Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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Only after the first phase was done, sometime in the middle of the night, would they go back and extend the dike to its planned twenty-foot height and widen the base to the full width of the dam. And by building the dike in two phases, it gave them much more time, almost a day, before the water rose above the eight-foot first phase dike.

A man with a bullhorn moved along the dam, barking orders. "Overlap that one, soldier. That's it. Right to left. Yeah you." He pointed to someone placing a bag below him. "Butt it right up against the others or it'll be a weak spot. Yeah, pick it up and move it over. That's it. The stagger gives the dike strength."

Originally, Grant had expected to be in charge of the construction of the wall of sandbags, something he was not confident about, especially since he had never worked with sandbags before. However, the mayor told them about the man with the bullhorn, a retired engineer named Steve Alby, who lived in Las Vegas. Before he retired, Alby had actually been in charge of building sandbag dikes along the Mississippi for the Army Corp of Engineers. Grant had been more than willing to concede the responsibility to the old engineer who had arrived just before the trucks.

Grant watched as the old man trained the soldiers. He was incredible. He watched the placement of every sand bag. He barked orders through the bullhorn like an auctioneer. When the cops found him at his house a few miles south of the strip, he was working in his yard. They hadn't allowed him to change. So he was still dressed in denim shorts, a grimy white t-shirt, black tennis shoes with contrasting white socks, and a green camouflage hat, which he hadn't been wearing when he arrived. Grant guessed he had been given the hat by one of the soldiers.

When Grant first saw Alby, he wondered if they had made a mistake. The man seemed feeble in his movements and speech. Grant guessed the man was in his mid-sixties. He had short gray hair, bird legs, and a potbelly that peeked out from under his t-shirt. However, after they explained to Alby the goal of the next 24 hours, the man went right to work. The National Guard gave Alby a bullhorn, and as soon as the trucks started to arrive, he transformed from a lamb into a lion. It was obvious he had done this before. When Grant looked at him, he thought he could imagine a much younger Alby, dressed in a raincoat in pouring rain, helping farmers build dikes along the Mississippi to protect their farms and homes. Grant wanted to talk to him, to ask him some questions about the dike, but to interrupt him now would be like trying to talk to a conductor during a symphony.

When Grant looked back at the incoming trucks, he wondered if everything could happen in time. These bags came from the construction companies. The bags from the volunteers would come later. The empty bags being flown in were not expected to arrive in Las Vegas for an hour or more. To avoid needless chaos, a TV announcement calling for volunteers would not be made until after 9:00 p.m. In the meantime, eighteen sandbag locations had been chosen around the area, and police crews were roping off parking areas, making signs, ordering portable toilets, and generally making whatever other preparations they could think of before they were mobbed by thousands of volunteers.

So much could still go wrong. The extra bags could be late. It could take longer than planned to fill them. Traffic could affect their delivery to the dam. And what if the call for volunteers went unheeded? Grant worried more about the opposite: that they would be bombarded by crowds too large to manage. Even if the plan for sand bags worked, what if the Bureau's numbers were wrong? What if the water rose more than fifteen feet over Hoover? What if the water arrived early, before the dike was completed? Grant stared upstream. He tried to imagine the water coming toward him. He imagined a tidal wave roaring across Lake Mead. But that wasn't logical. No, there would be no waves on the lake. It was too big and would dissipate the flood. If anything went wrong, it would happen gradually, as the water rose inch by inch until it breached the dam. All violent waves, currents, or flooding would be limited to the Grand Canyon.

8:15 p.m. - Lake Powell, Utah

Julie saw Greg look at his watch. They had made good time from Warm Creek. Since most of the boats had gone the safer route, the lower canyon had not been nearly as crowded. The boats had taken advantage, spreading out and going full blast. The water was rough, but not unbearable. Greg had even leaned over at one point and commented to Julie that if they weren't in danger, it could have been fun, going full bore, racing other boats down through the narrows. Julie was still nervous, but she was glad she had come.

When they approached Antelope Point Marina, Greg slowed and pointed at the docks. "Do you want to stop?"

Julie noticed that the ramp was in fact isolated high on the rock wall, well out of reach of the boats. The current was moving very fast in the channel, but she was comfortable they could overcome the current and make the turn into Wahweap Bay. This wasn't as bad as she had feared. She shook her head and Greg accelerated back to speed and they continued.

The jaunt continued and after a while Julie wondered how far it would be. Finally, they rounded a bend and they could see a mile ahead to where the Colorado River split, the right being Wahweap, and the left, the dam. Julie watched nervously.

As they approached the fork, the water became rougher, and the Mastercraft jarred up and down loudly. Then Julie saw something that made her heart stop. A small green and white striped boat was running on the left edge of the pack of speeding boats. A man and a woman were in the boat. Julie saw the small boat was having trouble with the waves, actually coming clear of the water a couple of times. Then the driver lost control and the boat veered sharply to the left and rolled twice before stopping on its side. It filled with water. Julie scanned the surface for the two passengers and held her breath until both their heads bobbed to the surface. They looked to be at least thirty feet from their boat. Instantly, Julie knew that without intervention, they would both be sucked over the dam, and killed. But the risk to anyone who tried to help would be too great. Greg had seen it too and looked over at Julie.

Julie made the decision. She nodded vigorously.

Greg didn't hesitate. He weaved through the boats to the left of them, and headed for the two people in the water. The current was already dragging them around the corner and when Julie caught sight of them, she could see the Glen Canyon Dam visitor center on the hill behind them. Although it was almost a mile away, it didn't look far enough. At the rate of the current, they would be pulled past the dam in a minute. Greg looped behind the two, and drove right between them.

"Throw them something!" he yelled.

Julie, now panicky, ran to the back of the boat and started pulling the water-ski rope out of a small compartment. She looked downstream and saw what remained of the Glen Canyon Dam, the broken concrete protruding from the cliffs on both sides. She willed herself to ignore it, and threw the tangled rope toward the woman. The coils of rope landed right on her head. The woman began pulling herself hand over hand toward the Mastercraft. Julie pulled on the other end. In the meantime the man had swum to the back of the boat and was trying to climb in. He had difficulty with the ladder before finally climbing up and falling awkwardly into the boat. Julie had pulled the woman to the back, but the woman made no move to climb in.

"My leg," she said, her face showing intense pain.

"Hurry!" Greg urged.

Julie lunged toward the man on the floor who was trying to stand up. She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. She looked at the woman again, then at Greg. "Her leg is hurt. We're going to have to lift her." Greg left the steering wheel for a second to look at the woman, then returned quickly to the controls.

"Flip her around so her back is against the boat. It's easier."

Julie remembered once when she was too tired to climb in the boat after water-skiing. Greg and Paul had lifted her in that way.

She and the man climbed out on the platform on the rear deck and they each grabbed an arm. Julie saw that the dam was approaching much too quickly.

"Ready?" the man said.

Julie nodded and they both pulled. The lady was heavier than Julie expected and Julie lost her balance. She had no choice but release her grip. The woman slipped back in the water.

"Can you do this?" the man asked nervously.

Julie nodded. She had just underestimated. As she prepared for the next pull, she saw what looked like a group of policeman up on the right shore, near the dam. They were waving frantically at the boaters.

Julie braced herself and looked at the man. He nodded and they both pulled hard. The lady came up out of the water, and all three of them fell into the boat. She felt the Mastercraft accelerate immediately. She pulled herself up to her knees.

Greg had the boat going full blast and was heading up the river, but they were only gaining ground slowly. When Julie looked back, she saw that they had been close enough that the wake was now rolling over the remnants of the dam. She looked up on the canyon walls and saw that the policemen were clapping and thrusting their fists into the air. Julie crawled forward and hugged her husband's leg.

8:30 p.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona

David was out of the raft again. They all were. The water had risen to where the canyon spread out. There were finally flat places to stand. That was the good news. The bad news was that where they had been in a protected canyon before, if the water rose any higher, they would now be exposed. And it was very dark. Deep in the canyon, the sun had set long ago. The last remaining rays touched the west-facing rocks thousands of feet above them. The river, which an hour before had been expanding from its channel, now enjoyed free rein to flow where it wanted. Although it was getting too dark to be sure, David guessed the big, black expanse of water to be a half mile across.