said, referring to the members of Irena's bodyguard who'd been in Army hands since noon that day. "They were supposed to kill her. Lieutenant Frias, who was the communications officer here last night, somehow feels it makes a difference that he didn't, or couldn't assassinate her as she slept."

Abrado Camar leaned for- ward in his chair. "Now will you let the Justice Minister, myself, see these men?" he asked quietly, dark, intense eyes staring at the General.

The Chief of Staff re- laxed in the big chair that would normally have been filled by Irena for this im- promptu meeting of the po- litical and military leaders of the nation. "You would not have this information without my men obtaining it for you,' he said just as quietly, staring back at the Justice Minister. "Perhaps not," said the ex-professor wearily. "But even these men have rights. And I must insist......

♪

""

""

"Insist!" Francisco Fuentes was furious. "All we need to know is whether Irena is alive or dead. Can you answer that for us, General Aguilar?"

"I believe her to be alive." The words echoed across the tense, hushed room. "Frias bun- dled her up in a rug and de- livered her to his brother, Jorge, who was waiting in the Servants' elevator." He paused. "The terms were to deliver her body to Gabredon," he named a village on the out- skirts of the capitol, "so that her body would be found by the World Press after they were tipped off. But some- thing went wrong. Frias thinks that his brother won't do the killing, as he's supposed to, until he gets more money out of the Paymaster, the name he gave to his contact." He fell silent for a moment, reach- ing for a coffee.

"Then, Jorge Frias may also contact us," Consuela Romo

spoke up for the first time. "We should announce that we will meet the price for her return right away. We can out- bid anything the other side offers. We We must!" Her eyes were alight with emotion. "As well, we can guarantee to re- prisals after to Frias."

"If she is still alive," Francisco Fuentes put in quick- ly. Consuela and Isabel both glared at him so fiercely that he soon sat back, looking suitable cowed.

"It's an attractive course to follow," Aguilar mused, fid- geting with a thick pencil in front of him. He gave Consuela an understanding nod. "But no, we can't do that.

""

He was suddenly alert, decisive. He straightened up, his dark eyes grim as he looked about the select group. He had made up his mind. "If this is done openly, it could scare those who hold her into kill- ing her right away. What govern- ment could survive long a public announcement that it would bargain with terrorists, after all? They'd have to suspect a trap. What we must have now is a secret, intense investigation, and if contact is made......well, I think we will negotiate then.' He turned to Abrado Camar. "You must head the search for Irena," he said. "You can call upon all the resources of the state and the Army. Any- thing you need will be given to you.'

A stricken Isabel Ortega waited for the room to clear before she spoke to Consuela. "What were you thinking of?" she asked, her face wrinkled with lines of frustration. “We have to keep this as quiet as possible. If they ever find out that Irena is now a man....." She shuddered.

"Oh stop thinking of your own neck for once!" snapped Consuela. "Try thinking of that poor boy. Don't you think we've put him through enough? What do you think they're doing

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to him now? And can you im- agine what will happen if some- one finds out what he really is? Then there's Ricardo." She turned away from Isabel so that the other girl would not see the tears which came unbidden to her eyes.

The room into which the brunette was pushed was barred at the windows. The thin she'd been called Maria by the driver, stayed with her even though the door was locked from the outside. By the noi- ses from downstairs and the high-pitched squeals from ex- cited women as they went along the passage outside the door, it was clear to Esteban that 'Conchita's' was, in fact, a brothel. He'd been given little chance to see much as he was hurried, his high heels clacking on stone cobbles, from the dark cab to a back entrance to the 'casa.'.

"I'm sorry," whispered the woman, her shoulders slouched in resignation. "I've no change of clothes for you. But I can fix your hair, if you wish."

Esteban waved off her attentions. He was hungry and tired. He felt dirty in the red, silk dress that wasn't his. It seemed that the tight slip was not so tight as it had been. "Can I lie down?" he asked in Irena's lilting tones, indicating the wooden bed.

The woman nodded and sat down in a chair where she could watch Irena. The bed was hard and the covers were used and dirty. Esteban un- fastened the dress and slipped it off, conscious of the woman watching the rustle and sway of petticoats about him. There was a bowl of water on an unpainted table against the wall. He washed his hands, noting that his nails were still shiny from the previous night's application of varnish. He began to wipe off some of the thick