"He looks younger already, ' Gin said.

Right, Duncan thought as he trimmed a wedge of platysma. Just what I want to do, make this bastard look younger.

What he really would have liked to do was restructure Vincent's features into a configuration that reflected the man within. Not too hard with Vincent . . . slant the eyes, tilt up the nose, spread the nostrils, flare the lips . . . and find some way to make him say "I'm

Senator Harold Hogg, potentate of the pork barrel.

He smiled under the mask. He'd had so many of Congress's Old Boys on the table, he could have changed the face of American politics by now, literally.

I could be Dr. Moreau in reverse. Instead of vivisecting animals into men, I'd recast pols into the animals and reptiles they emulate. I could wear a mask and skulk through the halls of the Capitol, Duncan Lathram, the anti-Moreau, demon doctor of devolution, Phantom of the Longworth Building, scourge of the Senate shuttle. A peal of insane laughter now and I'll be ready for Hollywood .

He sighed. Nothing so melodramatic for Senator Vincent. But Duncan did have definite plans for him.

Don't worry, Senator. You'll get yours. Trust me.

As he was placing the final implants he heard Gin's voice but didn't catch what she said.

"Hmmm? " "I said, what is it exactly that so irks you about the joint committee?

Gin's dark, dark eyes were fixed on him expectantly, as if his answer mattered very much to her. Under that cap and mask was a sultry Mediterranean beauty with wild, glossy black hair, full lips, high cheekbones, and flawless skin. A narrow waist and a perfect bust.

Nothing at all like the pimply, pudgy adolescent who'd worked in his file room a dozen or so years ago. In fact, when she'd shown up last June looking for part-time work as a physician, and told him who she was, he'd half considered having her investigated as an impostor.