Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (67 page)
Read Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River Online
Authors: Gary Hansen
"It's some kind of banner," Shauna added.
When the group finished unrolling, they spread themselves along the banner and lifted it up, revealing the message THE SIERRA CLUB supports the Restoration of the Colorado River Delta. The group held the banner high and shuffled their feet to pivot it slightly to align it with the helicopter.
"Want me to land?" asked Lloyd.
Grant didn't know. As they approached the group, he could see some of their faces. A man with a bushy black beard held the banner at one end. A blond girl with a headband and ponytails stood next to him. Both wore worn clothes. Something told him that neither was the bomber. They both looked like demonstrators, or at least like the ones he'd seen on TV. The girl looked like the type to live in a tree. He could easily imagine the man laying down on the tracks in front of a train transporting nuclear waste, or handcuffing
himself
to the blade of a bulldozer at the site of a new highway.
The helicopter had reached the group now and Lloyd circled around them. They rotated themselves to keep the sign visible. Grant scanned their faces, but the banner obscured some. He could clearly see two blond guys and four women. Grant felt nothing as he scanned for some sign, some indication. What if they got closer? There were too many of them. It would be impossible to get a good look at all of them from the helicopter. He looked back at the man with the black beard and decided he couldn't rule him out as the bomber.
"You want me to land?" asked Lloyd again.
Grant looked up. The pilot was waiting for an answer. "Yeah, okay."
The helicopter sprayed the sand in all directions as it landed. The four passengers waited until the rotors were almost stopped and the sand settled to open the doors. When Grant opened his door he saw that the group holding the sign had approached the helicopter and he could hear them chanting something like: ". .
.orado
". When he heard it the second time, he understood.
"Restore the
As Grant and the others climbed out of the helicopter, the rhythm and energy of the chant seemed to increase. "Restore the
A few more steps and both groups stopped, facing each other. The pace and volume of the chant increased. Grant recoiled as they began to thrust the banner at him in rhythm with their voices. He waved his arms in the air for them to stop, but it only increased their energy. He scanned the group and focused on a few faces. A blond man directly in front of him, also sporting a full unkempt beard, reminded him of a picture he'd seem on one of the tabloids of Brad Pitt when he grew a beard for one of his movies. The man's eyes looked mean and uncivilized. Could he be the bomber?
A girl to Grant's left caught his eye. She was a beautiful brunette with big eyes and long straight hair over a white t-shirt. She was young. She was chanting like the others, but without the hostility. He would be shocked if she was older than fifteen. He felt sure she had not masterminded the explosion at the Glen Canyon Dam.
Farther left, Grant spotted a man wearing a white polo shirt. Unlike the others, he was clean-shaven and professional looking. He looked more like the sort who just got off work than a protestor. Lacking was the urgency in his eyes like the rabid blond guy directly in front.
Grant wondered how, or if, the stalemate would end. How long could they go on? But he sensed the energy of the group was dying. When he scanned back to his right, the black bearded guy he'd first seen from the helicopter had stopped chanting and was motioning with his free arm for them to stop. It took a while for Black Beard to quiet them, but after a few half-hearted attempts, they stopped.
"Why is the FBI traveling in a tour helicopter?" yelled the blond guy in front.
The question caught Grant off guard, and he instinctively turned to look at Agent Williams. He saw her blue coveralls with the insignia on the breast pocket and realized how they'd made the connection.
He looked back at Black Beard and waved his hands back and forth. "No. No. We're not FBI, we're--"
The blond cut him off, pointing. "That's a lie, we can see her. . ." He didn't finish, but emphasized his point at Agent Williams by shaking his finger.
"What I meant to say," said
Grant,
"was that we are not all FBI. We're . . ." He stopped and looked back at his group. Lloyd, with his beard and clothing, could easily blend in with the protestors. Shauna, who looked terrified, looked the part of the analyst she was. Special Agent Williams, with the coveralls,
well,
there was no doubt about what she did. Grant wondered what the protestors thought he looked like. He realized he needed to be careful about what he told them about the group. He didn't want to force the bomber undercover.
"We're here to mitigate some of the damage of the impending flood." He saw that many of the group's eyes remained on Special Agent Williams. Grant pointed to her. "The FBI sent a demolition expert in case we found any other bombs."
"Who do you work for?" asked Black Beard.
Grant hesitated, worried about the effect of his answer.
"The Bureau of Reclamation."
The blond in front went nuts and thrust his arm forward, pointing at Grant. "You're the bastards that built the dams. You guys are the ones that killed the river. This delta's dead because of you."
The words stung. He looked straight at the blond guy. "Those dams were built before you or I
were
even born," he said defensively.
A woman pointed at him. "Well, the river's free again now. The delta's gonna be alive again." She looked behind her to make sure she had their support. "And we're not gonna let the government put it back again. You're not going to re-build
"What are you guys looking for down here, on the delta?" asked one of the protestors.
Grant knew he was on dangerous ground. "We've been following the flood waters. We just came from Imperial and flew over the flooding in northern
"How bad's the flooding in
Grant looked around at the now-attentive group. "It's bad, actually terrible. When we flew over, it looked like the river was flooding for miles in every direction." By the positioning of their vehicles, he guessed the protestors had driven down the east side of the river through the farmland. They would have seen the makeshift shacks and huts. "It looked like many of the small homes were decimated."
"We saw some bodies floating in the water," Shauna added, from behind.
Grant saw some heads drop and some shoulders sag.
"What about upstream?" asked the blond guy, who had calmed and now almost looked civilized.
Grant looked around. "Well, Headgate Rock Dam in Parker,
The blond man's eyes flared. "We don't care about your dams."
Grant considered the rebuff. "How about the destruction we saw south of Parker Dam, and the bodies we saw floating there? How about the areas below Laughlin where a whole community of houses and buildings were washed away? Or what about the trailer park below Headgate Rock Dam that was totally destroyed when the flood carried them downstream and piled them up against a railroad bridge? How about yesterday in the
"That's not our fault," the blonde said tentatively.
"Oh? I thought that's what you were here celebrating," said Agent Williams.
Grant stared into their eyes, the ones that were still looking up. Most showed compassion. The young brunette looked like she might cry.
"We're here to celebrate the freedom of the river," Black Beard said. "That doesn't mean we're happy about the people who died."
Grant thought they were getting close to the issue. "But you support what was done?" asked Grant. "Blowing up the dams? Isn't that why the Sierra Club sent you?"
Black Beard hesitated.
"Yes!" yelled the blond. "It had to be done."
Grant saw heads nod, but none as enthusiastic as the blonde. Black Beard's face showed concern. Others turned and looked at the blonde as if he were crazy. Grant scanned back and forth quickly to assess how many true supporters of bombing the dams there really were. He guessed that most of
this group, like in similar groups, were
followers. Although passionate about the environment, they would never consciously kill people to achieve their goals. Even Black Beard seemed reluctant to kill. Only the blonde and one of the women had enough hate in their eyes.
Black Beard spoke. "We're members of The Sierra Club, but they didn't send us out here or make the sign. We did that on our own. I don't know whether the Sierra Club supports the bombing, but a spokesman on the news this morning said the attack was inevitable. It was only a matter of time. We would have preferred the river be restored peacefully, but we all know that's impossible."
"Look!" someone shouted.
"Another helicopter."
The conversation was forgotten as both groups turned and looked into the sky.
"Get the sign turned around," said Black Beard, motioning with his arm. "It might be the news."
Grant looked ahead and saw the approaching helicopter. As it approached, he noticed it was in fact a media chopper. A tethered cameraman hung from an open door. The words Channel 4 News,
The chant, "Restore the
Grant, Shauna, Agent Williams, and Lloyd were suddenly standing alone, having been abandoned by the protestors.
"What now?" asked
Lloyd.
Grant scratched his head. "I don't know." He looked over at the group holding the banner. "I don't think anybody in that group is our man."
"What about that tall blonde guy?" Shauna asked. "He scared me."
Grant shook his head. "I don't know. He's got the passion for it, but --"
"He's not smart enough," said Lloyd. "These guys are just a bunch of hippies that decided to drive out here and get on TV." He pointed toward the group who were shuffling their feet to keep the banner aligned. "Look at 'em."
"Restore the
"I hate to say it, but Lloyd's right," said Agent Williams. "I don't think he's in that group. He'd look different. He'd be different."
"There was one guy who did look different," said Shauna. "He was dressed better, cleaner."
"The guy in the polo shirt," Grant said.
"Yeah."
Shauna nodded.
Lloyd shook his head. "Did ya see what Polo shirt he was wearin'?"
They all looked at the pilot. Grant shook his head.
"Dirty Devils," said Lloyd. "It's an off-road accessory store. He's the guy they recruited to bring the dune buggies." He pointed at the vehicles, then back at the group. "You think those bozos could get out here by themselves?"
While they were talking, the news helicopter had made a full circle around the banner. Grant saw that the cameraman then pointed his camera at the Vegas Tours chopper, not the protestors.
The pilot nudged Grant. "I think your secret mission into
Before Grant could respond, the helicopter broadcasted a message from its PA system. "Attention below! Floodwater is approaching. We recommend everyone leave this area immediately. Repeat. Floodwater is approaching quickly from the north. Please vacate this area while it is still possible."
Grant shielded his eyes from the setting sun and scanned in a northwest direction. How far out was it? He wondered if the news helicopter could actually see the water, or whether it was still a few miles out. Unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to tell until they got back up in the air.
The warning message had confused the protestors. A few released the banner and were running back toward the dune buggies. At least six or seven still held the banner as if nothing had changed. Eventually, they released it, but stood next to it arguing about what to do. The chant stopped. One of the runners was the guy in the polo shirt whom they guessed owned the buggies. He now waved frantically for the others to follow. Grant guessed that he had no intentions of donating his vehicles as martyrs to the