After the limousine drove away from the entrance, Debroux's nerves failed him and he almost became physically ill. Ten minutes later, the driver pulled into a secluded section of a village and stopped the car. Debroux jumped out and freed Shayhidi from the steamer trunk.
When the limousine again entered the road, Shayhidi picked up the car phone and called a Paris-based jet charter company. He used his corporate account to secure a jet but gave a different name for the passenger list. While Debroux fretted and drummed his fingers, Shayhidi made other business and travel arrangements as they continued the long drive to the Aeroport de Lyon Bron, France.
When the limousine arrived at the Transair FBO, a Falcon 900EX corporate jet was waiting on the ramp. While Shayhidi's luggage was being loaded into the Falcon, he brushed past the pilots and boarded the plane. He gave the attractive young flight attendant a sardonic smile and took a seat in the back of the luxurious jet.
He did not bother to pay for the leased limousine or to thank his friend from Princeton. For Shayhidi, life was all about himself. Nothing and no one else mattered, especially the expendable people who stood in obedient readiness, awaiting his command or wish.
Promptly at 6:30 A. M., Jackie and Scott took a taxi to the airport. They loaded their things in the Caravan and took off for nearby Lake Mead. The day was clear and the morning sun rising high above the mountains provided a breathtaking view.
The Lake Mead National Recreation Area, twice the size of Rhode Island, is where three of Americas four desert ecosystems meet. The Great Basin, the Sonoran, and the Mojave come together where one of the Wests most powerful rivers, the mighty Colorado, was stopped by one of the largest dams ever built.
Completed in 1936, Hoover Dam is a national historic landmark that can hold back 9.2 trillion gallons of water. The 727-foot dam is a concrete arch-gravity type, in which the water load is carried by both horizontal arch action and gravity. Located an hour's drive southeast of the Las Vegas strip, the dam straddles the Arizona-Nevada border.
Its mission is to control floods, improve navigation on the Colorado River, store and deliver water for reclamation of public lands, and provide hydroelectric power. Hoover Dam also contains 28.5-million-acre-foot Lake Mead, the largest man-made lake in the United States.
Since September 11, 2001, security at Hoover Dam had consisted of roadblocks and vehicle searches of all automobiles, boats, motor homes, and trucks. Except for open-bedded trucks, big rigs and buses were banned from the dam's narrow Highway 93. They were detoured to a bridge near Bullhead City, Arizona.
The heightened alert status also brought a change to Hoover's previously modest police force. Park rangers and personnel from other federal agencies were brought in to augment the force. Metal detectors were installed at the visitor center, camouflaged machine-gun posts dotted the hilltops, marksmen were stationed in concealed areas, and individuals with shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles guarded the supplier of water and electricity for the vast Southwest.
Flying at 1,200 feet above Lake Mead, Scott slowly eased the power back for a relaxed cruise speed to save fuel. "Can you believe the constantly changing blues of the water?"
"I've never seen anything like it."
Scott stared off into the distance. "This is a spectacular setting, rugged mountains in the background and sheer cliffs jutting out of the water."
"What a beautiful place." Jackie shaded her eyes. "Since the glare is so bad at this time of the morning, maybe we should fly up to the neck of the lake, make a one-eighty, and have the sun at our backs."
"That would make it easier."
They flew straight to the Temple Bar Marina in Arizona, made a descending turn, lowered the flaps, and cruised at 90 knots 600 feet above the pristine lake.
Jackie glanced at Scott. "Its nice to be this close to the water and not have to worry about losing the only engine you have."
"I know what you mean."
She raised the binoculars and scanned a wide array of boats. "Lots of people out here today"
"Its Saturday."
"And the weathers perfect," she added. "No wind and no waves."
They checked dozens of large houseboats, some in secluded coves, others in open waters. Many of the boaters waved, including a few who radioed the Caravan in the blind. Jackie chatted with a couple of the friendly people. One elderly gentleman even offered a refreshing Bloody Mary if they wanted to land. Soon, the Water Bird moniker became familiar to the boating crowd.
At half past noon, they circled Callville Bay Marina. Boasting over 600 slips, Callville Bay is one of the largest inland marinas in the United States. Scores of houseboats were carefully lined up in neat rows, beckoning their owners or renters to step aboard.
"See anything?" Scott asked.
"No, not a sign of number thirty-one."
"Want to go around again?"
"Sure, one more wide turn will do it."
They circled again and headed toward the western end of the huge lake. Another thirty minutes, now over the southern area of the lake, and Jackie figured it was time for a stretch, physiological relief, fuel, and food.
She placed the binoculars in the carrying case and removed her sunglasses. "How about a break for a juicy cowburger, some nutritional onion rings, and a big thick malted milk?"
Scott loudly groaned in disbelief. "How do you manage to stay so trim and thin?"
"Excellent genes. Step on it."
He smiled to himself and then added power and raised the flaps. "Cellulite City, here we come."
They were turning toward the airport when Jackie spotted a large houseboat about four miles northwest of Hoover Dam. There weren't any other houseboats in the vicinity and the craft was cruising toward the basin leading to the dam.
Jackie reached for the binoculars. "Keep the turn coming another twenty degrees or so — okay, hold what you have." She studied the top of the houseboat and saw the number 31 in bold black paint. "That's it! That's the one we've been looking for!"
"Are you positive?"
"Absolutely! The number and the deck color match the description Wakefield gave me."
"Okay, we'll hold our heading until we're a few miles away, and then go straight to Boulder City."
"Can you believe it? We actually found them!"
"Well," Scott said with a grin, "they won't be hard to find again."
"That's for sure. Let's make this fuel stop a quick turn. Forget the burger."
"You bet. Save the cholesterol overdose for later."
"We better contact Wakefield," Jackie suggested. "Let him know we found the houseboat and see if there's anything new we need to know."
"Give him a call."
Frank Wakefield was extremely pleased. He requested that Jackie and Scott keep number 31 under surveillance until he could mount a raid at dawn. Over Wakefield's protests, Jackie explained that a houseboat stakeout was not the focus of their mission. She would have to check with her superiors and get back to him as soon as she could.
Jackie attempted to call Hartwell Prost but could not make contact. She gave up as they turned on final approach to the Boulder City Municipal Airport.
Flying air force A-10 close-air-support jets, Captain Lex Ingraham and his wingman, Captain Corky Kamansky, were patrolling the train track used by Amtrak's popular Empire Builder. On temporary assignment from the 47th Fighter Squadron at Barksdale AFB, the two aviators were experienced Warthog instructor pilots and veterans of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Flying low above the Columbia River south of the junction of the Snake and Columbia rivers, they were looking for any sign of sabotage or terrorist activity.