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“Right. And Adam. Stay in touch.”

Adam hung up, feeling as if he had a foot on two ice floes, each going in opposite directions. Turning, he saw Fitz scowling.

“I gather he’s coming down pretty hard, eh?”

“Naturally.” Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “He doesn’t want me to go. As for the other thing, he says he’ll take care
of McCaffrey. But I wonder.”

“Me too. I’m worried about just how good Palmer’s word is.”

Adam was, too. He’d tossed his hat into Palmer’s ring. If he trusted him and more men died, how could Adam live with that?
On the other hand, if he went to Ireland and the whole thing blew up in his face—which some people he’d talked to had hinted
it might—where would that leave him, personally and politically? If he didn’t try his best to free her daughter, how would
Liz look at him? If something happened to her and he hadn’t tried…

“Phone for you again,” Mickey called out. “Lady says her name’s Liz, but wouldn’t give me a last name.”

“I’ll take it in the back office, Mickey.” Adam walked to the room, closed the door, and punched in the lighted button. “Hi.”

“Hi. I… I really hate calling, but I
have
to know something.” Her voice was low, trembling. “I’m going crazy here. Have you learned anything?”

He gave her an edited version of what he knew, hitting only the highlights. “So that’s where we stand.”

“This person who suggested you go there. What has he in mind?”

“That I negotiate their release. Of course, we have no way of knowing if the person in charge over there will even talk to
me.”

“Do you know who’s in charge?”

He did know. Fitz had taken the call from Associated Press and given him a note on it before the newscast. The man’s name
was Jamie Hogan who claimed to be with the IRA. But several reliable sources said they’d never heard of the man. Adam’s fear
was that the man was a rebel, representing neither side, a soldier-of-fortune type who was in it for himself and the band
of men who followed him.

However, that wasn’t known for certain, either. He decided that telling that to Liz at this point would only worry her more.
“We’ve had conflicting reports, but no specific demands from any one person.” Which was the truth, insofar as it went.

“Someone has to know something.” Liz hated the hysterical edge to her voice, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “What
are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Palmer’s up in arms, all but forbidding me to go. If I thought I could work something out for sure, I’d go
in a minute; but that’s not a given, either.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair.

For hours Liz had paced, she’d cried, she’d railed against the fates. Would having Adam go over there put him in jeopardy
as well? she wondered. Her baby was a captive. Sara was there under God only knew what conditions. Men in wartime did terrible
things. Her imagination, always overactive, had her picturing scenarios she didn’t want to consider. This had to end and end
well.

She trusted Adam. If anyone could bring Sara back to her, she believed he was the one; but he had no real motive to stick
his neck out except to help her, at the risk of putting
himself in hot water with Palmer Ames. She had to give him a reason as strong as hers.

She had to tell him.

“Adam, I need to see you. Right away.”

He heard a sudden, a new urgency in her voice. “What is it?”

“I can’t go into it on the phone. It’s very important. Can you come over?”

He wasn’t doing any good here anyhow. Fitz could always reach him at her place. “I’ll leave right away.”

Liz hung up. She had half an hour to figure out how to tell Adam that he was Sara’s father. She closed her eyes.
Dear
God.

She led him out onto the terrace, where a warm breeze rustled through the palm trees and a full moon cast them in a silvery
light. She saw the fatigue on his face and hated the thought that she’d be adding more. She’d never asked anything of him,
not back then and, more recently, not for herself. But for Sara, she had to try.

She stood near, but not touching him, her damp hands behind her back. She’d rehearsed her story, found it gravely lacking
but hadn’t been able to come up with a better version. Swallowing, she looked up at him. “Do you remember that summer we spent
so much time together, when you were running for attorney general and I’d just graduated from Stanford?”

Adam saw that nerves had her coiled tightly, which was what he’d expected. But there was something more. “You know I do.”

“We made love often, didn’t we? And sometimes spontaneously, carelessly. We didn’t always think to use birth control.” She
watched his eyes, knew the exact moment when he realized what she was leading up to. She rushed on. “I was so crazy in love
with you, but I knew about your ambition, knew that winning your first election was just the beginning,
a stepping-stone to higher office. I knew you didn’t want to be tied down by marriage and a baby.”

Adam just stared at her, stunned, unable to speak.

“And I was right. When you moved to Sacramento, you rarely called. The last time, you had Fitz phone to brief me on the arrangements
he’d made for me to join you for a weekend getaway. That was right after I found out I was pregnant.”

His eyes had darkened, she noticed, and surprise had turned to a slow, heating anger. Her stomach muscles clenched, but she
had to finish, to say it all. “I didn’t know what to do. I knew if I told you, you’d do the honorable thing; but I didn’t
want a husband who felt trapped. I didn’t want to mess up your plans, to ruin your dreams. Richard dropped in one evening
and found me upset. I blurted out that I was pregnant, but didn’t say who the child’s father was. He told me he’d loved me
a long time and asked me to marry him. He told me he’d love the child as his own. And he did. But Adam, Sara is
your
daughter.”

He was silent, his profile hard. She hated having to defend her actions. Couldn’t he see, understand? She’d been young, frightened,
alone.

Adam turned to face the sea, his thoughts a jumble, a kaleidoscope of racing emotions: anger that she hadn’t trusted him enough,
joy at learning he had a child of his own, frustration over all the lost years.

Liz let her nerves settle, then spoke into the quiet night. “I was so afraid that day you bumped into her here that you’d
spot the resemblance. She has your hair, your eyes, even that dimple by your mouth. I—” She broke on a sob.

Adam turned to her, battling his own pain. “All right. I understand why you didn’t tell me back then. But later, why didn’t
you tell me later?”

“You were married to someone else. I couldn’t hurt Richard. He loved Sara, and he’d been so good to both of us.
And I had to think of what it would have done to Sara, to suddenly learn that Richard wasn’t her father.”

“How about after he died?”

Nervously she gripped her hands together. “I had my reasons then, too. You’d never once said you loved me, not until much
later, that night on the beach by your home. How did I know you wanted us? I didn’t want to be the one to break up your marriage.
Besides, you were nominated for the vice presidency. How would it sit with the party if they learned you had an illegitimate
daughter? I never, never wanted to hurt you.”

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t have much of a choice. Sara’s safety is more important.”

Adam rubbed trembling fingers over his face. It had been a bitch of a day and not getting better. He wanted to blame Liz and
knew that was wrong.

She touched his arm lightly. “Adam, you’ve changed. The way you came through for Helping Hands, the way that once again people
are more important to you than political motives. And lately, you’ve said you love me. But let’s face the truth. Back seventeen
years ago, when all you could think of was your political goals, would you have been thrilled to learn I was pregnant?”

She’d been truthful with him. She deserved no less. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I had to make a decision quickly. Perhaps I did the wrong thing but…”

Adam stared out at a choppy sea a long moment. All right, so he’d lost those years. But there were still many good years left,
God willing. He’d had a shock, but in a way it was a good shock. He turned to Liz and looked into her anguished eyes. “Yes,
you were wrong not to tell me, in some ways. But I was wrong, too, not to tell you how much I loved you when I moved to Sacramento.
I had this fear that I’d turn out like my father. Stupid. I was stupid.”

“No, not stupid. Not you. We all have fears.”

“It’s silly to go on blaming each other.” He pulled her close. “I love you.”

She closed her eyes on a sigh. “Thank God. I was so afraid to tell you.”

He kissed her long and thoroughly, then stepped back. “She’s really my daughter?” Now the smile came. “But no one else knows?”

“Well, my mother figured it out, and Molly knew how much I loved you, so she guessed early on. But Sara doesn’t know.” Since
he’d never met Nancy, Liz decided to wait to tell him that she’d overheard her phone call. But she remembered something else.
“Something else. I was at Richard’s bedside when he was dying. Never in all the years did he ask who fathered Sara, but one
of the last things he said to me was, Thank Adam for me one day when the time is right. I should have known he’d figured it
out.”

“He was quite a guy.”

“Yes.”

“And now,” he said, his arm around her as they walked to the foyer, “I have to go to Ireland and get our daughter back. Has
a nice ring to it, don’t you think?
Our daughter.”

She wished she could find a smile for him. “A beautiful ring to it.” Turning into his arms, she moved close to his comforting
strength. “Adam, I’m so afraid. So very afraid. She’s… she’s just turned sixteen, and…”

“Don’t, please. We’ll bring her home. You have to believe that.”

At the door she looked up at him. “What about Palmer? What’s he going to say about your going?”

“You let me worry about Palmer. I was ready to go before, just for you. Now that I know she’s mine, nothing will stop me.

That statement gave her courage to give voice to a pressing need. “Adam, I want to go with you, please.” She clutched at his
hands before he could object. “She’s my
baby. I can’t lose her.” Tears were very close again, and she fought to push them back.

He framed her face, caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. “I would take you along if I thought it would do any good. Honestly,
I can do this more easily if I’m alone, if I don’t have to worry about you, too. Trust me.”

“I do.” She kissed him, her arms tight around his neck, wishing his trip were over and all three of them were together, safe
and sound. “Bring her back to me, please.”

“I promise I will.” Never had he made a more important promise.

“A bodyguard? I don’t need a bodyguard.” Adam leaned back on the desk chair, the phone at his ear as he waited on hold for
the State Department. He and Fitz had checked into nearby Grant Hotel and spent a restless night, then rushed back here to
the San Diego office by eight in the morning. Fitz had just come to him with the off-the-wall suggestion. Adam knew it stemmed
from his brother’s concern over the Ireland trip. “I want to keep a low profile, and the only way to do that is to go with
as few people as possible.”

“I didn’t mean just any bodyguard,” Fitz said. “I mean Kowalski.”

Adam hadn’t seen the undercover cop in five or six years, though he’d occasionally read a small article about him in the papers.
Two Secret Service men would have to accompany him, he’d been told. But good as most of them were, not one had Kowalski’s
street savvy, which was probably exactly what he’d need to set up negotiations with the renegade
leader. Fitz’s idea had merit. “I think you might be right. See if Kowalski’s free.”

Fitz nodded. “Right.” He and his brother had had words the previous night when Adam had returned from seeing Liz and announced
he was going to Ireland. Fitz had been against it until Adam had told him why he felt he had to go. That had changed the picture.
Fitz had wondered for years if his suspicions were true, that Adam had fathered Sara Fairchild, and now he knew.

Fitz had suggested that he go instead, but Adam had nixed that. Next Fitz had proposed that he go along, but again Adam had
rejected that. He felt that Fitz was needed here as a liaison and a comfort for Liz. Fitz ran a hand over his chin as he went
to the front office and picked up his black book to locate Kowalski’s number.

In the back, Adam hung up the phone, feeling frustrated. The State Department had reluctantly made all his travel arrangements
but couldn’t or wouldn’t give him any more information than he already had on the status of the hostages. Supposedly Jamie
Hogan and his men were holding the three Americans somewhere in southwest Ulster, not far from Donegal Bay. They’d given him
the name of a contact, Kendrick Ryan, who knew the terrain and frequently went from the British sector to the Irish area.
He was also the old college friend of Wayne’s who’d apparently taken them to Ulster, whether accidentally or on purpose they
had yet to discover. Perhaps Kendrick was the key.

Other than that information, he’d be on his own. And their best advice was, Don’t go.

Aren’t any of you fathers? he’d wanted to yell at the maddeningly calm voice on the phone. How would you feel if one of those
girls were your daughter? But, of course, he hadn’t. He needed to keep his relationship to Sara private. Until she was home
safely, until he and Liz could talk with her, and so as not to give her captors further ammunition,
knowing she was related to a U.S. senator who was running for vice president.

There was so damn much to think about. He couldn’t afford to mess up on this. Carefully he went over the checklist that he’d
scribbled down during his sleepless night. Just as he was finishing he felt more than heard someone in the doorway and looked
up.

“Hello, sugar,” Diane said, smiling sweetly.