Earl was on the radio immediately. The officers started moving back slowly, one snapping pictures as he moved the other reaching for something on the ground.
"NOW!" Grant yelled.
Earl talked in the radio, and the officers sped up slightly, but not as much as Grant wanted. He now regretted allowing them to go. He would be blamed if something went wrong. Grant saw another large piece break loose, this time followed by a large cracking sound, loud enough to make him cover his ears. The sound was just the motivation the two cops needed; they both sprinted for their lives back toward the edge of the dam.
As the two officers approached and slowed, Grant felt relieved they had made it. However, at that moment, with a loud sound like thunder, a fifty-foot section of the dam, including the elevator shaft itself, broke off and was dragged into the water, pulling the trailer with it. Before anyone could react, the third rope, tied to the trailer, tightened and swept suddenly to the right, taking the legs out from under both officers. The trailer dangled just above the water level on the downstream side of the dam. Grant heard a scream from behind and turned. The rope had pinned another policeman against the handrail, pinching his legs below the knees. His bulging eyes darted back and forth and his face contorted with the pain. Two other officers rushed over and tried to pull the rope away from the officer's legs. Even with both men pulling, they couldn't budge it. They wedged their legs against the concrete to get more leverage, but to no avail. The man screamed again as the rope cut into his legs. Then suddenly the rope disappeared. The previously trapped man collapsed, revealing Earl standing behind, a huge chrome hunting knife gleaming in his hand. Grant looked down and watched the trailer disappear into the Colorado River below.
CHAPTER 10
Two news helicopters hovered over the Glen Canyon Dam, cameramen hanging out open doors. The first one had arrived from Las Vegas twenty minutes before. The second arrived a few minutes after that from a television station in Phoenix.
The opening in the top of the dam stretched over two hundred feet across, and close to three hundred feet down. Grant knew that the amount of water draining out of Lake Powell was now more than the flow of the Mississippi. As he watched, a house-sized piece of concrete broke away and fell into the canyon, a sight that was becoming normal at Glen Canyon. The resulting splash could only be imagined, since the canyon bottom had long since disappeared in the clouds of mist.
Grant felt helpless. What could he do? The dam would disintegrate with or without him there. Maybe downstream, where all the floodwater was headed, there was still something to be done. He turned away from the windows. "Brian, who did you talk to at Hoover? What were they going to do?"
Brian shook his head. "I can't remember who I talked to. We didn't talk about what they should do. I just told them we had a hole in the dam."
Grant hoped Fred Grainger was at Hoover. He nodded to the phone, "I need to talk to them. Can you get me the number?"
Brian rustled through the papers on his desk and handed Grant a sheet while holding his finger under the number for Hoover Dam. Grant dialed the number and someone on the other end picked up.
"Hello, this is Grant Stevens from the Bureau of Reclamation. I'm calling from Glen Canyon Dam. Is Fred Grainger there?"
The man on the other end asked him to hold. While he waited, he wondered how long it would take to get to Hoover.
"Hello, this is Fred." He sounded tired.
"Fred, Grant Stevens calling from Glen Canyon."
Fred's voice seemed to cheer up slightly "Grant. How are things up there? Who's in charge?"
Grant shook his head, even though he was on the phone. "Like it or not, I'm in charge. I'm all the Bureau could muster for this one."
Fred was silent on the other end for a moment. "What about the commissioner, and the VP's? Where's Archibald?"
"They're all on their way to Kenya for the symposium," Grant explained.
"Holy crap. So they don't even know?"
"I don't know. They may have been reached by now. Commissioner Blackwell's admin sent me here this morning. I'm sure she's been trying to contact them ever since." The phone went silent for a moment, and then Grant spoke again. "What are you guys doing at Hoover?"
Fred spoke tentatively. "Well, we canceled all tours for the day. We're using some of the tour guides to work traffic to turn people back."
Grant couldn't respond. He hoped that they were doing a lot more than just canceling tours. "What about your water? Aren't you dumping any?"
"Not yet," answered Fred. "But we started notifying — "
"Why not?" Grant yelled into the phone.
Fred stumbled with his answer. "We're trying. But I had to notify the dams downstream first, and Laughlin, so they could, you know, prepare. I can't just flood 'em out."
Grant couldn't believe it. They were worried about flooding downstream. In reality, flooding downstream was a legitimate worry. The problem was, it was going to be unavoidable. And the longer they waited, the worse the flooding downstream would be. How could he make them understand? "Fred, we are having a catastrophic failure here! The Glen Canyon Dam is breaking apart. You are about to get Lake Powell in your lap. I suggest you start dumping water as fast as you can."
Fred hesitated on the other end. "I'm not sure I can authorize that. My boss is gone too. Besides, we're limited on how much water we can release downstream. If I let too much out, it'll cause problems."
Grant felt the muscles in his neck tighten. "You have to authorize it, Fred. You're all we've got. If you don't start dumping, you won't be able to handle all the water and Hoover'll get topped."
The phone went silent. Hopefully Fred understood that even Hoover, the king of the big dams in America, could not survive topping. Sustained topping, even of concrete dams, would tear them apart in no time.
After some silence, Fred responded, "I figured the two spillways could handle most of it."
Grant shook his head again. "Think about it, Fred. You think your spillways'll be able to dump two years of river flow in one day?"
Fred didn't respond.
Grant spoke slowly. "Open the gates, Fred. Now. Get rid of as much water as possible."
"I'm going to need some kind of authorization," Fred said.
"It's just us Fred. As crappy as it sounds, I'm in charge." He continued. "I hereby authorize you to dump water. Hell, Fred, if it'll help, I'll order you to. Blame me. Just start opening everything you got."
Finally, he responded. "All right. I'll open the gates."
"Good Fred. I'll be there as soon as I can. Let me give you my cell phone number." Grant read off the number. "You can't be a hero on this one, Fred, but you can definitely be the goat. Do what you have to do."
Fred seemed anxious to get off the phone. "I'd better go."
"Fred, you guys control the dams downstream too, don't you? You need to open the gates at Davis and Parker too."
The next two dams downstream from Hoover were Davis Dam, which created Lake Mojave, and Parker Dam, which held back Lake Havasu. All flow control at Davis and Parker was automated and initiated from the Hoover Dam control center.
"You want me to dump all three dams?" Fred asked, sounding more scared than before. "That'll flood everything downstream."
"You will absolutely cause flooding downstream, Fred. But that's nothing compared to the flood that'll occur if one of the dams fails."
"All right. I gotta go."
Grant felt uncomfortable hanging up, but he knew he had to. "Okay, Fred, keep me posted."
Grant hung up the phone. Brian was waiting.
He pointed to Earl. "Earl's got something to tell you."