RANSVESTIA

"I'm sorry, Ted, that this case put you under such pressure. Your devotion to duty is commendable."

"I'm Cynthia, Chief. Don't you understand?"

"Yes, yes, dear Cynthia. I understand completely," he soothed, patting her hand to humor her. Guess he isn't fully recovered yet, Harry thought to himself. I'll have to handle this situation very carefully.

"Now, Cynthia, what were you saying when Barrett's call interrupted us?"

"I was telling you not to bother getting me any men's clothing."

In the light of what he now knew, Harry could see the sense of her desire.

"Yes, I can understand your position, Cynthia. Before you change sex, you want those things removed. I'll make an immediate appointment with the staff surgeon." Harry reached for the phone. A look of horror swept over Cynthia's face.

"No! I don't want any more surgery," she protested.

Harry was puzzled until he noticed that she was clutching her skirt tightly and realized there had been a serious misunderstanding.

"The implants I mean, of course. Sorry to scare you."

Cynthia relaxed somewhat, but shifted her hands to her chest. "No surgery," she said firmly.

Harry was thoroughly perplexed. Could an agent who had demon- strated such courage in the Zubinski affair actually be afraid of the sur- geon's knife? "Was the operation that bad, dear?" taking her hand in his again and looking for fear in her eyes. Only, he didn't see any. In fact, they were sparkling.

"Oh, dear, no! Nothing much at all. And when I saw the results, I al- most forgot the pain."

The real truth of the situation finally began to sink into Harry's thick

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