Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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47

8:40 p.m. - Lake Powell, Utah

The Mastercraft merged back with the other boats entering Wahweap Canyon. Julie glanced back at the couple still sitting on the floor. The lady was sobbing uncontrollably and clutching her leg. Julie guessed the tears were not for the leg, but for how close they had come to losing their lives. The man sensed Julie's eyes and looked up. His eyes were also misty. He nodded thanks at Julie, and turned back to his wife. Julie looked back at the remains of the Glen Canyon Dam again. That had been too close.

With the water down over a hundred feet, the entrance to Wahweap felt like a canyon. The walls were narrow and steep, and Greg and the other boats had to slow to get through safely. Wahweap Bay was draining into the channel, and creating a current, but not nearly as strong as in the Narrows.

Only a few minutes later, the canyon opened into the wide expanse of Wahweap Bay. The water here was wide and calm. Greg and many of the other boats slowed and took a breather. Up ahead on the left were the buildings and docks of Wahweap Marina. On the right was Castle Rock, and even in the setting sun, Julie could see crowds of stranded boaters cresting the pass and hiking around the bay toward the marina.

CHAPTER 23

9:15 p.m. - Hoover Dam, Boulder, Nevada

Back in the visitor center, Grant felt like sleeping. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he left Denver a week ago. He checked his watch and added an hour for the time change. It was already 10:15 p.m. in Denver — past his bedtime. He imagined his wife getting ready for bed and putting on her worn flannel pajamas, which she wore year round, even in the summer. He detested those pajamas. They were the least sexy things he could imagine. But right now, he decided, they wouldn't bother him at all.

He walked over to the wall of windows in the visitor center and looked out at Hoover Dam. The lights on the canyon walls lit up the dam like daylight. The dam itself was buzzing with action. The trucks kept coming. The sandbag dike had grown steadily along the upstream side of the dam, now reaching almost ten feet high in some sections. At the current rate, they were on target to finish the upstream portion by 3 or 4 a.m. - just in time, based on the projection that the water would rise above the concrete dam somewhere between 6:00 and 9:00. But it would be close. Then the slower and more difficult task of building it up to fifteen feet would begin. Grant could not see the old man with the bullhorn on the dike, and guessed that he must have taken a break. Hopefully the stackers had learned something and a sandbag wouldn't be misplaced in his absence.

Fred walked up behind Grant while he was gazing out the window. "You look beat."

"Yeah, I think it just caught up to me."

"You want me to find you a room for a couple hours? That casino between here and Boulder City is only a few minutes away."

"There's no way I could sleep tonight, but thanks anyway."

It was quiet for a minute, while both men watched the action on the dam. Grant broke the trance and looked over at Fred. "You think it'll work?"

"What? The dam?" Fred hesitated, and rubbed his chin. "I guess that depends on your girl's estimates. If she's right about the water levels, sure, I think it'll hold. The old man definitely knows what he's doing with the sand bags."

They were both silent for a few moments, staring out the windows, before Fred smiled and spoke again. "They're calling it 'Hoover-Two', you know."

Grant turned, raising his eyebrows. "What, the dike? Who is?"

Fred pointed down at the dam. "I think the soldiers started it. But I heard 'Hoover-Two' in the visitor center a few minutes ago. It seems to be catching on."

Grant looked back at the dam. Hoover-Two. It seemed appropriate. A small dam built on top of the famous one below. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. He looked back at Fred. "Hoover-Two." He felt the words roll off his tongue. "I like it. Let's just hope Hoover-Two's legacy will be a success."

Fred nodded. "Yup. There's a lot riding on it, that's for sure."

Grant changed the subject. "What's been happening downstream?"

Fred glanced up. "Nothing yet. We know Lake Mojave has been rising about nine inches an hour since we blew the two spillways. Davis Dam's internal gates are open, but that won't keep up with the water we're dumping. They're supposed to open the spillways at Davis, but just like here, they won't run at full capacity until the water level rises. According to Shauna's calculations, that won't happen until a little after midnight."

Grant pondered the data. "Once her spillways are running at full tilt, Mojave should be able to hold her level, right?"

"Yeah. Theoretically."

Grant pursed his lips, trying to imagine the spillways at Davis Dam. "They've never been tested at full capacity, have they?"

Fred smiled. "Course not."

Grant smirked. "That would be too good to be true."

Fred shrugged. "We have to trust them. They were designed specifically to keep up with Hoover. The problem is, even assuming they work, the trouble will just move downstream. Lake Havasu will have to rise high enough for the water to reach the top of Parker Dam's spillways. Its internal gates aren't going to be able to keep up either. Both dams, Davis and Parker, will need their spillways flowing at full capacity to keep up with all the water we're dumping."

A thought kept nagging Grant. "How certain are we that Parker's spillways can really handle it? Isn't that just theoretical too?"

Fred rubbed his forehead. "Same story. None of the spillways have ever been tested at capacity." Fred turned toward Grant. "Why are you asking me all these questions? You work for the Bureau too."

Grant nodded. "My guys in Denver are all desk jockeys. You're out here in the real world. I was just curious what you think."

Fred showed a hint of satisfaction at Grant's remark. "If I were betting, and I am from Vegas, I'd bet on the Bureau's numbers. They may be desk jockeys today, but these three dams were all designed over fifty years ago. Those boys got out in the sun and got their hands dirty. They ran their calculations on slide rules. They checked their numbers, then checked them again. Yeah, I trust them."

Grant smiled. It had never occurred to him that the calculations were done by hand. Over the last fifteen years the Bureau had not done anything without modeling it on a computer first. If someone took all the computers away today, the Bureau would stop dead. They wouldn't know what to do. Grant had seen slide rules, but he didn't even know how to work one. Actually, Grant wasn't sure he could balance his checkbook anymore without a computer.

Fred looked at him. "What are you thinking?"

Grant shrugged. "Just that we're sitting here racking our brains, and the flood's not even here yet." Grant looked back out at the action on the dam and kept talking without looking at Fred. "If we're able to contain all this water in my little dam extension project — Hoover-Two," he corrected himself, "then all three sets of spillways will be running at full capacity for weeks. None of the three dam's spillways have ever been tested at full capacity for a minute, let alone weeks."

Fred spoke from behind Grant. "In 1983 when the water was high, only two feet of water went over the spillways at Hoover for sixty days — less than five percent of capacity. Even that almost ruined the spillways. I can't imagine what this is going to do."

Grant smiled. "Compared to what would happen if the water breaches Hoover, they're going to be happy to re-build the spillways after it's over."

Grant's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello."

"Grant, it's Howard."

Grant recognized the voice of his boss. His stomach turned. His boss was the last person he wanted to talk to. "Oh, hi Howard. How's Yellowstone?"

Howard spoke fast, obviously excited. "We've been driving around in the park all day, then we went out and ate. I hadn't heard any news. I flicked on the TV and… the Glen Canyon Dam — unbelievable. I called Cindy at home and she forwarded me to Julia. Julia told me that you're there handling it. I can't believe…" His voice tapered off.

Grant silently cursed the two secretaries for giving Howard his phone number. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Where are you? Page? Why didn't you call me?"

Grant hesitated. Actually, the thought of calling Howard had never occurred to him. Howard would have no idea what to do, and of course Grant didn't want the bureaucratic interference. He felt like he had plenty of obstacles without his boss questioning everything. "I'm at Hoover Dam in Veg-"

"I know where Hoover is. Why aren't you at Glen Canyon? Isn't that where the problem is?" Grant could already detect the condescending attitude.

Grant couldn't stop the defensiveness in his voice. "What'd you want me to do at Glen Canyon? The dam's gone."

"Well, what are you doing at Hoover?"

"We're getting ready for the flood; we're dumping as much water as possible to lower the lake." Grant decided not to bring up the part about dynamiting Hoover's spillways. "And we're building a dike on top of the dam to try to prevent overtopping." The phone went silent for a moment.

"Overtopping — you think that might happen?"

Grant talked down to him. "Yes, Howard, Hoover is going to get overtopped."

3

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