The All American Canal ran parallel to the Mexican border on his right almost five miles south of the freeway. He'd already passed over the Westside Main Canal, the last and westernmost of the six major diversions off the All American.
Below Imperial Dam, for all practical purposes, the Colorado River became the All American Canal. Most American's didn't know that, but he did. Imperial Dam diverted more than twice as much water west into the canal than it allowed to flow into Mexico. No one cared if the river dried up before it reached Mexico. Certainly not the farmers of the Imperial Valley, that's for sure. If the United States had not agreed in a treaty to guarantee a fixed amount to Mexico, the Mexicans wouldn't get anything, and they knew it.
Only a few miles back, when he first drove into the valley, he passed a dirt field too dry to grow sagebrush. No bushes, weeds, or anything, just dirt. An empty irrigation ditch ran right next to the freeway, which explained why nothing grew. Without water from the Colorado, Imperial Valley would be a dust bowl, just like it once was.
Up ahead was the main exit for El Centro. Good. There were some fast food joints where he could eat, visit the restroom, and stretch his legs. He needed it, because he had a big day ahead of him. After all, he was going to blow up the All American Canal.
CHAPTER 34
Don Simpson from the Palo Verde Irrigation District was nervous. He'd been venting on Grant since the helicopter landed. Don looked to be about fifty, a little under six feet, and bulky, maybe 220. He wore shiny brown cowboy boots and a western shirt with snaps instead of buttons. He would have looked complete with a felt cowboy hat, but instead, he wore a green baseball cap with a Palo Verde Irrigation District logo on the front.
"You're sure there's nothing we can do to save this dam?" he asked.
"Absolutely," said Grant. "We just watched Headgate Rock fail from the helicopter. We just came from there. One guy from the Bureau of Indian Affairs didn't believe us, and he's dead right now."
Don's face softened. "Well, we're ready; I just wanna be sure. The farmers in my district rely on this dam for irrigation, and it's not natural to bust a dam intentionally."
Grant laid it on the line. "You're gonna have almost 500,000 cubic feet per second of water coming through here for the next sixty days until Lake Mead settles back below its spillways. Your dam can't even handle close to that much. You tell me how your dam is going to survive."
Don didn't answer.
Grant looked around. The Palo Verde Diversion Dam had three gates for the Colorado River and a separate gate for a diversion canal. The concrete structure sat on the California side of the river, right next to an old house, still occupied. A big willow tree shaded the front yard and a friendly white dog walked from person to person, nudging their hands with his nose. A dirt dike over a thousand feet long connected the head gates to the other side of the river. No other homes were visible. The California bank of the river rose into a small dry mountain range. On the Arizona side, endless farms were visible. Like Parker and Headgate Rock Dams, police cars littered both sides, and many officers could be seen walking around on the dam itself.
Even from the helicopter, Grant could tell they had lowered the reservoir. All three Colorado River gates were completely open and a wet line circled the upstream side of the river showing that the water had dropped at least five feet. Upstream, the reservoir veered east a quarter mile from the dam, making it impossible to see the full size of the reservoir.
"How long before the bulldozers will be done?" Grant asked. "After they open it, the water'll need time to clean it out before the flood gets here."
Two extremely large bulldozers had carved a 70 foot section down to the water level by pushing the dirt and substrate off the downstream side of the dam. This resulted in a huge pile of dirt and gravel below the cut.
Don checked his watch. "Both dozers've been going since 10 a.m. They're both D-11 Caterpillars, the biggest suckers available. They're almost at water level now." Don turned back toward Grant and pointed upstream and motioned at the wet banks. "As you can see, we already lowered the reservoir."
Grant nodded. "Yeah, I noticed, but that may work against us."
Don furrowed his brows. "What do you mean? I thought that would be better."
Grant watched a bulldozer push a blade of dirt into the water. "Well, you're gonna need to dig five feet deeper now, before the water starts helping." Grant pointed upstream. "And I'm a little worried whether there's enough water to really open the dike, you know, wide enough for the flood."
Don turned and looked at the river. "I didn't consider that. I just figured the less of a flood I cause downstream, the better."
Grant held out the palms of his hands. "Any flood you cause will pale compared to the flood that's on its way, Don."
Don's head jerked back toward the dam. "Hey, what if I shut all the head gates while they're digging? We could start filling the reservoir again."
Grant looked at his watch as a bulldozer pushed another blade off the dike. He figured they still had almost an hour, but no sense cutting it too close. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. The more water the better."
Don barked orders to a young guy with a John Deere hat. He lowered the gates, one by one. Grant stood on top of the concrete structure, looking straight down into the three spillways. In spite of the dam's small size, the amount of water churning and swirling under the three gates was respectable. After a few minutes, all three gates were shut and the water downstream stopped churning.
Agent Williams stood in the shade of the tree by the house, talking on her cell phone. Shauna had walked over next to the reservoir, and was staring down at the wet rocks as if measuring how fast the water had risen since they closed the head gates. Lloyd walked over and joined them, with the white dog from the house nudging at his hand.
"So what's the agenda, boss?" Lloyd asked.
Grant smiled back at the pilot. "I'm making a small flood, just for you." He pointed toward the bulldozers. "They're going to continue lowering the middle of the dike and in a few more minutes they will meet the rising water. Then they'll make a few cuts below the water level, and get the hell out of there before it comes tumbling down. Should be pretty spectacular."
Lloyd smiled wide. "Wow, you guys put on a good show. How much you charge for this kind of entertainment?"
Don glanced over at Lloyd. Grant guessed Don didn't know what to think about the pilot.
In the ten minutes since they closed the head gates, the bulldozers had lowered the 70 foot-wide notch another couple of feet. At the same time, the reservoir itself rose a few feet, and now some small streams began trickling through the large notch.
"Okay, this is the critical part," Don said to an already tentative audience.
Everyone on both sides of the river, including the cops, stood watching. One of the bulldozers headed up the slope out of the dike away from Grant, a slope that had been intentionally left for their escape. Halfway up he stopped. The operator jumped off the bulldozer, and shortly appeared dragging a chain around the back.
"What's he doing?" asked Lloyd.
Don answered, "He's getting a chain ready; in case the other one gets in trouble, he can hook onto him and pull him out."