Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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The officer turned toward Grant. "You just came from Lake Powell?" He sounded curious and concerned.

"Yup. Things were pretty hairy up there. What have you heard?"

The officer kept his eyes on the road. "The news said the Glen Canyon Dam let go, a bomb or something. My wife says there's stuff on TV that shows water filling up the whole canyon. Real bad."

The car reached the intersection of US-93 just as the light turned green. Grant looked up and down the street and didn't see many other traffic lights. Without slowing, they merged onto US-93 heading down the hill. The road provided a great view of Lake Mead.

Grant was surprised to see some boats out on the water. He pointed. "Why are they still out there?"

The officer leaned forward and tried to look ahead of a car in front of them. "They've been trying to clear the lake all morning, since we got the news. But it's a big lake and there's not enough people to warn them." He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at Grant. "Why? How soon should we expect the water?"

Grant was happy the officer's eyes had returned to the road. "It won't get here until after midnight, but you need to get everybody off before it gets dark."

Grant tensed as the officer swerved into the passing lane and accelerated around an SUV pulling a water-ski boat. They passed the turnoff to Boulder Beach State Park and headed up a hill, losing sight of the lake. A casino sat perched at the top of the hill, the last opportunity to gamble for those leaving Nevada. The policeman keyed the mike on his radio.

"I've got your boy from the Bureau. We're just passing the casino."

After the casino, US-93 wound lazily for a mile through jagged rock ridges until dropping via a couple tight winding switchbacks to the dam. Ahead, he saw where the highway continued across the top of the dam into Arizona, and surprisingly, traffic was still being allowed across. Looking deep into the canyon, he could see the six outlets from the Arizona side of the dam were open, spraying huge columns of water across the canyon in a spectacular water show, a show not seen since the spring floods of 1983. However the six outlets on the Nevada side were still closed, a problem. All twelve outlets should've been open. It meant Hoover wasn't dumping as much water as they could. They hadn't followed his instructions.

A dozen orange cones blocked entry to the Visitor Center parking garage, which sat wedged into the cliffs. An officer stood next to a sign that read 'Hoover Dam Visitor Center CLOSED'. The visitors center itself, a modern oval building, hanging over the edge of the deep canyon, was similar to the one at Glen Canyon. The officer pulled right up next to the round building and stopped. A man waited outside for the police car. When the car stopped, the man reached for the door. Grant recognized him as Fred Grainger, the one he talked to from Glen Canyon.

Fred wore some slightly worn blue Dockers, a short sleeve button-down shirt, and a pair of walking shoes, and in general looked more comfortable than stylish. Fred was rumored to be in his early fifties. The one thing Grant knew was that Fred Grainger had been at Hoover Dam since before Grant joined the Bureau.

"Grant. We're glad you made it." Fred shook Grant's hand as he exited the car.

Grant couldn't stop the rebuke. "Why aren't the Nevada outlets dumping?"

Fred expected the question. "They won't let us yet. We're on hold. Come inside and I'll fill you in."

Grant wanted to argue, but instead followed Fred into the building. Fred led him down a set of stairs. As they descended, Fred started talking. "The mayor of Laughlin called the governor. So the governor came here and ―"

"The governor of Nevada is here?" Grant asked.

Fred nodded "Yeah. And he's a jerk."

They walked into the main lobby lined with pictures of the dam's construction and facts about how the dam operated. They walked past a chart showing water levels over the past thirty years. The last time Grant had been in the lobby, it was filled with tourists and kids. Fred led them into a small movie theater with the words 'The Story of Hoover Dam' written above the doorway. Inside the theater, a large conference table and chairs had been set up on the floor in front of the screen. Beyond it, the room elevated to auditorium seating. At least fifteen people, mostly men, were talking when Grant and Fred entered. After they entered, the conversations stopped. All eyes met Grant's.

Fred broke the silence. "This is Grant Stevens, from the Bureau in Denver."

A large man in a suit sitting at the end of the table stood. "Where's Commissioner Blackwell?"

Grant knew immediately he must be the governor. He carried a visible aura of authority. Everyone else in the room deferred to him. The governor looked as if he'd played in the NFL before going into politics. His shoulders and chest were huge, and the suit, although obviously expensive and custom fit, seemed out of place on his body style. His hair didn't have a strand out of place, making Grant wonder if he was preparing for a press conference. His entourage contrasted with the Hoover Dam personnel. The governor's people were all in expensive suits; the Bureau people were casual. It was as if the party invitations had neglected to mention proper attire. Grant suddenly felt underdressed for the role he was playing in his slacks and polo shirt.

Grant tried to respond confidently, but his voice cracked. "The commissioner was on his way to Kenya for a dam building symposium on the Tana river. I talked with him this morning. He's made emergency flight plans to return. He's probably on his way here as we speak."

The governor shook his head in disgust. "How inconvenient." He pointed at Grant. "So who's speaking for the Bureau in the meantime, you?"

Grant had never liked guys like this, who tried to intimidate everyone they met. He felt emotion building up inside. He took a step toward the governor. "Yeah. I speak for the Bureau. And who are you?" although he already knew the answer.

The guy took a step forward, obviously unaccustomed to being challenged. The governor's attitude reminded him of the commissioner. The governor grasped both lapels of the expensive suit in a posture of authority. "The name is Rally Jenkins. I'm the governor of Nevada."

Grant nodded his head as if he had just figured it out. He felt himself stepping over the line. It was bad enough that this man had gotten in the way of what needed to be done at Hoover, but the pompous attitude was too much. Grant cleared his throat and then looked straight at the governor. "So are you the one getting in the way of what needs to be done, holding up dumping the water?"

The governor didn't hesitate. "Damn right. I got a call from the mayor in Laughlin early this morning, saying he was told to evacuate everybody around Lake Mojave and Laughlin. He said you guys were going to open the gates and flood em out. When you started evacuating my cities without my permission, I had no choice but to get involved."

Grant nodded, then spoke as if he were talking to a child. "Do you happen to know why we need to open the gates Governor?"

"Sure, somebody blew up the Glen Canyon Dam. But that's over four hundred miles from here. My people need some time to ―"

Grant slammed his fist on the table "There isn't any time!" He saw a few in the room jump at the outburst. The governor himself, showed a moment of apprehension, before his eyes narrowed. Grant brought his voice back to normal. "Sit down and let me explain a few things." He motioned for them to be seated, and some did, but not the governor.

"I know everything I need to know."

Grant started talking before he could stop himself. He pointed at the governor. "I highly doubt that, governor. If you understood the situation, you would understand why we need to open the gates. Since you don't understand, you obviously don't know everything."

The governor's eyes burned.

Grant lowered his voice and removed the hostility from his tone. "Please sit down governor, and I'll try to explain a few things that I think will make a difference in how you feel."

The governor looked around at the others and finally settled into his seat.

Grant looked around at the group. "The governor is correct, the Glen Canyon Dam was blown up this morning. I have in my hand a study completed in 1998 by the Bureau regarding what would happen in just such an event." Grant held up the report that Julia had faxed him in the Gulfstream. "Computer modeling was done to determine the speed of the floodwater, depths, etc. Before I get into the details governor, how about you telling me approximately how much water was in Lake Powell?"

The governor answered with only a touch of apprehension. "Well, I know it's not near as big as Mead."

"Partially true governor. Lake Mead holds 9.3 trillion gallons and Lake Powell holds only 8.5 trillion."

The governor's mouth dropped.

Grant continued. "To put it in perspective, Lake Mead holds just over 2 years of Colorado River flow, and Lake Powell just under. All of you who think there's enough room left behind Hoover to catch the water in Lake Powell, raise your hands." Grant paused for effect. No hands went up. "So, before I start reading from this report, I want to make sure we all agree that Hoover is not going to hold all that water?"

Fred Grainger asked a question. "How long does the report say it will take for the water to get here?"

Grant thumbed through the report until he found the table. "The water will reach the end of Pierce Basin―" He looked up at the group "That's the beginning of Lake Mead." He continued reading. "at approximately 14 hours after the dam failure. Peak levels will occur 20 hours after the break, and be approximately two hundred fifty feet above normal."