Now, however, it seemed to be coming to life again. Les stared at the photo under the headline. It was a good one—exceptionally clear.
And beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was the man who had just come to Les King's room to purchase a glossy of himself for ten dollars. No wonder the sight of that stranger had nagged at Les. He'd seen that face before.
"Now just what in the hell have we got here?" Les mused. Something definitely worth looking into, that was for sure.
4
Dr. Rudolph Entman, one of the world's foremost neurologists, stripped off his rubber gloves and scowled at the strange body that lay on the table before him.
"Goddamn it," he fumed, "it's artificially constructed. It's been hand-made—manufactured. And there's one thing I'd give a few years of my life to know."
Brent Taber stared moodily into Entman's myopic little eyes and asked, "What's that, Doctor?"
"How in hell did they do it?"