The ship rolled under his feet and with his knees flexed, Rapp found the rhythm. He squeezed the trigger once and a bullet spat from the end of the thick black silencer. Thirty feet away the projectile tore a hole in the center of the head of the paper target. Rapp squeezed off two more rounds that enlarged the hole created by the first bullet.

Then flipping the selector switch from single shot to fully automatic he began moving down the line, spraying the targets with lead. Each paper silhouette varied in distance from thirty to fifty feet but it didn't seem to affect Rapp's marksmanship. By the time he reached the end all eight heads were shredded.

Pausing for only a second, Rapp did a speed load on a fresh thirty-round magazine and started back down the line, this time shooting with one hand and moving at a much quicker pace. When he reached the end he stopped and analyzed the fresh set of holes he'd added to the chest of each target. Satisfied with the weapon he turned to the chief and said, "This one will do just fine."

Lieutenant Jackson, who'd been watching with great interest, smiled and said, "Not bad."

Rapp grinned.

"It was easy. They weren't moving."

As Rapp walked toward the superstructure Lieutenant Jackson fell in.

"Do you want to tell me what you're up to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Somehow I get the feeling you're not going to sit this one out on the sidelines."

Rapp kept walking toward the superstructure. He'd been on autopilot all morning, diligently putting the op together. It was now after noon and things were gel ling nicely. Coleman had confirmed that the Andersons were in one of the army tents, both SEAL platoons were ready, the insertion had been planned, the backup was in place and the extraction was ready. Now all they had to do was wait for nightfall.

The only thing that was left for Rapp was to be honest with himself.

He was drawn toward the action like a surgeon to the operating room. He didn't have to go; Coleman and his men were some of the best in the world, as were Jackson and his SEALs. But as good as they were Rapp knew he was better, and Coleman would be the first to admit it.

Rapp knew if he didn't do everything in his power to save that family he'd never forgive himself. Anna would never understand that, but she didn't have to know. That, combined with being on the other side of the planet, made it easier to make the decision.

"Yeah," said Rapp, "I'm going." One concern had consistently come up in the operational planning meeting. The Abu Sayyaf group that was holding the Andersons was not the only guerrilla element on the island. The way they were armed made it highly unlikely that they were the force that had ambushed the SEAL team several nights earlier.

With that in mind Jackson was concerned about landing his platoon on the beach. Like any leader he had no desire to lead his team into an ambush.

The most readily available solution to the problem was to be inserted by helicopter farther inland as Coleman and his men had been the night before. Rapp, however, ruled this out immediately. Neither Jackson nor Captain Forester knew the real reason why Coleman and his team were on the island. They both thought it was to track down the Andersons.

If they knew the whole story, as Rapp did, they would probably come to the same conclusion. And that was that Coleman's helicopter insertion had more than likely spooked the Andersons ' captors into moving them. If the guerrillas decided to move again, the rescue would have to be postponed until another plan could be drawn up.

Coleman offered to send one of his men on the three-mile hike back to the beach to check things out in advance of the landing, but Rapp also ruled this out without hesitation. He wanted Coleman and his men focused on the target. If the guerrillas decided to move again he would need all four of them on the hunt. There was also the remote possibility that they might be discovered by the guerrillas and if that happened Coleman minus even one man could mean the difference between survival and annihilation.

There was a readily available solution to the danger of the landing.

Rapp had been tossing it around in his head for several hours and decided now was the time to make it known. Looking at Jackson he asked, "How tall are you?"

Jackson looked a little confused.

"Five-eleven. Why?"

Rapp gave him the once-over from head to toe.

"One hundred and seventy-five pounds?"

"One seventy-eight."

"Good." Rapp slapped Jackson on the back and said, "You wouldn't mind lending me some of your gear, would ya?"

Rain fell in heavy sheets as the United States Marine Corps CH-53E Super Sea Stallion helicopter cruised toward its destination. The wipers worked furiously to clear the cockpit windscreen but it was useless. The pilots were flying by instrument.

At a standstill, visibility was a scant two hundred feet, but flying at 110 mph it was reduced to zero. Fortunately, the wind was manageable. The slow-moving front had stalled over the Philippines, dumping rain from Manila in the north to Davao in the south. Nothing was moving that didn't have to.

While most people sought cover, and either cursed Mother Nature's power or watched it in wonder, there were those who embraced it. Twenty-five such individuals sat in the back of the cold, sterile cargo hold that was designed to carry up to fifty-five marines. All were dressed in black neoprene scuba suits. Twenty-four of them were U.S. Navy SEALs and one was an employee of the CIA.

The rain was a real blessing, enabling Rapp to move up his timetable and launch early. Nightfall was still several hours away, but you couldn't tell. Emboldened by the weather and the updates from Coleman that it looked like the guerrillas had settled in to wait the storm out, Rapp jumped at the opportunity to get things moving. He considered alerting Kennedy that they were starting the op but decided against it. It was three in the morning in Washington and that would involve waking her up and then bringing her up to speed. He had neither the inclination nor the time to open the door to suggestions from the strategists and politicians back in Washington. At this point they would more than likely complicate the mission. As far as getting final approval went, he wasn't worried. The precedent had been set when the President authorized the rescue operation earlier in the week. The United States wanted its citizens back and the aggressors would pay.

The original plan had been to take two Sea Stallions, load up the operators and four zodiacs, and drop everyone off five miles from the beach one hour after sunset. When the front finally moved in Rapp consulted with the pilots and Jackson. The pilots felt the storm would mask their approach to the point where they could get in close enough to drop them a mile from the beach with no fear of being spotted or heard.

Rapp and Jackson had no problem coming to the same conclusion;

lose the zodiacs and put everyone on one bird. These types of operations were complicated enough. Any chance to simplify was an opportunity that had to be taken. The men were more than capable of off-loading the zodiacs in the roughest of seas, but it was nonetheless something else for them to do. And then once ashore they would have to take time to stash the boats. All of this was preferred to a five-mile swim when they were up against the clock, but that was no longer an issue. A one-mile swim for the men was nothing.

One of the crew members came through the cabin holding up two fingers. There was no sense in trying to yell over the three turbine engines and six rotor blades. Those who hadn't already strapped on their fins began to do so. At the one minute mark the back ramp of the big chopper was lowered into the down position. On Jackson 's command all the men stood and steadied themselves as best they could.