the rays of the early morning sun

light the far wall. "Search the place," Bud ordered. “Look for anything that could be used as a weapon.'

""

Seivers looked at Bud in surprise. Then, he glanced at Candy, who had now 'wilted' a little after the long interrogation in Matek's office. As yet, Bud had told no one of the results of that questioning, and so Al Seivers still regarded Candy as a

woman.

With Bud and Al working together, the search was conclu- ded rapidly. "All right," said Bud to his subordinate, after searching in vain, "you go down and wait for me in the car." Seivers hesitated for a moment, shock on his face. He looked hard at the Acting Lieutenant, who had sat, easily relaxed, upon the room's only sofa. Seivers glanced at Candy, who was standing, staring out of the long window, her arms folded. With a shrug, Seivers picked up his hat from the coffee table and stalked out of the room.

The moment the door had shut, Bud said, "Change. I want to see you as a man.”

Candy turned to look at him. “You can't order me about," she said quietly. "Your search and your presence here are both entirely illegal.”

"You're right," said Hamilton, smiling at her. "So, I'll ask you nicely. Will you please go into your bedroom and change into the clothing of your true sex?"

She looked at him strangely for quite awhile, dark sha- dows now beneath her eyes, her lips still pink but no longer glossy. "You won't like me," she said softly. She tossed her head. "But, all right." As she stepped away from the window, she put a slender hand up to her hair and removed the platinum wig.

Michael John Russell had his own hair cut like a girl skater's with heavy bangs which fell naturally over his forehead. Even the removal of the wig did not change his feminine appear- ance. He looked hard at Bud for a reaction. but there was none, and so he moved gracefully over to the bedroom in his long skirt and high heels and closed the door gently behind him.

In blue jeans, a faded sweater and without any makeup. Michael John Russell liked like a girl of about eighteen. Even without the false eyelashes, he had a dark fringe above his eyes that, with the wisp of shaped eyebrows, made his face that of a coed. His manner of standing was feminine, as was his walk. He had lost many of Candy's curves but the narrowness of 'her' waist was still evident.

"This is as butch as I can be these days," the young girl

-48-