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Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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Earl saw that the motor home had started moving slowly toward him. The man with the video camera ran and jumped in the side door of the moving vehicle, but quickly re-emerged, hanging out the door with the camera rolling. The motor home was coming up to speed. The police car was right behind, siren still urging. As the motor home got within seventy-five feet of Earl, he could see the young male driver, shirtless and grinning from ear to ear.

While Earl was watching, the bridge let go with a screeching sound loud enough to hurt Earl's ears. The bottom of the west arch under Earl's feet broke loose and the road dropped and twisted, throwing the motor home and the police car off the bridge. Earl was still looking into the driver's eyes when it happened, and saw the grin replaced by an open-mouthed scream.

The asphalt in front of Earl disappeared just three steps in front of him. The motor home and the police car hit the water a hundred feet below. The police car knifed in and went under, but the motor home plopped in like a beach ball and bobbed on the surface. The west end of the bridge was pulled under immediately. The east end of the bridge, still attached, flexed downstream, then it broke loose and was gone too. The police car bobbed back up for a couple seconds, then back under. Earl watched the motor home floating along on the surface, front end down, the water twisting it around as it went. He saw the rear window, now on top, break open with unidentified debris exploding outwards. Without the window to trap air inside, the motor home sank like a rock.

The two officers, who barely escaped, ran up behind Earl. "How many did we lose?"

Earl responded, "One of our officers, and one motor home full of idiots."

10:25 a.m. - Glen Canyon Dam, Arizona

Grant saw the bridge collapse and two vehicles go into the river. The thought of being inside the car sickened him. He hoped it wasn't Earl in the police car. He turned and barked at the FBI agent with the radio. "Get ahold of Earl. Find out if he's okay. See if he knows how many people went in."

The agent walked away from the group while talking into his radio. He quickly gave a thumbs-up sign. "Earl's okay. There was one police officer in the car. They aren't sure how many civilians were in the motor home."

Phil looked at Grant. "What are you going to do now?"

"My job just moved three hundred miles downriver. After I talk to Earl, I'm flying downstream to the next dam to get ready to receive this water. Is that all right with the FBI?"

Grant spoke to the agent. "Tell Earl I need a police car immediately to take me back into Page to the airport."

There was a brief radio communication. "Earl says without the bridge, it's about five hours to Page," the agent relayed.

Grant forgot he needed the bridge to get to Page. He couldn't wait five hours. Suddenly, he was in a hurry to get back to the Gulfstream before the commissioner stole it from him. "Isn't there another way across? Do they have a helicopter?" He waited while the agent asked Earl the question.

"Earl says they don't have any choppers, but he might be able to talk one of those news teams into taking us across in their helicopter. They're still hovering around with cameras. He's going to try to get ahold of one on his radio. He'll let us know."

Fifteen minutes later, Grant was climbing into the green helicopter for KBXY out of Phoenix, Arizona. The chopper sat in the visitor center parking lot with its rotors idling. The network affiliate was more than happy to take Grant across, as long as they could ask a few questions.

Surprisingly, Earl climbed in the helicopter and sat next to Grant. "I DIDN'T WANT TO GO THE LONG WAY, EITHER," he yelled over the noise.

A cameraman climbed in next to Earl and shut the door. The helicopter became amazingly quiet. Grant felt the rotors accelerate. A head appeared around the seat in front of Grant. The guy shoved a microphone in his face.

"What caused the dam to break apart?"

"I'll answer a few questions, but no cameras or microphones."

The reporter showed displeasure, but pulled back the microphone. In an instant, a pad and pencil materialized out of nowhere. "Okay, why is the dam breaking apart?"

Grant felt the helicopter take off. "We think a bomb was placed in the west elevator shaft early this morning. The explosion caused a small hole deep in the dam. The force of the water then tore the dam apart in just under four hours."

"Has any group taken responsibility for the bomb?"

Grant didn't want to talk about that. "Law enforcement should answer questions about the perpetrator. The FBI is handling the criminal investigation."

"What kind of flood should be expected downstream?"

The helicopter was now above what used to be the Glen Canyon Dam. Grant paused to take a look. The water in the canyon was now flowing through the dam site as if it were not even there. The remaining dam only created what amounted to a fifty foot rapid in the river. Grant looked at the high water marks just upstream of the dam site and estimated the water had dropped more than fifty feet next to the dam.

Grant looked back at the reporter. "Could you repeat the question?"

"Flood. What kind of flood will this cause?"

"Luckily, downstream from here the Grand Canyon runs for almost three hundred miles, so not a lot of people or structures to worry about. There are efforts underway to evacuate the visitors from the canyon. Those efforts started almost three hours ago, long before the dam failed."

"Will the dam be rebuilt?"

"I don't know. That's a question for your congressman."

The reporter looked at his notes for a second. "Grant, what is your last name, and what do you do for the Bureau?"

"Last name is Stevens and I am a water resources manager."

"Why did the Bureau send you? Where is Roland Blackwell, the commissioner, or any of the vice presidents? Isn't this a big enough problem to warrant their presence?"

"Roland and most of his team are out of the country. They have been contacted and are arranging for return travel as we speak."

The helicopter had descended and was now landing on the road just past the roadblock on the opposite side of the river. The reporter pleaded with Grant.

"Mr. Stevens, can we get one camera shot of you answering a question? How about an easy one about the water downstream or the dam falling apart over a period of hours?"

Grant considered. He had heard that most of these people were not trustworthy, but this guy seemed okay. "No new questions, and no questions about who did it."

"Great! It will only take a minute."

The helicopter settled and the rotors began to slow down. Earl opened the door and the noise level rose considerably. When Grant climbed out of the chopper, the reporter was waiting for him.

In the noise, the reporter yelled through cupped hands. "LET'S GO OVER THERE WHERE WE CAN GET THE DAM SITE IN THE BACKROUND." He pointed to the river. They started walking away from the helicopter's noise.

Minutes later, the reporter was standing next to Grant, holding the microphone. The cameraman had the camera pointed at them. Grant had not expected the camera to be so close. He felt a sudden urge to straighten his hair, but resisted. The camera moved in close enough to see up his nose. The reporter asked Grant if he was ready.

He nodded. "One easy question," he reminded the reporter.

The reporter spoke into his microphone. "This is Kevin Scott with KBXY in Phoenix, Arizona. We are here at the site of what's left of the Glen Canyon Dam in Page, Arizona with Grant Stevens of the Bureau of Reclamation. The Bureau built this dam as well as most of the other dams in the country. Grant, give us a quick synopsis of what happened here this morning."

Grant felt like he had told this story a hundred times, but almost forgot everything with the camera in his face. He hesitated, which he knew would look awkward on TV. "Early this morning, an explosion went off in the west elevator of the dam. The original hole was small, approximately five feet in diameter. The water pressure then tore the dam apart over the next four hours." Grant stopped talking and looked back at the reporter.

The reporter didn't miss a beat. "As we speak, the FBI is on site investigating the cause of the explosion. As you can see behind us," the reporter turned and motioned to the dam site, "the Glen Canyon Dam has collapsed and Lake Powell is now draining into the Grand Canyon. That's all for now from Kevin Scott."

The light on the camera went out. The reporter looked at the cameraman. "How'd it look?"

"Great. I'll rewind it and you can check it out."

Grant dismissed himself and started walking to the waiting police car. The reporter called out his thanks, but was more concerned with the footage on the camera.

Earl joined in and walked next to Grant. "You're a natural. You oughta be in Hollywood."

"It'll probably get me fired."

"Why? You didn't say anything."

"Doesn't matter. The bosses will be jealous. It should come from them."

"Well, they ain't here."

"They will be." Grant reached out for the car door. "That's when the politics will start." He slid into the back of the squad car.

Earl climbed in the other side. The police car surged ahead and started up the hill toward Page. Grant felt funny leaving the scene, like he was leaving something undone. Part of him wanted to stay and stare. When they crested the top of the hill and entered the city, the car turned left.