Peter Hubbard disagreed. The men listened to him with quick respect. He had to be their leader now, not Johnson or Scott or the sheriff. He said, through the weariness and distress that creased his gaunt face, “I’d like to wait until we try one more way of getting at the heart of this. It’s a strategy I worked out with Dr. Lindstrom.”

The man’s voice broke on the name of his slaughtered colleague. Elizabeth Carr was wrenched at his obvious desolation. There was no way she could console him. She could only offer the compassion and support of her new understanding, and pray that his “strategy” would bring them all new hope against hope. The only consolation for any of them would be the total destruction of the infernal nest, the utter extermination of the raging insects.

Peter Hubbard was going on slowly, weightily. “I haven’t talked about this before because it introduces a new kind of risk.” His voice grew louder and blunt as he disclosed his plan. “It involves the use of radioactive material.”

The silence of the group’s response was a measure of their unpreparedness.

Hubbard lifted the small red box he had not let out of his grasp. “That’s what I have in this box—a radioactive liquid.” He said quickly, “I can assure you that the amounts to be used are very small, and will be no real threat to any of us.”

The staggered sheriff asked, “You mean, Peter, you’re going to put radioactive stuff in the nest when we find it?”

“No. To exterminate them that way would require a quantity that might be dangerous, and could be spread all over the island if we weren’t entirely successful.” He paused, and resumed, “My thought is quite different.” He tapped the red box. “I plan to use this radioactivity to help us locate the nest . . .”

“How in the world—?” Stephen Scott began. The others shushed him, keen to hear the scientist.

“To explain it briefly, I am going to mix a radioactive salt with food for these roaches here.” Hubbard put a finger on the taped lid of the jar he had saved from the lighthouse laboratory. “I have purposely kept these devils hungry.” He eyed them narrowly. They were hyperactive, though it was morning. He judged they were ready for what he had in mind. “After these specimens have eaten radioactive food, I can follow them with a small Geiger counter I have here. My expectation is that they will head straight for their home base . . .”

“Ingenious!” Elizabeth applauded.

Amos Tarbell asked a sensible question. “How do you know what these damn things will do when you set them free? They might just as easily go for you!”