The powers that be in Washington had finally decided to make a move. Abu Sayyaf, a radical Muslim group operating in the Philippines, had kidnapped a family of Americans on vacation, the Andersons from Portland, Oregon. The family, Mike and Judy and their three children-Ava, nine, Charlie, seven, and Lola, six-had been plucked from their seaside resort on the Philippine island of Samar five months earlier.

Devolis and his men had followed the story closely, knowing that if the politicians ever got off their asses, it would most likely be their job to go in and rescue the Andersons. Devolis had spent a lot of nights thinking about the family, especially the kids. The twenty-eight-year-old officer wanted to rescue those kids more than anything else he'd wanted in his six years as a U.S. Navy SEAL. He'd stared at their pictures so often the edges were worn and brown, and read their files over and over until those innocent little faces visited him in his sleep. For better or worse this mission had become personal. He wanted to be their savior. With Devolis it was not false bravado but an honestly and fiercely held conviction that someone needed to show these fanatics what happened when they screwed with the United States of America.

Devolis was in no way sadistic, but he felt an unusual amount of hatred toward the men who were holding the Andersons. He couldn't grasp what type of person would kidnap innocent children, but whoever they were, Devolis felt confident that he would lose no sleep over whacking the whole lot of them. Tonight Abu Sayyef was going to feel the full force of the U.S. Navy and the terrorist group would deeply regret having locked horns with the world's lone superpower.

The USS Belleau Wood was lurking fifteen miles off the coast of Dinagat Island.