Things were awry at the E. Sneed Entwhistle Institute of Radiopharmacology.

Doctors Steubenvlau, Gorgolov, Proconastor, Jones and I held a secret meeting.

“There’s no doubt about it,” I told them, “There is a saboteur, an enemy plant, in this lab.”

Then, I laid the cold, hard facts down. “And that person is standing amongst us now!”

The assembled, in turn, gave each other the fish-eye.

From that moment on, we did our best to remain closely quartered, each watching the other’s actions.

At lunchtime, we crowded into the lunchroom together.

Steubenvlau had his lunchtime lager, Gorgolov his vodka and soda, Proconastor, his spot of tea, Jones, his milk, and I sat there, sipping on my coffee.

My coffee!

When I woke up, I was heavily constrained on a surgical table. Jones held the scalpel as the other three huddled about him.

“Sorry, old buddy,” Jones said, “But you were on the right track. Only, instead of one saboteur, there were four.”

“Sprinklers on!” Jones yelled.

A cold spray of water doused my head. I passed out again.

Awakening once more, Gorgolov handed me a small mirror. I gazed into it.

A bright red flower was growing out of my skull.

“That’s what you get for saying we were an enemy plant!” Jones laughed.

“Now you have a geranium in your cranium!”