opened the suitcase she had brought with her, and took out a pair of panti-hose. It astonished Consuela that 'she' dressed eagerly and without any urging from her in very feminine clothing. The white, lace-trimmed slip and then the white dress fitted Irena almost perfectly. 'She' checked the fit 'herself' in the mirror, even checking to see that the slip was concealed when 'she' sat in the tight dress, just as Con- suela herself had done Esteban's presence before.

in

Consuela helped 'her' with 'her' makeup, mainly because the 'girl' wasn't satisfied until her eyes were shaded and out- lined perfectly, changing them from being merely attractive to being very strikingly female. 'She' was poised and confident as 'she' selected white, high- heeled shoes to walk with Consuela down to the waiting limousine. The soldiers outside gave 'her' a great cheer, crowding 'round the car as she smiled at them and gave them all a gentle wave. Just Just like the original Irena, Consuela thought shakily. My God, she really thinks that she is Irena!

XIV

NOTHING IS FOREVER

a

The bitterly fought 'Chaco War' was now largely a memory thanks to the leadership of President Irena Varga in the preceding year and half. The chanting crowds that massed in Revolution Square would not go home, after the first, truly free, elections in the country's history, until Irena had pre- sented herself to them one more time from the balcony overlooking the Square.

Irena was quite serious as she went forward. She wore a long, white dress, but with

a modest veil over her well- formed cleavage up to a silver collar at her neck. She waved a slender arm, bringing roars from the crowd, the floodlights glinting off her diamond ring and the slender, silver bracelet at her wrist. Beside her, the ex- General Ramon Aguilar, dark- faced, smiled broadly and took her other arm to raise it to the crowd, bringing forth even great- er cries of adulation. Still Irena did not smile.

She had let her hair grow a little since the terrible assass- ination/kidnapping plots of Francisco Fuentes, the oppor- tunist who had tried to split the Revolution between the Left, the Party Regulars and the Army, believing that he would finally benefit from the rupture. Irena's hair now rested, shining, waved and lacquered, on the base of her neck. A heavy fringe, curled across her fore- head, was also held stiffly in place; yet, her blonde streaks shone in the light of flashing camera bulbs.

She turned and went to the glass doors leading back to her rooms in the Palace of the Revolution. Cheers erupted wildly again as she brought forward Ernesto Figueroa and Osvaldo Tucuman, leaders of the People's Labour Party, newly formed, that had lost the elec- tion that night.

They both smiled at her and shook hands with the new Prime Minister while the crowd screamed its approval. Whether a form of parliamentary demo- cracy, the constitutional govern- ment the Revolutionary Junta had ceded its powers to, would work in El Monte, was not yet certain, but there was a spirit in the air, as if something new and historically important was being achieved in the Am- erican republic.

Only when Aguilar raised the hands of his ex-comrades in the now dissolved Party of the Revolution did Irena part her pink lips in a beautiful

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smile. It had been Figueroa's condition for a peaceful elec- tion that she remain as Head of State with the army at her beck and call. She had wanted to give up the Presidency and retire to private life, and, when that desire was known, she had become more popular than ever.

"They'll carry on most of the night," said a smiling Louis Ward as she stepped back into the long room. He had pulled almost every string in the book to be appointed Ambassador to El Monte.

"I know," she said, sighing. She looked into the gilt-edged mirror over the fireplace, slip- ped off her glittering high heels, and then took off her earrings. She still looks so young and fresh, thought Ward. It was incredible that she should still appear to be a young girl of twenty or so.

Her permanent secretary, Consuela Romo, also well dress- ed in a dark evening gown for the occasion, came over to join them, bearing glasses of cham- pagne for Irena and herself. "Ramon will find the next six months harder than to- night," she said cryptically eyeing the President's groom- ing. Her blue eyeshadow was overdone for closeup work like in this room, but it must have been very effective for the mob scene outside.

"He's a hard worker. He'll get by." Irena murmured hus- kily. She still hadn't recovered full control of her voice tone, Ward noted, since that first attempt on her life.

"Will you get by without real power?" asked Ward in a bantering tone, but Irena took it seriously, as she did every- thing since the Chaco War. She had really changed.

"I won't be Head of State forever," she said quietly. Her complexion was so soft that Ward felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and stroke her. "Abrado would be a better