at the wrapping on his left arm that was slipping down. "Good luck at
"Thanks, we'll need it." He held up his arms. "Thanks for bandaging me up. You went far beyond the call of duty for an FBI agent."
She stood and smiled down at him. "Not a problem. The government needs you at
Grant's eyes drifted to the black semi-automatic gun strapped on her hip. He remembered how rigid and tough she had acted when she first arrived, and how precise and meticulous she had done her job at the bombsite. But underneath the FBI facade, she had turned out to be personable, something he never would have guessed two hours earlier.
Grant checked his watch again. It was time to move on. He had forgotten to get an update from Fred about what had happened at
CHAPTER 28
2:45 a.m. -
When the helicopter touched down in the parking lot, Grant shook hands with the FBI agents and the security guards,
then
hurried to climb in and sit down. His bandaged toe was throbbing. He would need Advil or something even stronger as soon as he reached
After the rotors accelerated, the helicopter rose gently and Grant felt himself relax into his seat. The altitude gave him a great view of Davis Dam. Down below he saw Reese leaning against his truck, talking to someone on a radio, and the bulldozers sweeping back and forth over the damaged section created by the explosion. They were past the critical stage. Grant relaxed for the first time in many hours. He closed his eyes to savor the feeling, and had difficulty re-opening them.
He pried open his eyes when he felt the helicopter lean forward and accelerate. By then they were headed north across the glimmering black surface of
* * *
3:00 a.m. -
The truck cut through the desert air at 70 mph and the radio blasted George Thorogood's "Bad to the Bone." The skinny man sang along enthusiastically,
" .
. . I'm here to tell ya honey, that I'm bad to the bone.
B-B-B-B-Bad, B-B-B-Bad, B-B-B-Bad to the bone."
When the song ended, he laughed out loud. He slapped the dashboard and yelled as loud as he could. His neck and shoulders tingled so he shrugged them a few times. He didn't remember ever feeling this much energy. It felt wonderful. A road sign shot past on the side of the road. He was getting close. Reluctantly, he turned off the radio and tried to relax. He didn't want to miss the turnoff.
Since he had planted the bomb at Davis Dam, he had traveled back to Vegas for more supplies before heading south again. His ammonium nitrate supply was almost depleted, but then again, who would have ever thought he would be able to accomplish so much with so little. Back in Vegas, it had taken only forty minutes to restock the truck. He almost stopped at McDonalds before realizing that this could possibly be his last meal. So he drove on, and instead chose an all-night restaurant, with a steak and jumbo shrimp, the big ones, not those little dinky ones they give you on the all-you-can-eat special. He put the whole thing on the card. Why not?