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."
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."