THIRTY ONE.

The Philippine army helicopter approached the Amphibious Readiness Group from the west. In the middle of the formation sat the intimidating USS Belleau Wood. Rapp couldn't wait for his transport to land. The morning had gone from bad, to better, to good, to too good to be true, and then just when things looked like they would all fall into place he was thrown a curve ball. A little more than an hour after General Moro had been nearly decapitated, Coleman called to report an interesting piece of information. Initially, he regarded the news of the Anderson family as a gift, but then Rapp began to see a problem.

The Filipino Special Forces had been whipped into an uncontrollable frenzy by the death of their commanding officer, just as Rapp had hoped they'd be. The 200-plus-man force began loading up for war.

Two counter-sniper teams had been sent out to see what they could find, while Colonel Barboza took charge and prepared to send out additional patrols to find the enemy. The men wanted blood, and as soon as they got a whiff of their opponent they were going to engage them with everything they had.

Rapp had watched all this unfold with a feigned grave concern.

Inside he was very pleased. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. The Special Forces group would go after Abu Sayyaf with a rabid vengeance, and back in Manila, General Rizal would strongly advise that the U.S. military be allowed to join in the hunt. With this new cooperation they would locate the Andersons, rescue them and once and for all deal with Abu Sayyaf.

Coleman changed all that when he called to inform Rapp of the vision he'd witnessed in the wet predawn jungle of Dinagat Island. In addition, Coleman reported that the Abu Sayyaf camp was only four miles from the Filipino Special Forces camp. The original plan had been for Coleman and his team to take the shot and then move to the beach and swim out for an extraction. That was now off. Coleman did not want to lose contact with the Andersons and Rapp agreed.

So now they were left with an enraged group of Filipino Special Forces soldiers who wanted revenge. Sitting between them and their retaliation just happened to be four U.S. covert operatives. In addition, the Filipino soldiers were so agitated that Rapp doubted they would perform a well-thought-out, deft hostage rescue once they found the Abu Sayyaf camp.

If the two forces met, it could quickly disintegrate into a massacre with the odds of the Andersons making it out alive not good.

Fate had moved all the players into a very tight area and moved up the timetable, as well, and if Rapp couldn't rein in the Filipino soldiers, is trip to the opposite side of the globe could quickly become a disaster.

Having just a few avenues open to him, and not able to talk freely at the Special Forces camp, Rapp made a single call. It was to his boss.

Washington was fourteen hours behind, so while Rapp was already starting his day in the Philippines, Irene Kennedy was ending hers at Langley. Rapp made two requests. The first was that she get General Flood to lean on General Rizal in Manila to keep his troops in camp until they could come up with a strategy. The second request now loomed large beneath him.

The USS Belleau Wood churned through the Philippine Sea at twelve knots, its massive twin screws leaving a white frothy wake as far as the eye could see. Her escort and support ships were arrayed around her in a diamond formation that stretched for miles. To the east storm clouds loomed. Rapp cursed the weather at first, but then wondered if it could be used to their advantage.

The Philippine army helicopter landed on the massive nonskid deck of the USS Belleau Wood well forward of the looming superstructure.

Mitch Rapp was out the door like a shot, heading straight for the only piece of ship that wasn't below decks. He'd been on U.S. naval warships before and knew for the most part where to go. When he neared the towering superstructure a navy lieutenant approached him and extended his hand.

"Mr. Rapp," yelled the officer, "I'm Lieutenant Jackson. Damn pleased to meet you."

Rapp allowed the officer to pump his hand with enthusiasm.

Without having to look for the shiny trident on the officer's khaki uniform, Rapp immediately knew by the man's longish hair, physical build and goatee that he was a SEAL.

"You're just the man I wanted to see, Lieutenant."

Jackson grinned. He, like most of his colleagues, knew all about Mitch Rapp. His appearance on the Belleau Wood was a good sign.

"My orders are to bring you straight to the captain's quarters."

Jackson disappeared through the hatch and Rapp followed him.

They walked down the metal stairs for several decks and then down a narrow passageway. They stopped in front of a gray door with the name CAPTAIN FORESTER stenciled in black.

Jackson rapped on the door twice with his knuckles and waited for permission to enter. It came almost instantly. Jackson crossed the threshold first and came to attention. He held a salute and said, "Captain, as you requested: Mr. Rapp."

Captain Sherwin Forester set down a book he was reading and stood. At six foot four, Forester looked cramped aboard the space-conscious ship. The ceiling of his quarters was only a few inches from the top of his head.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. As you were." Forester strode across the blue carpet, raising a bushy eyebrow as he sized up his visitor. With a grin he said, "Well, Mr. Rapp, today marks a first for me. In my twenty-one years of service I have never received a direct call from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and most definitely not while I've been at sea."

Rapp smiled. There was something instantly likable about Forester.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, sir?"

Forester chewed on the question for a second.

"I don't like waiting around sitting on my hands. Especially after what happened the other night. So I'm going to guess someone with a reputation like yours showing up on my ship like this just might be a good thing."

Rapp nodded. It appeared Forester was a warrior and not some bureaucrat masquerading as an officer.

"I think you're going to like what I have to tell you."

"Good. Let's sit down." The captain led the way over to a couch and four chairs. The suite wasn't big by normal standards, but as far as ships went it was huge. Forester and Jackson took the couch while Rapp sat across from them in an armchair.

"So, Mr. Rapp"-Forester crossed his long legs-"what are you doing so far away from home?"

Rapp had already thought about much of what lay ahead. It was going to be a busy day and he needed these two men fully committed to what he would eventually propose. Having worked in an environment that was obsessed with secrets had not always gone over well with Rapp. He could appreciate the need for it, but there were times when the entire cause would be better served if the people in the field knew what was going on.

In Rapp's mind this was one of those cases, plus these two naval officers were not a security risk. They all wanted the same thing; in fact, Forester and Jackson probably wanted it even more. They'd been out here on patrol for more than a month with the Anderson family fresh on their minds, and it had been their brethren who'd been gunned down on the beach not too many nights ago. They could be trusted.

"What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room. In fact, if you breathe a word of it to anyone, it could end your career." Rapp clasped his hands in front of him and looked at both men to make sure they got his message.

"Have I made myself clear enough?"

They nodded.

"Good." Looking at Forester, Rapp said, "The SEALs you put ashore the other night that were ambushed… their mission was compromised by a leak that we traced all the way back to Washington."