Peter Hubbard and Russell Homer were riding with the sheriff. In the long silence among them, it came to Amos Tarbell that if Hubbard had tried to escape first, he had a reason. The man was no coward. As if to let the scientist know he did not misunderstand, he made conversation. “You think we got all the roaches in there?”

Peter Hubbard did not open his tired eyes. He was sick to death of the insects’ saturnalias of blood, of Wanda Lindstrom’s heartbreaking sacrifice, of the mindless annihilation of Craig Soaras, of all the lives pillaged by the Yarkie miscreations. It was a burden he had accepted as correctly belonging on his shoulders, but it had grown too heavy with terror and death, and he felt he was sagging under it. But he knew, too, that he must keep himself strong. At this point he was truly the only one who could help Yarkie before the killer insects became uncontainable. His reserve plan had a chance of succeeding. No matter how exhausted he was, he had to set it in motion. The scientist hugged the heavy red box to his chest, and glared at the roach container he was steadying between his feet on the floor of the car. His plan required both what was in the box and in the container . . .

The sheriff was repeating the question.

“No,” Hubbard had to answer. “If the roaches are organized the way I now believe, we will have burned up many of their fighters, maybe most of them. But the infestation still comes from a core on the island. I’m convinced of that absolutely. Until we get that core, this will go on and on.”

Russell Homer said under his breath, “Jesus Christ, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Me, too,” the sheriff admitted honestly.

Peter Hubbard fell silent. It was necessary to think through once more the details of the next step he intended in this escalating battle against the killer cockroaches. What exactly were its chances of working? What were its risks?

There would be time enough to tell the others of “Plan B” after they had all taken some breakfast, and after he had primed his “secret weapon.”

They were lucky the Chatham police chief had been able to get his hands on what the plan required. And lucky that Craig Soaras had been able to bring it back to Yarkie without incident.

The thought of Craig Soaras made Peter Hubbard even more determined to succeed. How refreshing it was to enter a world where honesty and decency were the order of the day. Oh, not that Yarkie was a paradise of angels. Of course these people had their faults, like everyone else. Yet their way of life was still based solidly on old, proven truths of getting along through mutual respect and tolerance. They wanted no handouts, no “free lunch.”