Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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The helicopter banked and the view of Hoover Dam rotated behind him, lost from sight. Up ahead, the clear night and partial moon allowed a haunting view into the dark chasm below of Black Canyon. Occasional sparkles of light reflected off the Colorado River deep down in the canyon and showed the path carved by the river millions of years before. Eventually, as they passed the canyons and surrounding hills, the landscape opened up and began to flatten out. From here to the Gulf of California was all flat desert. Up ahead, far in the distance, Grant could make out a grouping of lights. He and the pilot both wore a set of headphones with a microphone extending from the left side. Grant shouted into his headset microphone, "Is that Laughlin?" He could hear his loud voice in the headphones at the same time.

The pilot, who had not yet spoken, responded, "Yeah, the first set of lights are from North Laughlin. The lights behind are from South Laughlin and Bullhead City, Arizona, which is below the dam; those casinos are on the banks of the Colorado River."

Grant quickly determined that if the Davis Dam broke, he would not want to be staying in South Laughlin.

The pilot and helicopter had come from one of the many Las Vegas tour companies, which were available for charter twenty-four hours a day. They flew Las Vegas visitors to a multitude of places including the Vegas skyline, Hoover Dam, Laughlin, and even the Grand Canyon. Fred said they were extremely flexible and would fly you almost anywhere you would pay them to go. For a little extra, negotiated by Fred, they had agreed to pick Grant up at Hoover and drop him right in the parking lot at Davis Dam.

Although it was too dark to tell, Grant wondered how much flooding would be occurring right now in the upper reaches of Lake Mojave. With all the gates and spillways open at Hoover, the flow down the Colorado into Lake Mojave dwarfed anything in the history of the lake.

For a moment Grant's thoughts wandered randomly, not dwelling on any one subject. Then he thought about the perpetrators of the two bombings, something he had been too busy to think much about. The bomb at Glen Canyon Dam this morning had been easy enough to explain. The dam had been considered a foreign terrorist target for years by the federal government due to its massive size and social prominence. Additionally, the environmentalists hated it passionately, mostly due to Glen Canyon being buried under Lake Powell. Others claimed the Glen Canyon Dam was not financially feasible, and accused the Bureau of cooking the books to get it approved in the first place.

But why Davis Dam? Most people had never even heard of it, including FBI Phil who was from Southern California. It certainly didn't seem prominent enough to attract foreign terrorists. Why then would they want to blow up something no one had ever heard of? And as far as he knew, Lake Mojave didn't bury any environmental treasures like Lake Powell did.

He wondered briefly about whether they would blow Davis to kill someone downstream in Laughlin, but if that were the case, why Glen Canyon earlier that morning? Theoretically, it was possible that the casino owners in Las Vegas would want to destroy the casinos in Laughlin to reduce competition, but the idea seemed far-fetched. In his estimation, blowing up the Glen Canyon Dam would be much more difficult than Davis, even though the attempt at Davis hadn't been successful. No, Davis had to be part of a bigger overall plan. And if so, what could be their primary goal? If Grant were a terrorist, and had succeeded in taking out the Glen Canyon Dam, he would have celebrated and retired. Glen Canyon was the mother-lode of controversial dams. What more could they want?

Grant concluded that he did not have all the pieces to the puzzle, which simultaneously convinced him that more puzzle pieces would be forthcoming. In other words, more dams would be blown. He was now certain of it. They were now dealing with a serial bomber. A heightened level of anxiety settled over him. This wasn't over yet. Where would the next strike occur? He hoped that Phil and his FBI team arrived at Davis soon. They needed to talk. In fact, they needed to do more than investigate. They needed to beef up the security at more potential targets. If only he knew what those targets were.

The pilot pulled Grant out of his thoughts. "You can see the dam right up there."

Normally a statement like that was accompanied by a pointed finger or motion of the hand, but the pilot's hands were busy on the controls. Grant couldn't miss the dam a couple of miles away, completely lit up with strong lights, just as Hoover was.

11:50 p.m. - Davis Dam, Nevada

The construction guy stood waiting for Grant when the helicopter landed. Blaine, the security man, stood next to him. The construction guy introduced himself as Reese Burke and drove a four-door, four-wheel-drive pickup that looked remarkably like the one driven by the demolition guy at Hoover earlier in the day. Reese had a gut that wouldn't quit, making it impossible to tuck in the front of his shirt, and his pants hung very low, making Grant wonder how they stayed up at all. Grant made a mental note to look away if Reese bent over.

The construction man Reese accused the Laughlin cops of scaring him to death, waking him by banging on his front door. It had taken him another twenty minutes to gather his senses, decide what to do, and raise enough men to get things moving. Five dump trucks were loaded and en route, as well as two bulldozers and a front loader. The five trucks were expected any minute.

Grant looked around and saw that generally things looked normal at Davis Dam. To an unsuspecting eye, the dike looked normal and unharmed. The concrete waterworks gave no hint of the water building up behind them. He was anxious to get up on the dam and inspect the damage, but was delayed again when another helicopter approached and landed in the parking lot. Covering his eyes to shield the dust stirred up by the chopper, Grant saw a woman wearing blue FBI coveralls jump out, crouch, and run toward them. She carried a large briefcase. The helicopter, from another Las Vegas tour company, took off immediately, climbing back into the night sky.

After waiting a second for the noise to abate from the retreating chopper, Grant stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

"Special Agent Susan Williams," she responded. Grant noticed that her handshake felt firm, like a man's, which was surprising since her features were noticeably feminine. She had a plain but pretty face without blemish, long brown hair, and probably barely tipped the scales at a hundred pounds.

"You're the explosives specialist that Phil talked about?"

She nodded.

He glanced at his watch. "Wow. You got here quick."

Her gritted teeth showed her disapproval. "Phil told me you wouldn't wait for us, and that if I wanted to see the bomb site, I needed to get here before you. That didn't give me much time."

Grant felt the resentment and took note to walk on eggshells with her. "Well, I appreciate the effort." He pointed up at the crater on Davis dam. "Let's get up there and look around. We probably have about a half hour before Reese here," He motioned toward the construction man who was smiling broadly at the FBI woman. "will have bulldozers and trucks trampling the whole area."

The agent nodded anxiously. Grant turned toward the dam and had actually taken a couple of uncertain steps before he heard the security guard, Blaine, from behind.

"You can drive up over there."

Grant turned back in time to see Blaine point at where the highway climbed the west side of the dam.

Reese motioned toward his pickup. "Hop in. I'll take you and the girl up."

Grant thought he detected a brief look of resentment in the agent's expression at Reese addressing her as a girl, but it was gone before he could be sure.

Before she walked to the truck, she turned to Blaine. "Which one of you saw the bomber?"

Blaine's eyes went down as if he might be in trouble. "It was me. But he looked pretty official when…" His words trailed off.

"Come up there with us," she told him forcefully. "I need to ask you some questions."

Blaine nodded. "Sure."

Grant and Special Agent Williams reached Reese's truck at the same time and Grant went out of his way to offer her the front seat. She acted slightly irritated, but Grant thought he also detected a touch of appreciation as she consented and climbed in the front. The security guard climbed in the back with Grant. Reese had no sooner started the truck when she turned abruptly.

"Wait." She was looking in the back seat toward the security guard. "I need a shovel."

Reese slammed the truck in gear and took off, ignoring her. "Relax. I got shovels in the back." Grant didn't think Reese's mannerisms were earning him any points with the FBI.

When the truck leveled onto the crest of Davis Dam, Grant saw the water level was alarmingly high. The huge spotlights lit up the water for a hundred feet or so from the dam. Grant couldn't help thinking about Hoover Dam, just sixty-five miles upstream, dumping water at record levels. He looked out the other window, down the 200-foot-high gravel embankment. Although he knew the dike's height, looking down it at night made it seem much taller. He straightened up and looked ahead between Reese and Agent Williams and saw the large crater, just ahead.

"You see it, right?" he said to Reese.

"See what?" Reese joked, although none of the passengers laughed.

Agent Williams leaned forward, grasping the dashboard to get a better look. "Don't get too close. Stop about here." She didn't look at Reese, but kept her eyes on the crater.