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Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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Grant continued. "Well, I think we finally have a plausible motive for our bomber."

"Do we ever," Lloyd said.

Grant felt funny. They had just cracked the case wide open. The Colorado River bomber was an environmentalist. He was sure of it. Now the FBI would know where to look. They could track him down. But Grant didn't feel as good as he should, and he sensed that the others didn't either. It had been easier when they thought the bomber wanted to destroy, maim, or kill. Now the motive turned out to be restoring a wildlife habitat. Now what? Grant knew what they had to do, but his feelings had changed.

"So what's next?" asked Agent Williams.

Grant considered. "First, we need to tell Phil."

Agent Williams nodded.

Grant pointed south. "Then somebody needs to contact Mexico again, and let them know what's happening."

Grant knew what else they needed to do. Subconsciously, he'd known it all along. "And finally, we need to start making arrangements to go into Mexico. With all the water that's headed downstream, the Colorado River Delta is going to be wet again, after over fifty years. And I have a feeling our environmentalist is going to be there to celebrate it."

3:00 p.m. - Palo Verde Dam, California

The helicopter blew dust in all directions as it lifted off from the Palo Verde Diversion Dam. Grant caught a final glimpse of Don Simpson from above. The head of the Palo Verde Irrigation District still looked nervous. He had been extremely anxious when he found out they were leaving. But, all things considered, things were fine at Palo Verde. The water levels had been slowly dropping since peak, and the rate at which the dike was washing away had slowed. The farmers were lucky, especially compared to what might have been if they had not intentionally broken their dam. Grant had tried to reassure Don of that fact before leaving. Not that Grant could blame him. Many of the farmers would hold Don personally responsible for the dike's failure. Blame waited on both sides of tough decisions.

As the helicopter followed the river downstream, Grant marveled at the way the river had changed, transformed from a calm green to a rushing brown. Sometimes, when it left its banks and spread out, it almost reminded him of the upper Mississippi, or maybe the Missouri. That probably made sense as the upper Mississippi averaged a little over 600,000 cubic feet per second, and for the next two months, the Colorado would be very close to that.

Soon after the helicopter left Palo Verde, Grant saw a small town shimmering beyond the countless grids of farm land, about five miles ahead.

"What town is that up there?" Grant asked.

"That would be the thriving metropolis of Blythe, California," Lloyd responded.

There were many words Grant could use to describe Blythe, but neither thriving nor metropolis came to mind. He looked at his watch and noted it was after 3:00 p.m. "Shauna," he said into the headphones, "how long before the water gets to Imperial Dam?"

"5:45," she responded immediately.

"All right, that's almost three hours; we have some time." Grant pointed ahead to Blythe. "Lloyd, head over there. Let's see if we can find a burger or sandwich place with a vacant lot next to it."

Lloyd looked over at Grant, surprised. "You want me to land the helicopter next to a fast food joint?"

"Sure, unless you can fly through the drive-thru. I haven't had anything since breakfast, and I'm starving."

Lloyd grimaced "It'll blow dust all―"

"I'll buy," Grant added.

"Why didn't you say that to start with?" The pilot smiled broadly.

"I'm in," Shauna said, from behind.

"Me, too," said the FBI agent.

Lloyd covered the five miles in a couple of minutes. "How about that one on the other side of the freeway? There's a whole field to land in behind it."

Grant saw it at the same time. "That'll work."

"I was kinda hoping for something cold, like a deli," Agent Williams said.

Lloyd glanced back at her. "They've got ice."

When the helicopter landed, Grant opened the door and hopped out. Turning back toward Lloyd he cupped his hands. "What do you want?"

Lloyd hung his headphones on the hook and opened his own door. "I'm coming too."

Grant saw that both women were already out. He instinctively crouched to avoid the rotors and jogged out from under the helicopter, meeting Lloyd on the other side.

As they walked across the sand toward the parking lot, Grant noticed a family standing next to their car. By the way they were staring, he guessed that helicopters did not often land next to hamburger places in Blythe.

Grant caught up to the pilot. "You could have kept the engine running, then we could have left when I got your food."

Lloyd held out his hands. "Driving with a cheeseburger and fries in my five-speed jeep is tricky, but if I were to try it in the helicopter, well let's just say you guys would be better off watching from a safe distance."

Grant nodded, realizing suddenly that both the pilots' hands were always occupied in a helicopter.

After they ordered and were seated, they ate in silence, all of them stuffing food in their mouths.

"Good idea," said Lloyd, with a mouth full of french fries.

Grant nodded a response. He glanced out the window and saw two men standing near the helicopter, looking it over. He swallowed a mouthful of food, and motioned to Lloyd. "Should I worry about the Lookie Lou's?"

Lloyd glanced up, then responded while still chewing. "Nah, people are always checking out the choppers. They won't hurt anything." He swallowed and rolled his eyes toward Agent Williams. "Besides, if they try something, the FBI here can put a bullet in 'em."

Agent Williams made a thumbs-up sign with her hand.

Grant swallowed, took a swig of his soda, and looked at the agent. "So what did Phil say?" Grant knew she called her boss just before they left the Palo Verde Diversion Dam, but he hadn't heard the result.

She took her time and finished chewing before responding. "It's hard to tell for sure what Phil's thinking, but it seems like he agrees with your delta theory."

"What about Mexico?"

She shook her head. "That, he was very clear about. We are not to cross the border. He's going to charter a jet from Hoover Dam to either Yuma or El Centro. He said he'd call the Mexicans while he waited for the jet."

"They can't get a jet from Hoover Dam," said Lloyd through a mouthful of french fries, "but a sea plane might work."

Agent Williams glared at Lloyd. "I know that. They're using the Boulder City Airport."

Grant laughed, which caused the agent to glare at him too.

After a few minutes, when they were done with their hamburgers, both women excused themselves and walked to the restroom. Lloyd helped himself to both women's extra french fries. Grant glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot.

"What kind of paperwork would we need to fly into Mexico?"

Lloyd stopped chewing. "Didn't the FBI just tell us not to cross the border?"

"I'm just asking a hypothetical question."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. "Well, in that case, if we just wanted to fly over the border and look around, kind of an aerial tour of the delta, then nothing."

Grant glanced around again. "Nothing? No permits?"

Lloyd shook his head. "As long as we don't try to land."

"Good."

Lloyd held up a finger. "There are other issues, besides the Mexicans and pissing off the Feds. I don't think my chopper's insured in Mexico."

Grant hadn't considered insurance. "How much would it cost to replace?"

"More than I'll make the rest of my life," Lloyd said.

"How about we worry about that problem later?"

Lloyd lowered his voice. "We'll need fuel."

"Can you get fuel in Yuma?"

Lloyd nodded. "Sure."

Grant lowered his voice. "All right, when we get to Imperial Dam, you take off and get some fuel."

"Won't it look suspicious, leaving you guys at the dam?"

Grant saw movement in Lloyd's eyes and looked over his shoulder to see both women exiting the restrooms.

Grant rushed his words. "Doesn't it need gas anyway?"

Lloyd winked.

"Hey, what are you guys whispering about?" said Agent Williams.

Grant stammered, embarrassed about getting caught.

Lloyd filled the silence. "We were just talking about how flattering those FBI coveralls look."

Both women looked at Grant, not Lloyd, and he felt his face flush.

Lloyd smiled. "No. That's not what I meant. What we were saying is that they're very practical in this hot weather, especially if you don't wear anything under them."

Grant saw Shauna gasp while Agent Williams looked over at her, then both women looked at Grant again, although this time Grant sensed that they were not sure whether to believe Lloyd.

Agent Williams shifted her look to Lloyd. "Are you messing with me?"

Lloyd shook his head. "No, ma'am. I have a policy to never mess with anybody who's packing." He pointed at her forty caliber Glock.

Grant wondered if Lloyd was making it worse, but the pilot didn't seem nervous. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. During the standstill, Lloyd reached over and stole a couple more of the uneaten fries from the special agent.

She stared hard at him. It made Grant nervous. Finally her expression broke, and a slight smile appeared. "You touch one more of my fries, and I'll gun you down right here."