Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River

by Gary Hansen

  On Saturday, after picking up the rented houseboat, they had motored for hours upstream from the marina, towing the Mastercraft behind. They passed numerous canyons, but Greg wanted to go farther upstream where there were fewer boats. No one had objected. The leisurely tour up the lake had been relaxing. It gave the six of them time to catch up.

  Paul and Erika Sanders had been the Crawfords' best friends for years. They met when both couples lived in Irvine, California where Greg and Paul worked as computer programmers. After being introduced by their husbands, Julie and Erika connected immediately and the friendship was sealed. When they first met, they were newlyweds, but over the years the Crawfords added two boys and the Sanders one girl.

  Greg's brother, Max, was almost ten years older than him. Max and Darlene lived in Las Vegas with their three kids, the oldest being a teenage boy who was going to come with them to Lake Powell, but ended up going to Boy Scout camp instead.

  For this trip all three couples had farmed their children out to friends and family. LakePowell would be a vacation away from runny noses and diapers, at least until the kids got a little older. Besides, it was sort of a reunion for the two younger couples, the first time they had reunited since Greg and Julie moved from California to Phoenix in February.

  During Saturday's trip upstream, Julie and Erika shared pictures of their kids and recounted stories since their separation. Paul and Greg talked work and sports as if they had never been separated. The older couple, Max and Darlene, both avid readers, dove into novels from a whole box they had brought. Julie told Erika about life in Phoenix and how it was different from OrangeCounty.

  All three couples had looked forward to the week at LakePowell. When Julie first met Greg, he already had a ski boat. It was a lifestyle that she readily adopted. Likewise, Paul and Erika were easily converted, and the couples had vacationed together on every body of water that allowed water ski boats within three hundred miles of Irvine. Occasionally, Max and Darlene came with them. Once a year, they planned a big trip, and the last three years it had been LakePowell. LakePowell was a water-skier's paradise. At almost two hundred miles long, with thousands of miles of shoreline, isolated canyons, and red rock cliffs, it felt like a different planet.

  Julie tightened her grip on the rope and cut back to the left. This time she did not stop at the wake, but cut through it. On the left side she cut back and forth, each time gradually increasing her aggression. After a while, she felt the muscles burn in her back and arms. She knew she could push harder, but then again, they had the whole week ahead, so she tossed the rope into the air and coasted to a stop. As her body sank down in the water, she leaned back, floating on her back and letting her head rest in the water. She took a moment and looked up in the blue sky at a solitary white cloud. It reminded her of an oversized bed, covered with white blankets, and big pillows. Something was perched on top of the bed, a harp maybe. Yes, that was what it was.

  Julie deserved this. Like the thousands of other boaters spread out in the countless canyons of LakePowell, Julie Crawford intended to make the most of her getaway. She would relax and purge all her stress. What else was there to do?

  * * *

  3:00 p.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona

  "RIGHT SIDE PADDLE! RIGHT SIDE PADDLE!" Keller screamed from behind. "Come on right side, we need you. DAVID, HELP OUT!"

  It took all David's willpower to consciously reach his paddle ahead and grab more of the cold frothy water. His strength was gone and his hands were shaking. Where was Judy? A second ago she had been paddling just in front of him. Then the river had snatched her from the raft and swallowed her. How long could she hold her breath? Maybe she was dead. David blamed himself for organizing the trip, something he would now regret for the rest of his life.

  "DAVID, PADDLE!"

  He pulled hard on the oar and the raft slowly came back around into position, although he felt sure Sam, right behind, was doing most of the work.

  Keller yelled from behind. "That's it, Judy. Hang on. We'll get you in a second."

  David caught a glance of a bobbing head and a blue life jacket somewhere to his right, but he didn't dare look. His right foot, the one hanging in the low-forties water, was freezing cold as he straddled the right pontoon of the silver raft. He couldn't imagine how cold Judy felt. He hoped she was okay. He caught another glimpse of her, and relief warmed his body, but he kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing instead at the next wave downstream. Suddenly, her head popped up next to the boat. Before he could blink, Keller reached over him and grabbed her, dragging her up into the boat. He abandoned her immediately and resumed his position in the back. Judy sputtered some water, coughed, and amazingly looked up and . . . smiled!

  The raft rolled through the next wave and this time stayed nose forward. Nobody fell out. David looked down as Judy scrambled to grab onto something. She looked rattled, but physically okay. David could feel his confidence coming back. The muscles in his arms began to respond again. He braced for another big one just ahead.

  "Keep it straight, guys and girls," Keller reminded them from behind. "Right side paddle. Left side paddle."

  David felt the boat drop as the hole sucked them down. They shot back up again, climbing the wave, then hesitated, almost stalling, then at the last minute the current grabbed the raft and pulled it over the top. He felt the raft bend as it crested. With the big rapids behind them, they slid through a series of smaller waves without incident.

  After the river calmed, David finally got a chance to catch his breath. He willed his heart to slow down. The shaking in his hands gradually resided. Keller maneuvered the raft to snag Judy's paddle, which had followed the raft through the rapids. Afram reached out and grabbed it.

  "Judy, you okay?" Keller reached up and patted her on the blue life jacket. "That's the best ride we've got out of Sapphire in a long time."

  Judy finally spoke. "Awesome."

  Everybody started to laugh. She shivered.

  Sapphire Rapid, although not the biggest, was the wildest they had encountered so far on the trip, definitely the first one where someone fell out. One minute they were in perfect shape, the next the front of the boat went right. With the boat sideways, the next wave almost flipped them. The rapid was littered with truck-sized boulders scattered in the middle of the river. The canyon walls climbed steeply on both sides, but the texture was all boulders, apparently from eons of rockslides. Sapphire Rapid was located at mile 101 of the Grand Canyon. David had learned that river miles in the Grand Canyon were measured downstream from Lee's Ferry, the last place where boats could get access to the river, and just fifteen miles downstream from the Glen Canyon Dam and LakePowell.

  Sapphire was one of the jewels, a series of rapids named after gemstones. They included Crystal, Agate, Sapphire, Turquoise, Ruby, and Serpentine. They stretched from mile 98 to mile 106. Crystal was rated the most advanced, and was generally considered one of the best rapids in the Grand Canyon. But it was Sapphire that pulled Judy out of the boat, and almost capsized them.

  Monday was the group's sixth day on the river with Colorado River Foam, a white water group David found on the Internet. There were two rafts in the company, six paddlers in each raft, plus the guide, Keller, who mostly steered and barked orders from behind. Their boat was made up of David's group of five and George, who came with the group of six in the other boat.

  David's group of five included himself, Judy, Sam, Becky, and Afram. They worked together in El Segundo, California, just minutes from LAX, and had been planning this trip for almost a year. To get reservations to run the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon during peak season usually required well over six months notice. David had never heard of Colorado River Foam, but he saw the opening and grabbed it. Some of his co-workers had tried to book a trip the summer before but started too late to find anything.

  After Sapphire, the river turned calm for the next few miles. The calm periods gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, get a drink or a sna
ck, relax, and enjoy the scenery. The intermissions between rapids also gave them a chance to talk.

  Afram turned toward Judy. "We thought we lost you. I only saw you bob a couple of times. Were you scared?"

  Judy nodded. "Every time I went under, I wondered if I would ever come back up, but just when I thought I was going to die, I'd pop up. Now I know why Keller makes us wear these life jackets."

  Everybody laughed nervously. David wondered if the others worried like he did, that she might have drowned.

  Keller, constantly the boss, made the situation a teaching opportunity. "That happened because, the boat got out of shape. As long as the boat hits the wave head on, we're usually okay."

  "Why only usually?" Sam asked from behind David.

  Keller motioned downstream. "Hey, the river has a mind of its own. Sometimes we hit the wave perfectly with both sides paddling, and still get sucked down, pulled under, and spit out. Just wait, the best stuff is yet to come at LavaFalls."

  "I can hardly wait," Judy said, climbing back into her position in front of David. "Bring it on."

  Afram was shaking his head. "You are one psycho chick."

  "She's got the right attitude," Keller said, pointing at Judy. "You guys paid your money. You might as well enjoy it."

  David laughed. For a moment he had forgotten this trip was supposed to be fun. The first few days on the river had been easy, no real rapids, just a relaxing drift down the canyon. But today was different, multiple series of big rapids culminating in nearly capsizing and losing Judy. It had scared him. He realized the river now intimidated him. To begin having fun again, he needed to change his attitude. He looked across at Afram who was laughing to himself about something. He looked back at Sam and Becky who seemed more concerned with each other than the river. Even Judy, if he had to describe her, seemed more excited than scared, as if she had just completed her first sky dive or bungee jump. He seemed to be the only one freaked out.

  David willed himself to relax. He had organized this trip. It was his idea. Besides, they weren't even halfway done yet. They had a week to go. He forced himself to remember the way they had looked forward to the trip, the nights spent camping on the beach, the lazy days floating. He remembered craving the rapids. The memory was like the clouds parting and the sun breaking through. He would enjoy this trip. No, he would love it. It was just a river, and thousands ran it every year. Then, just when David started to relax, he was jerked out of his thoughts.

  "Get ready, rafters," Keller yelled. "Another jewel. This one is called Turquoise. It doesn't look too bad, but last year it flipped us. Right side paddle! Left side paddle!"

  * * *

  5:00 p.m. - Grand Canyon (North Rim), Arizona.

  The man reached the crest of the long hike at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. He turned and looked across to the South Rim on the other side, and down to the river below. The eight-mile trek from the river left him both winded and exhilarated. Spending a night in the canyon before he started his quest had been a great idea. There was a good possibility he would not survive to do it again. And even if he did, it was unlikely that he would be free to hike around in the Grand Canyon. No, this was almost certainly his last hike up the canyon, and he had enjoyed it tremendously. He had taken his time, stopping often to look at plants and the panoramic views. As he envisioned, the time had strengthened his resolve to do what he had to do.

  The only difficult part had been seeing the other hikers. Would they be able to get out in time? He had not foreseen his concern for others. They were similar to him. Not as knowledgeable, of course, especially about the politics and environmental damage caused by the dams. But like him, they loved the canyon, and the river. Many of them were environmentalists like himself.

  Surprisingly, he had been unable to make eye contact with them, and had avoided interaction when possible. Killing individuals was an unfortunate outcome of what he had to do. He was uncomfortable with it, and wished it were not necessary. Or if it was necessary, why did it have to be other environmentalists, instead of the bureaucrats who built the dams and screwed up the river? He would feel much less guilt about killing them. A scene played in his mind where a giant wave of water washed over the top of a large yacht, while dozens of bureaucrats on deck raised their arms to fend off the water and their ultimate death. That scene felt good. Unfortunately, the politicians were in Washington, not on a yacht in the river. It was his people down by the river.

  He likened himself to a general sending his soldiers to battle. He hopes they all will live, takes every possible precaution, but knows inevitably some will die. He knew exactly how this great responsibility felt. It was a heavy burden.

  Finally, unable to enjoy the scenery any longer, he turned and walked into the parking lot. When he reached his pickup, he removed his backpack and laid it carefully in the bed of the truck, careful not to jar the detonators. The truck was a late-model, three-quarter-ton white Chevrolet Silverado pickup. He rummaged in one of the side pockets of the backpack and found his keys. After opening the door, he transferred the backpack to the front, and climbed in. He grabbed a fresh t-shirt out of the bag on the floor and changed out of the sweaty one he had worn in the canyon.

  With a twist of the key, he started the truck and backed out. As he drove to the end of the line of parked cars, he was afforded one more glimpse of the canyon. He slowed. The view was awe-inspiring. He never tired of it. He wondered how different it would look in the morning. He had a long drive ahead, so he resisted the temptation to stay for an extended look. Instead, he turned and headed north toward the exit.

  Tonight would be a marathon. There was much to accomplish. Many things could go wrong. If everything proceeded as planned, the Grand Canyon would never be the same. He would do something that environmentalists would talk about for decades. The Colorado River would run wild in the canyon once more. His spine tingled at the thought. Exiting the parking lot, he accelerated up to speed.

  * * *

  5:30 p.m. - Denver, Colorado

  Grant walked in from the garage, slammed the door, and threw his briefcase on the couch. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he walked down the hallway toward his bedroom.

  His wife Melanie poked her head out of their son's room. She looked concerned. Doors were almost never slammed at the Stevens' home. "What's wrong?"

  Grant gritted his teeth. "Guess."

  She looked confused.

  "What've I been preparing for for weeks?" he added.

  Her face showed shock. She held both her hands up to her face. "Kenya?"

  He didn't say anything. He walked past her into the bedroom where he removed his shirt and threw it at the hamper.

  She followed him into the bedroom and put her hands on her hips. "What happened? They can't just take that away from you. What about your vacation?" She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

  He grabbed a worn t-shirt from a drawer and pulled it over his head. "Oh, the Bureau'll reimburse my personal expenses for the vacation."

  She shrugged. "Well, at least . . ." Her voice tapered off.

  At 38, his wife Melanie was still a beautiful woman. He could see the compassion in her eyes. Her face, always her greatest asset, had stayed young over the eighteen years of marriage. Her eyes twinkled, she had perfect teeth, and you had to look close to see the grays mixed in with her blond hair.

  She grabbed his shoulder. "Who decided this? Is this Howard's doing?"

  "It's hard to tell." He kicked off his shoes. "He's the one who told me." He talked while removing his slacks and replacing them with a pair of worn Levis. "He told me Roland decided that Howard couldn't be in charge with everyone else gone. Howard said they made him take vacation."

  She smiled and reached up to hug him. "So they're leaving you in charge? That's good. Isn't it?"

  Grant glared at her. "In charge of what? That's the whole point of Kenya. There's nothing to do here." He pointed east as if Kenya were only a couple miles away. "There are going to be eng
ineers there, real engineers with real projects. I was going to work with the Chinese from Three Gorges." He pressed his fingers into his forehead, rubbing up and down.

  She reached around his waist and pulled him close. "Look, I know how disappointed you are." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "But this could end up being a good thing for you."

  He rolled his eyes at his wife--the eternal optimist.

  She jerked him closer and raised one eyebrow, mimicking John Belushi. "They sent Howard away so he wouldn't bother you. Maybe they're on to him."

  Grant shook his head. "Maybe it was Howard's idea and he's blaming it on Roland." He pulled away from her and headed back toward the family room.

  She followed, still talking. "Why don't you call Roland and find out?"

  He stopped and turned around. "Yeah, right."

  "Why not?" she asked.

  His wife thought he could fix anything just by talking to the right person. She had been out of the workforce too long. In business, some things were intentionally not communicated. "I'm not calling Roland."

  He walked into the family room and grabbed the remote, then headed for the lazy-boy. After pushing back, he closed his eyes. Melanie wanted him to get rid of the chair, but over the years it had worn into the exact shape of his body. The feeling was one of comfort and security. In that chair, he could deal with anything life threw at him.

  "Well, one advantage," Melanie said carefully, "is that now we can use the week of vacation for the family."

  The last thing he wanted to talk about was where to vacation instead of Africa. "Whatever," he responded without opening his eyes.

  "Isn't there someplace else you want to go?"

  Why was she doing this to him? He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hmm. How about we go to Australia, spend some time in the outback checking out crocodiles? We could hit the Great Barrier Reef while we're there. Hey I know, how about Mount Everest? We could fly into Nepal, then--"