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Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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9:55 a.m. - Glen Canyon Dam, Arizona

Grant stood at the windows overlooking the dam, or what was left of it. The water had torn almost all the way to the east side. Again, a section over a hundred feet long jutted out, ready to snap at any moment. This time the whole group stood watching, even the FBI agents.

"Why isn't it breaking off?" Phil asked.

"It will," said Grant. "Keep watching."

"Look at all the water down the canyon." Brian pointed downstream.

Grant looked and noticed that most of the mist was gone. He hadn't realized it until just now. The clear visibility allowed a good view into the canyon. The huge waterfall into the canyon had transformed, over the last hour, into a more gradual drop, gradual being a relative word describing a drop of over a hundred feet. With the water downstream four hundred feet above normal, the water didn't have to drop very far. Looking downstream at the new river, Grant saw an outcropping of rock break off and fall into the river.

"It's going," yelled one of the FBI agents in coveralls, pointing to the dam.

Grant turned in time to see the huge section of concrete falling into the river. The piece made a big splash and then it was gone. The loud sound followed a moment later. The only evidence of the break was the impact waves that dispersed quickly as they radiated downstream.

Grant looked around at the group. "The Glen Canyon Dam is no more." He checked his watch, 9:58 a.m. He thought to himself that he had only missed estimating the time by 28 minutes — not bad. No one said anything for a few moments.

"Guess I need to start looking for a new job," said Brian, the security guard.

His boss, Dan, looked at him. "Nobody said you were fired."

Brian looked back at his boss. "You better start looking too, boss. There ain't nothing left to guard here."

Dan's eyebrows came up as the realization sunk in.

Phil patted Brian on the back. "There's going to be a lot of Looky-Lou's for months. Somebody's got to guard this place. You guys'll be fine for a while."

The comment didn't seem to make them look any happier.

10:00 a.m. - Hole in the Rock, Lake Powell, Utah

Julie wanted to stop, but there were only a few steps more to go. She kept climbing and used her hand on the sheer rock wall on her left. Her husband and Paul watched her from above, and the breathing grunts and sounds of shoes on rock told her Erika was just behind. Her calves and thighs burned, but she tried to bury that thought or she knew she wouldn't make it. She had taken her t-shirt off as well, and she could feel her hair swishing through the slimy perspiration on her back.

"A few more steps, baby," Greg encouraged.

"Come on, Erika," Paul coaxed.

And then Julie reached the summit. She turned and held her hand out to Erika and pulled her up the last step. Both women stood and looked down the way they had come, breathing heavily. The notch seemed almost vertical back down to the boats and water below, forcing Julie to take a step backwards from the edge. The water looked inviting though, and made Julie wish she were already back at the bottom.

Her husband moved beside her. "Incredible view, isn't it?"

Julie agreed, but shook her head. "It wasn't worth it, though."

Her husband looked shocked, then put his arm around her. "Come on! You did great. We did it in less than an hour."

Erika spoke for the first time since reaching the top. "That was nuts. No wonder we never did this before."

Paul held out his hands. "It wasn't that bad."

Erika turned on her husband. "How would you know?" she shot back. "You're an animal."

Julie started to laugh. Erika's expression finally softened, then she and the men laughed as well.

Julie felt dizzy. "I need to sit down."

Greg led her over to a small rock ledge, which made a perfect bench. Julie sat, even though the rock was hot. Her legs trembled. Erika came over and sat next to her. The plateau was nothing but barren red rock hills for miles in every direction. A couple of hundred yards away was a small gravel parking lot for jeeps and other four-wheel drive vehicles that had driven to the spot. The lot was empty. The rock was burning Julie's legs so she stood and put her t-shirt under her and sat back down. She unscrewed the lid on her canteen and drank. She poured a small amount in her hair, and it felt wonderful. If only she had more, she would douse her whole body.

"How long do you want to stay up here?" Greg asked.

Julie wished again she were already back down in the water. "I don't want to stay here at all. But I'm not hiking back down until I rest for a while."

Paul pointed to something over by the parking lot. "There's a plaque over there that talks about how the Mormons got their oxen and stagecoaches down. We could go read it." He sounded hopeful.

"The Mormons were nuts, if they took wagons down there," Erika stated flatly.

Greg patted his wife on the back. "Well, I can see that we've got two pissed off women here. What's it gonna take to get you two in a good mood?"

Julie looked up at her husband. "Carry me back down."

He turned and crouched. "Okay, get on."

She cocked her head. "You're serious?"

He motioned onto his back with his thumb. "Get on!"

She decided to play along. She stood and climbed on her husband's back. Greg stood. Paul had done the same for Erika, and she climbed on his back.

"We're going down now?" Erika asked.

Greg brayed like a donkey. "Piggy back to the plaque. Piggy back to the plaque." He brayed again and started galloping roughly toward the parking lot. Paul followed. The girls spurred their husbands and giggled.

CHAPTER 13

10:05 a.m. - Glen Canyon Dam, Arizona

With the dam completely collapsed, Grant knew he needed to move on, downstream. They weren't doing all the things necessary downstream, he was sure of it. He looked down river and saw another outcropping of rock break off the canyon wall and fall into the river. The river was a raging menace. The canyon would look different after twenty-four hours of this river. It would tear it apart. He focused on the metal Glen Canyon Bridge, only a few hundred feet from the dam. Although the roadway of the seven-hundred-foot-high bridge was well out of the water, the latticework of steel girders under the arch reached hundreds of feet down and attached to the sandstone canyon walls. Grant could not see where they attached. They were underwater. He couldn't help but notice that many cars were stopped on the bridge. He could see people standing. The bridge was obviously a good viewpoint to watch the dam collapse.

Grant waved Earl over. He pointed down where the support structure disappeared underwater. "Check that out. The mounts and girders are in the water. That could bring it down."

Earl didn't need any more information. He pulled a radio off his belt. "Close the Glen Canyon Bridge. I need roadblocks on both sides. Get everybody off now. We might lose it."

Earl looked at the group, especially Phil from the FBI. "I need to leave for a while and make sure they get it cleared off. You know where to find me." He started walking toward the door.

One of the FBI guys in coveralls intercepted him. They both took out their radios and exchanged a couple of comments. The guy from the FBI wrote something down while Earl started back out the door. The agent punched something into his radio and then held it up to his face. "Earl, you copy?"

Grant heard the response. "Yup." Earl sounded even raspier on the radio.

The guy in coveralls went over to his briefcase and retrieved an earphone assembly. He plugged one end in a jack on his radio and the other in his ear. He then walked back over by the group as if nothing had happened.

Grant noticed one of the other guys in coveralls talking to Phil. Phil nodded and said to the group, "According to Brian's description of the sun rising, the explosion occurred somewhere between 6:05 and 6:30 a.m. this morning."

Grant remembered thinking the time of explosion seemed so important a couple of hours ago. Now with the dam gone and Lake Powell draining into the canyon, he wondered why it made any difference.

Phil came over to Grant. "Mr. Stevens, can we sit down and talk about a few things?" He motioned to Brian and the other security guys. "Can you guys join us?"

Grant looked at his watch. He needed to leave. "I guess I can talk for a few minutes." He sat down at the table.

"Our first suspicion on this kind of situation would be international terrorists, after all the problems with the World Trade Centers in New York and all, and we are proceeding with that investigation. However, a couple of things don't add up. The first being that Brian here described the elevator repairman as a white guy. We checked him out. The paperwork was fake, and the maintenance company has no employees that fit his description. We expected as much. It's still probable that he was a foreigner, but he could be an American or European working with them. There's a lot of sympathy for the Middle East and bad blood for Americans and what they are doing over there."

One of the agents in coveralls spoke to Brian. "Do you remember if he had any kind of noticeable accent?"

"I'm trying to remember what he sounded like." He shook his head. "I don't remember any accent. I just remember he was calm and confident. When I said we didn't have him scheduled, he showed me the paperwork and rattled off Dan's name and how it was already set up and all. No, I wouldn't say he had any accent. His speech was very professional, if nothing else."