The easiest course of action was to do nothing. Wait until the men moved on, and then proceed. But time was not a luxury at this point.

They needed to get moving, and they needed to do it fast. That unfortunately meant backtracking a bit and then moving through the jungle to get around the men. Any way he sliced it they were running out of time. Coleman didn't want to admit it yet, but it was looking more and more like they wouldn't be making it to the top of the mountain on time.

Coleman felt Wicker's hand on his bicep. He turned to see the point man walk two fingers in front of his face signaling that more people were approaching. The man's hearing was supernormal. Coleman, who was no novice in the woods, hadn't heard a thing.

Suddenly, the three Filipinos by the bridge threw their cigarettes to the ground and stamped them out with their sandaled feet. One by one they un-shouldered their weapons and tried to look alert. Coleman heard someone speaking Filipino to the men from farther up the trail.

Suddenly, there was another flurry of activity. Two of the men rushed to the other side of the small bridge and took up positions as the fourth man appeared from the jungle. Coleman saw that the man was carrying an M16 and…

Both he and Wicker ducked behind the tree at the same time.

There was no mistaking the profile of the new man. He had on a pair of night vision goggles. They lay completely still behind the tree listening for the slightest indication that they'd been spotted. After what seemed like an eternity, Coleman peered out from the opposite side of the tree. From his new vantage he could only see one side of the bridge. The man with the goggles was nowhere to be seen. Carefully, he slithered on the ground, backing up at first and then working his way toward the creek.

Once again, with a full view of the bridge, he found the man he was looking for. The man had flipped his NVGs into the up position and was talking in Filipino to the two men on the far side of the bridge. He pointed in the opposite direction from which he'd come and the two men immediately took off down the trail. The man with the M16 then pulled his goggles back down and began scanning the area. Coleman smoothly drew back behind the tree. The wisest thing for them to do right now was to sit tight. It was better to lie still than risk attracting attention.

Running down the list of possibilities, Coleman wondered if their insertion had been noticed and the guerrillas were attempting to set up a picket. If more men arrived and they began working their way down the stream it would be a foregone conclusion. Thinking ahead, the commander began to plot an ambush. If they had to, they could do it on the fly.

Coleman would leave Wicker where he was and the commander and Hackett would collapse to the middle. They'd let the enemy work their way down the stream far enough until they were fully flanked by his position and then they'd unload with Stroble and Wicker working their way from the outside in and he and Hackett the inside out. It would not be difficult for them to take down at least twelve men before a warning shot was fired.

Coleman was about to fall back when he felt Wicker tightly squeeze his arm and not let go. Looking over, Coleman saw that his point man was looking at the bridge from the other side of the tree.

Slowly Coleman peeked out from behind the right side. He blinked twice in disbelief. It took him a moment to process what was happening on the small bridge and another moment to realize that his finger had moved off the guard and onto the thin trigger of his MP-10.

TWENTY TWO.

Coleman watched in disbelief as five Caucasians, two adults and three children, passed before him like a dream in the mist, their blond and red hair a stark contrast to the black hair of the armed men who walked with them. They were tied to each other, a sagging link of rope in between each frail, malnourished individual.

The mom in front, two kids in the middle and the dad slowly bringing up the rear carrying the youngest of the brood. They looked ragged and underfed, but alive. The column moved across the bridge and down the trail. A rear guard loitered for a few seconds, then wandered off lazily after the group. And just like that, they were gone.

Coleman, who had just moments before cursed their bad luck, was now rejoicing in their fortune. In the midst of a jungle, in the middle of the Philippines, they had just stumbled across a family of Americans for whom thousands of men and women had been searching. Getting into position to support Rapp's mission was his priority, but this was an opportunity that he might not be able to resist.

Wicker leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I counted twenty-one plus the family."

Coleman nodded and then pointed for Wicker to move forward and check things out. With his hand cupped over his lip mike he said, "Kevin and Dan, get up here."

A minute later they were gathered near the bridge. The sky was getting lighter by the minute. While Coleman briefed Hackett and Stroble on what they'd seen' Wicker checked out the path to make sure no one was lagging behind or doubling back. When the point man returned Coleman quickly laid out their options. All four men looked to the top of the mountain where they were supposed to be by the time the sun was up, and then looked down the narrow muddy path where the family of kidnapped Americans and their captors had gone.

More than probably any other military outfit, SEALs were taught to think independently in the field, but none of them were prepared for this. They had a mission to fulfill and Coleman wasn't about to leave Rapp to carry on alone, but he sure as hell didn't like the idea of losing the Andersons. His loyalty and respect for Rapp and the SEALs who had been abandoned on the beach was unquestionable, but so was the innocence of the American family held against their will for months on end. Strict protocol dictated that he get his team to the top of the hill as quickly as possible and radio in the sighting of the Andersons.

Common sense told him that this accidental sighting of the missing family was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Satellites and reconnaissance flights were incapable of penetrating the dense cover of the jungle, making any hope of searching for the Andersons by air hopeless. If Coleman radioed in their position it would take a day or more to insert a team. By that time the trail was sure to go cold.

Looking again to the top of the hill and then down the trail, Coleman continued to struggle with what to do. The answer suddenly came to him in the form of a question. What would Rapp do? The answer was obvious. The solution was less than perfect, but under the current situation, the best choice. The former SEAL Team commander gestured for his men to take a knee and then very specifically he laid out a course of action.