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FUN 'N' GAMES with COCHRAN!

50

COCHRAN

"Why can't you just wear a towel in your belt like the other quarterbacks?"

"Oh," Consuela's reply was

"Yes," Ward smiled. "He was very kind to me when I was one of his students at Davila. The University," he added, as Consuela changed not one iota of her expression.

"Really," she said at last, glancing over to Irena, a worry- frown suddenly creasing her forehead.

Ward, too, glanced back to the President. She had not risen when he entered, and he was not quite certain what this informality was being staged for.

"Come. Sit here, Mr. Ward," said Irena gently, almost as if responding to her Secre- tary's glance. Consuela stood and indicated to a chair for Fuentes, who sat down silent- ly, almost sullenly.

"You haven't changed at all, Irena," said Ward as he sat beside the President and nodded as she offered coffee. "Well, your hair's different, naturally," he laughed as if at some private joke they both shared. "but you do look younger than the last time we were together."

Given as a compliment, the words had a surprising effect on Irena. The coffee

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cup in her hand shook notice- ably as she stared at him, a most guarded look in her eyes. Close to, she was even attractive than his memories of her. The responsibility of political office had changed her only in that she had lost that excessive, flirtatious sensuality that he remembered best of all. It had been wearing that she was constantly the coquette with every man about her, seemingly attracted to anything in pants to an equal, high degree.

Now, she raised a well- shaped eyebrow in a familiar gesture as she smiled tenta- tively at Ward. "The Revolu- tion has kept me young," she murmured lamely.

Ward frowned. "That must have been quite a wound, hc said. "You are lucky you can still talk at all."

Irena nodded, turning away from him as Consuela stepped over to assist with coffee. "This," said Irena, touching the neck bandage, "and my damaged vocal cords are the result of the first attempt on my life. The gunman was from your country.'

""

Ward froze, his face registering his shock and dis- may. The beautiful face had no accusation on it. "You have

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proof?" he asked incredulously.

Irena nodded. "We have used the bombing to conceal that there must also have been assistance to the would-be assassin from high Party mem- bers." There was no fright in her calm eyes as she spoke huskily of of such frightening

matters to Ward.

"And this latest bomb? It was intended also for you?" Ward asked, wanting to reach out and take those soft, well- manicured hands.

Irena nodded, her hair dis- turbing long, black earrings. "It appears so," she said hus- kily. "Since the bullet in my throat didn't kill me, they tried something else." Her em- phasis on the incident made Ward appreciate why she sounded a little different to her former self.

"An inch or so the other way with that bullet," put in Consuela, "and this conference would not have been possible.'

"

"Surely you don't think that the U.S. Government....?" Ward began, but the shake of Irena's blonde-streaked hair was enough on that topic. "Have you any idea who is behind these attempts?" he asked guardedly, thinking of the Am- erican support behind Boca in the past.

"Several arrests have been made," said Irena with a deli- cate shrug. She shifted rest-

Paula MD-8-M