Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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A tall stocky guy in one of the suits spoke first. "Hi I'm―" He stopped when he got close to the window. "Wow!" He walked over to the glass and stared. The other four agents crowded up behind him. All five talked and pointed for what seemed like a minute.

When they finally broke away from the window, the stocky man spoke again. "Hi. I'm Phillip Sutherland. I'm a deputy field agent for the FBI. Who's in charge?"

Earl, still sitting at the table spoke from underneath his mustache. "You can be, if you want."

Grant laughed under his breath.

The agent took it in stride and smiled. "I'm sure you boys have had an interesting morning."

Grant reached out his hand. "Grant Stevens, Bureau of Reclamation. I flew in from Denver about an hour ago." Grant motioned around the table. "This is Brian; he was the security guard in charge last night."

Brian reached out and shook the agent's hand.

"This is Dan, head of security."

Dan nodded.

"And this is Earl Smith, Captain of the Page Police Department."

The policeman waved without standing up.

The agent looked at Grant. "Well, we have a lot of catching up to do, but we don't want to get in your way. Is now a good time to bring us up to speed?"

"Sure." Grant walked over to the windows overlooking the dam. Grant was getting used to the fact that every time he looked at the dam, the hole got a little bigger. "At approximately 6:00 a.m., an explosion occurred in the west elevator shaft. It used to look just like that one." Grant pointed to the east elevator shaft, still visible on the other side of the dam. "The explosion blew the top out of the elevator shaft and a small hole in the dam. According to Brian, the original hole in the face of the dam was about five feet in diameter and about two-hundred feet down."

Brian nodded approval of the description.

The agent wiped a hand across his forehead. "You mean at 6:00 a.m. the hole was only five feet wide, and now it's this big?" He looked astonished.

Grant nodded. "It only took a small hole to get it started. The water's doing the rest. Too much pressure. The dam'll be gone in less than an hour."

"How long before…" Phil stopped. "Go ahead. Continue."

Grant continued. "Last night an unscheduled elevator repairman showed up and worked on the west elevator. We assume he put a bomb in the elevator. He left his supply trailer on the dam when he left. Earl's guys got a look at it before that section of the dam collapsed."

Earl held up a zip lock bag with white pellets inside. One of the guys in coveralls snatched the bag from Earl and studied it. The agent opened it and used his hand to wave the scent under his nose without inhaling it directly.

"Ammonium nitrate fertilizer," said Earl, still sitting. "The same stuff that kook used to re-arrange the federal building in Oklahoma."

The FBI agent in coveralls nodded his head in agreement. "I think he's right."

"I assume that elevator repairmen do not normally use ammonium nitrate as part of their standard maintenance?" asked Phil.

The question was not intended to be answered, and no one tried.

The second agent in a suit spoke for the first time. "Are you guys searching for the perpetrator?"

Earl nodded. "There's a million ways out of Page, if you count all the dirt roads through the desert. But we setup roadblocks on all the highways a couple of hours ago. We're looking for any newer white pickups."

"And?" prompted Phil.

"And we ain't seen anybody suspicious in a new white pickup, Chevy or otherwise," Earl said unemotionally.

The questions then started to concentrate on what Earl's people found on their fact-finding episode on the dam. They were extremely excited when Earl showed them the camera and explained they had taken pictures of the trailer before it disappeared, then disappointed to find out that the pictures were not digital and would need to be developed. Obviously, things were done differently in the FBI. Grant told them about Brian's description of the sun peeking over the horizon, and one of the agents called someone on his cell phone for an exact time analysis. Overall, the number and detail of the questions was amazing.

At a certain point, when the discussions focused on Earl's officers and Dan's security team, Grant caught himself yawning. He stretched his arms and stood. He walked back over to the wall of windows. Since he had last looked, the water had carved another hundred feet across the dam. However, as the hole expanded east, it cut underneath the crest, leaving a huge section on top that had not broken off yet, an overhang of over a hundred feet. It just hung out there, defying the forces of water rushing around it. He expected it to break away any second. How long could it last? Then abruptly, the whole section let go and disappeared into the torrent below. An extremely loud crack, like thunder, followed a fraction of a second later. The group behind Grant stopped talking and looked at the dam, many standing up for a better view. Grant estimated to himself that about forty or fifty times more water than normal was heading down the Colorado River.

One of the agents in coveralls spoke first. "I'd hate to be downstream in the Grand Canyon right now."

CHAPTER 12

9:45 a.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona

David looked at his watch and noted the time. The silver raft drifted silently along the smooth stretch. He was glad to be back on the river again. After gulping a big breakfast made of hash browns, eggs, bacon, and sausage, all scrambled together, which Keller called morning stew, the group had packed the silver rafts and pushed off.

David was falling in love with the leisurely pace of the river trip. They never rushed to do anything. After six days away from the grind at the office, routines were forgotten. Although the nagging feeling that a million things needed to be done was still perceptible, it had diminished to only an occasional passing thought, which he was learning to ignore. Sometimes in the past, after returning to work after a long vacation, David experienced a sense of re-orientation, where he had to try hard to remember how to do his job. He laughed to himself. After two weeks in the Grand Canyon he might just have to repeat the new employee orientation.

Judy, sitting just in front of him, turned and called back to the guide. "What have we got downstream today, Keller?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, today is an easy one. Probably the best rapids we're going to see are at Waltenburg."

Everybody turned around for the information. Afram asked the first question. "How big?"

"Class five at the best, nothing like the Jewels were yesterday. I'll have to take her in sideways just to cool you off."

The Jewel Rapids had been the best of the trip, especially Sapphire where they had lost Judy into the river. As they had passed through the jewels, they passed mile one hundred, meaning they were a hundred miles downstream from Lee's Ferry, and a hundred fifteen from the Glen Canyon Dam. David couldn't believe how fast the trip was slipping away.

Becky shook her head. "I'm plenty cool, Keller. You don't need to get us wet on purpose."

As the weekend had progressed, Becky and Sam had been acting more and more like an item. She tended to always need help or protection, and Sam was more than willing to fill the role. Sam had even asked Afram to switch places in the raft this morning, so he could sit next to her. David thought it was funny that they could work together every day and never even notice each other, then spend a few days camping with no showers or makeup and all of a sudden discover a little chemistry. Was it possible the outdoors stimulated their hormones? If so, why didn't Becky or Judy look any better to him? Or, more likely, the chemistry had always been there, buried and throttled by the office environment and politics. Sam generally gave his soul at work, and was one of those head-down workaholics. It was probably impossible for Sam to find love at work.

Keller had it figured out. "Why, girl? Sam's not going to let anything happen to you."

The group watched Sam to see what his reaction would be, but he didn't take the bait, showing only a poker face. Becky, on the other hand, couldn't conceal her smile. She obviously liked to be associated with Sam.

"If there are no rapids, then what's for lunch?" Afram asked with a very serious face.

Keller leaned forward. "Didn't I tell you? Today is YOYO day."

When Keller received the blank looks he expected, he continued. "Don't ya know what YOYO means?"

There were a few headshakes, but Judy was the one who asked, "No, Keller, what's YOYO day?"

"YOYO means: You're―On ―Your ― Own," he said, smiling.

They laughed and Afram elaborated. "You mean we can go through the supplies and take whatever we want for lunch?"

"No, what I mean is we'll pull the rafts over for lunch and you guys can eat whatever you find. Kinda like back to nature, environmentalism at its finest."

David looked up at the rock walls and felt glad that Keller was only kidding. He wondered how long he could survive on his own. Not long, he bet. He would wander around for days looking for food. In fact, he hadn't seen anything edible so far on the trip. There were fish in the river; he saw them jump occasionally, but without a pole and bait, he'd die of old age before he caught something.

David looked around. No one talked for a while, evidently having had their fill of sparring with Keller. Even Keller craned his neck and admired the canyon walls. Becky rested her hand on Sam's leg. A state of relaxation permeated. Even though the white-water was the primary reason they had come to the Grand Canyon, one day of smaller rapids would be a nice change.