After a long pause Forester asked, "Where?"

"The State Department. Some of this you're going to hear in the press. Assistant Secretary of State Amanda Petry sat in on the National Security Council briefings on the operation. She was told pointblank that she was not to share any information regarding the hostage rescue of the Anderson family with our embassy in Manila. Once the Andersons and all of our assets were safely out, we'd let the Filipino government know. If they got upset"-Rapp shrugged his shoulders-"our attitude was tough shit. The family's been held hostage for six damn months, and they haven't done shit to free them. In fact, we've discovered that they've actually hindered our efforts."

Hindered was a kind choice of words.

"After our boys were ambushed Director Kennedy launched an investigation. It appears that for some time she's had people at Langley monitoring the situation out here. What she discovered you're not going to like. Prior to the rescue operation Amanda Petry e-mailed Ambassador Cox in Manila the general plans of the mission. Ambassador Cox in turn relayed this information to someone in the Philippine government."

"Who?" asked Jackson.

After hesitating Rapp replied, "That I can't say."

"Can't or won't?" asked the ship's captain.

"Won't," conceded Rapp, "but that doesn't matter. It's the next part that you're going to be most interested in. Have either of you met General Moro?"

Forester shook his head while Jackson said, "Several times."

"What'd you think of him?"

Jackson seemed to consider the question carefully and then said, "I think he had a real hard-on for me and my boys. A big chip on his shoulder."

"Yeah," Rapp agreed.

"Like maybe he didn't like Americans running around on his little island?"

"That and the fact that he was always trying to prove that his boys were better than us."

Rapp sensed some potentially important information here.

"Were they?"

Jackson laughed.

"No way."

Rapp hoped the answer was based on more than bravado and unit pride.

"Be more specific. How'd they shoot? How were they in the jungle? What was their discipline like?"

"They were extremely disciplined. Moro was a real sadist in that regard. They were in great shape. They could handle the long marches, with the big packs and not a one of them would piss and moan. I was a little disappointed in their shooting, but they don't fire anywhere near the amount of rounds as we do on the Teams."

This was important information.

"How were they in the jungle?

Were they good trackers?"

"It's funny you ask that," said Jackson, frowning.

"They were great trackers. They'd pick up shit in the jungle before every single guy in my platoon with the exception of maybe one."

"Why's that funny?"

"Well, if they were such good trackers, why was it that they could never pick up the Andersons ' trail? A couple times we strolled into camps that had been hastily vacated, and I'd urge Moro's men to press on, but there was always some excuse why we had to stay put. They'd sit on the radio for an hour waiting for orders while scouts fanned out looking for a trail."

"Did you ever try to pursue on your own?"

Jackson shot a sideways look at Forester.

"Hell, yeah. Moro threw a real shit fit. He actually climbed into a chopper and came out to where we were. He reamed me in front of my men and his. Then he got a hold of my CO back in Guam and reamed him out too. I ended up with a letter of instruction in my file, and now they won't let me off the ship."

Rapp smiled.

"Well, Lieutenant, I think I might be able to get that letter removed from your file."

"Huh?" asked a confused Jackson.

"Just remind me when this is all over, and I'll make sure the letter of instruction is purged… In fact, I'll make sure it's replaced with a commendation." Rapp could tell Jackson wasn't following.

"Your instincts were right, Lieutenant. General Moro was a traitor."

"Traitor?"

"That's right."

"I noticed," started Captain Forester, "that you used the past tense in regard to the general's status. Is that by accident or intentional?"

This is where things got tricky. The problem was not in acknowledging Moro's death. It would be public soon enough. The difficulty lay in who killed him and how they knew he was a traitor. Rapp decided to tell only part of the truth.

"General Moro has been accepting bribes from Abu Sayyaf." Rapp left out the information about China.

"As you pointed out, Lieutenant, he has no love for Americans."

"So Abu Sayyaf was paying him not to pursue them?"

"That's correct."

"Why that little-" Forester interrupted the junior officer's cuss.

"Did General Moro have anything to do with the ambush that was sprung on our men the other night?"

"I'm afraid so."

Forester remained calm despite the anger that boiled beneath the surface.

"So back to my other question. Is General Moro still with us?"

"No," answered Rapp without the slightest hint of remorse.

Jackson, knowing Rapp's reputation and that he'd been at the Special Forces camp this very morning, asked in a hopeful tone, "Did you kill him?"

Forester cleared his throat loudly and eyeing Rapp said, "Lieutenant, I don't think we want to ask that question."

Rapp appreciated the captain's discretion.

"That's all right. No, I didn't kill him. General Moro was shot by a sniper."

"A sniper," repeated Jackson.

"That's right. The camp's perimeter security was nonexistent. Abu Sayyaf got someone in close enough and they shot the general early this morning." Rapp paused to see how this was going over and added, "That's the official story. Now would you like to hear what really happened?"

Both men nodded, Jackson more enthusiastically than Forester.

"The information I'm about to share with you is highly classified.

I can't stress this enough." Satisfied that they knew the stakes he said, "In the predawn hours this morning a U.S. Special Forces sniper team was inserted onto the island. They moved into position and sometime after sunup they took the shot."

Both officers took the news in silence.

"That's not all, however. While moving into position the team sighted the Anderson family and their captors. The four-man team split into two elements; one to follow the Andersons and the other to take out the general."

"We know where the Andersons are?" asked a cautious Jackson.

"Yep."

Forester uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

"We know precisely where they are?"

"Precisely," replied Rapp, "and we're going to go get them."

THIRTY TWO.

Light flurries floated down from the chill March evening sky as black stretch limousines cued up along Pennsylvania Avenue waiting to disgorge their important passengers under the north portico of the White House. The event was black tie; a state dinner for the Canadian prime minister. Irene Kennedy asked her driver to bring her around to the southwest gate. She didn't have time to wait in line.

A private word with the President was needed before the festivities started.

Trust was not something that came easily to the young director of the Central Intelligence Agency. She worked in a profession where things were not always as they first appeared, where people and countries were constantly attempting to deceive her, and even when she did trust someone there were motives to consider. Mitch Rapp was one exception to her rule. He was one of the few people who Kennedy could rely on.

God knows they had a different way of going about things, but Rapp was effective and his motives clear. He had nothing but disdain for the people who ran Washington. As the failed rescue mission in the Philippines had proved, the nation's capital had a habit of getting too many people, and too many agencies, involved in matters that could often be handled by a very small group. It didn't take a master of espionage to realize that the more players involved in an operation, the greater the chance for a leak.