"Anything you say, Chief."
In the morning, Tom Blacker went storming into John Andrusco's plush office.
"Now look, Mr. Andrusco. I don't mind slanting a story a little far. But this Spencer story of yours is nothing but a hoax."
Andrusco looked hurt. "Did he tell you that? How do you like that nerve?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, that story's as genuine as gold. We've known about the freak birth for a long time. Cosmic rays, you know. Those men on that reconnaissance flight really got bombarded."
Tom wasn't sure of himself. "You mean, it's true?"
"Of course it is! As a matter of fact, we've got a photograph of the dead baby, right after it was delivered. The doctor who attended Mrs. Spencer took it without their knowledge, as a medical curiosity. He sold it to us several years ago. We've never used it before, because we knew that the Spencers would just deny it. Now that Walt's willing to cooperate ..."
"Can I see the photo?"