While he waited, Grant pointed south so Lloyd could see him. "Did you run into the FBI while you were in Yuma?"
"Nah, they didn't arrive at the airport until I was ready to leave. We didn't even talk."
Grant wondered if they had even recognized Lloyd's chopper as the one Grant was using. More likely that they were thinking about their own responsibilities and not what Grant was doing.
Frank walked over. "Cover your ears this time; he's going to detonate it in fifteen seconds." Frank turned and shouted for the policemen standing around to cover their ears.
Grant covered his ears and noticed that Lloyd and Shauna were doing the same. He suddenly realized he hadn't seen Agent Williams since they landed.
The explosion blew chunks of debris into the air. It hurt his ears even with his hands clamped over them. He watched a large portion of the concrete dam break off and move downstream. Grant guessed that at least half of a football field length of the dam was displaced and that the water would have no problems finishing the job.
"Awesome," Lloyd said.
Grant, Lloyd and Shauna stood next to the helicopter watching the water do its thing. The level had risen steadily since the first explosion. Now it seemed to have stabilized at about four or five feet from the top of the original dam. There was no doubt in Grant's mind that the decision to blow the 300 foot section on the Gila side saved the dam from being topped. In all, counting the spillway and the extra section, a 1300 foot section of the dam was now flowing full blast. As Grant had predicted, the ten-foot dike constructed to protect the settling ponds of the All American Canal had been breached almost fifteen minutes before. They'd have to wait sixty days for the water to drop before they tried to dig out the mud and attempt to restore them.
The small highway below the dam was underwater. The rushing water had flattened what previously had been an impenetrable mass of willows in the riverbed below the dam. Grant saw no evidence that they had ever existed. Looking downstream, the river had spread out to almost a half mile wide, then steadily flowed downhill for three or four miles before it emptied into the valley of farmland below.
"Unbelievable," said Lloyd.
Grant looked at Shauna. "You know what the bright side of this is, don't you?"
She looked up at him with a confused look on her face. "No. What?"
"It will only take a few days of this to un-silt the dam. It'll be cleaner than it's been in seventy years."
She looked back at the water and nodded. "I'm not sure anybody's going to be celebrating."
As Shauna spoke, Agent Williams walked up to where they were standing. She was covered in concrete dust and her knees were wet and dark.
Grant shook his head. "Well, look who you see! I was starting to think you blew yourself up."
"Not likely," retorted the agent.
Lloyd pointed at her. "So, what do ya like better? Digging around after explosions looking for clues, or blowing stuff up yourself?"
She glared up at the pilot.
"It's okay. You can tell us," Lloyd prodded.
She pointed at him. "This had to be done. It had to be done right."
The pilot's eyes bored into her. "That don't mean you didn't get off doing it, does it? Look, I know you loved watching it blow up. I can see it in your eyes. I liked seeing it. I can admit it."
Grant tried to hide his smile as he watched Lloyd push her buttons. He felt like interjecting, saying something to stop the harassing, but then her composure changed and she finally smiled.
"Okay, it was impressive to watch," she said. "Since it had to be done."
Grant smiled, happy the attack was over. He liked Lloyd, but the pilot scared him sometimes, especially the way he talked to the FBI.
Both the special agent and Lloyd looked up at Grant. He could see that Shauna was also looking at him too. He knew they were waiting for his decision. He looked over at Imperial Dam. The massive stream of water plowed through the huge opening. Downstream a mile-wide river ran into the Yuma farmland, but the water level was stable, he couldn't deny it. He listened for the voice that had been nagging him into Mexico. For some reason the urge had dissipated. But then again, the urge could have subsided because it knew he had already given in to it.
Finally, it was their turn. The boats that had been beached above the Mastercraft were gone. Greg had already backed the trailer down the long ramp, and it was waiting for the boat to be lowered onto it.
In the early afternoon, two cranes had been brought in from Las Vegas to lift the boats. They were unlike anything Julie had ever seen before. They reminded her of a military Hummer, in that they were low, flat, and looked heavy. Each had tires bigger than truck tires, and each had a large telescoping arm right in the middle, with the logo CARRYDECK inscribed on the side. One was slightly larger than the other, and Greg told her it would lift 20 tons, not that Julie knew how that related to the boats they were lifting.
But Greg and Paul could not stop talking about how the cranes were perfect for the job at hand. The large crane lifted the boats on the left side of the ramp, and the smaller one lifted the ones on the right. As soon as they had placed a boat on its trailer, they moved the cranes down a boat length, parked and began lifting the next boat. Two helpers wearing hard hats attached special harnesses that slipped under the bow and stern, then once they lifted the boat in the air, the operator could put it wherever he wanted.
When the Mastercraft was hoisted up, Julie couldn't help being scared that they would drop it, but she had nothing to fear. The crane operator lowered the boat down onto the trailer in a slow, gentle motion. Greg and Paul hurried to tie down the boat, and when they were finished, the two men in hard hats removed the harness and the crane moved to the next boat. Since there was a line of trailers waiting to replace the Crawfords on the ramp, Greg motioned for everyone to get in the truck and they pulled the boat to the top of the hill out of the way.
In the parking lot, Greg pulled over next to Paul and Erika's SUV and turned off the engine. They climbed out of the truck and Greg and Paul began securing the boat for the journey home.
Erika looked at Julie, smiling.
"What?" Julie asked.
"Nothing. Just that we're done. We can go home."
Julie looked at her watch. She tried to remember which day it was, and saw that it was Wednesday. Originally, they had rented the houseboat until Friday. "I guess we're leaving a few days early, aren't we?"
Erika laughed. "I think we left at just the right time."
They both turned and looked down the hill to where Wahweap Bay had once been. It no longer looked like a bay. Most of the water was gone, replaced by a thin stream of water running down to merge with the Colorado River. It was how it must have looked before the dam was built. The entire dock structure of Wahweap Marina including the floating store, gas station, rest rooms, and of course, hundreds of houseboats, were all grounded on the shore. Julie was saddened by the sight. What a waste. Lake Powell had been one of the most incredible places in the world.
"Let's go home," Greg said.
Fred Grainger stood on top of Hoover-Two and stared out over the water of Lake Mead. He was uncomfortable. He tried to visualize the scene over a hundred miles upstream where the Colorado River exited the Grand Canyon and emptied into the huge reservoir. What was happening up there? Until the floodwater entering the lake fell to less than what Hoover was dumping from both spillways and all the head gates, the level of Lake Mead would continue to rise.