©1958 BY LANTERN PRESS, INC.
Under the title: “YOUNG ATOM DETECTIVE”
BY ARRANGEMENT WITH LANTERN PRESS, INC.
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE 11

CHAPTER TWO 27

CHAPTER THREE 45

CHAPTER FOUR 58

CHAPTER FIVE 72

CHAPTER SIX 89

CHAPTER SEVEN 107

CHAPTER EIGHT 117

CHAPTER NINE 135

CHAPTER TEN 151

CHAPTER ELEVEN 161

CHAPTER TWELVE 172

ILLUSTRATIONS

Page

“Hi, there,” Eddie greeted, “Any luck?” 51

“Come on, Eddie, let’s go back.” 104

The cylinder was simple to locate. 137

... he saw the small rubber boat moving in. 179

YOUNG READERS
Atom Mystery

CHAPTER ONE

It was only a dream. Eddie Taylor would like to have finished it, but the bar of morning sunlight poking in under the window shade pried his eyes open. The dream fled. Eddie kicked off the sheet, swung his feet to the floor, and groped under the bed for his tennis shoes.

He heard his father’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. They stopped outside of his bedroom door.

“You awake, Eddie?”

“I’m awake, Dad,” Eddie answered.

“Breakfast’s ready. Get washed and dressed.”

“Be right there,” Eddie said. Then, remembering the dream, he added, “Oh, Dad, is it all right if I use the Geiger counter today?”

Mr. Taylor opened the door. He was a big man, broad-shouldered and still thin-waisted. Eddie found it easy to believe the stories he had heard about his father being an outstanding football player in his time. Even his glasses and the gray hair at his temples didn’t add much age, although Eddie knew it had been eighteen years since his father had played his last game of college football.

“You may use the Geiger counter any time you want, Eddie,” Mr. Taylor said, “as long as you take good care of it. You figured out where you can find some uranium ore?”

Eddie smiled sheepishly. “I—I had a dream,” he said. “Plain as day. It was out on Cedar Point. I was walking along over some rocks. Suddenly the Geiger counter began clicking like everything.”

“Cedar Point?” his father asked. “I’ve never been out there. But, from what I hear, there are plenty of rock formations. Might be worth a try, at that. You never can tell where you might strike some radioactivity.”

“Do you believe in dreams, Dad?”

“Well, now, that’s a tough question, son. I can’t say that I really do. Still, one clue is as good as another when it comes to hunting uranium ore, I guess. But right now we’d better get out to breakfast before your mother scalps us. Hurry it up.” His father turned and went back down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Eddie pulled on his trousers and T shirt and went into the bathroom. He washed hurriedly, knowing that even if he missed a spot or two, he was fairly safe. During the summer months his freckles got so thick and dark that it would take a magnifying glass to detect any small smudges of dirt hiding among them. He plastered some water on his dark-red hair, pushed a comb through it, and shrugged as it snapped back almost to its original position. Oh, well, he had tried.

He grinned into the mirror, reached a finger into his mouth, and unhooked the small rubber bands from his tooth braces. He dropped them into the waste basket. He’d put fresh ones in after breakfast.

He brushed his teeth carefully, taking particular pains around the metal braces. The tooth-straightening orthodontist had warned him about letting food gather around the metal clamps. It could start cavities.

Finished, Eddie went out to breakfast.

“Good morning, dear,” his mother greeted him, handing him a plate of eggs.

“Hi, Mom,” Eddie said. “Gotta hurry. Big day today.”

“So your father says. But I’m afraid your big day will have to start with sorting out and tying up those newspapers and magazines that have been collecting in the garage.”

“Aw, Mom—”

“Eddie, I asked you to do it three days ago. Remember? And the Goodwill truck comes around today.”

“But, Mom—”

“No arguments, son,” his father put in calmly but firmly. “School vacation doesn’t mean that your chores around here are on vacation, too. Get at it right away, and you’ll still have time to hunt your uranium.

“Well,” Mr. Taylor added, excusing himself from the table, “I’d better be getting over to school. I’m expecting to receive shipment of a new radioisotope today.”

The very word excited Eddie. In fact, anything having to do with atomic science excited him. He knew something about isotopes—pronounced eye-suh-tope. You couldn’t have a father who was head of the atomic-science department at Oceanview College without picking up a little knowledge along the way. Eddie knew that a radioisotope was a material which had been “cooked” in an atomic reactor until it was “hot” with radioactivity. When carefully controlled, the radiation stored up in such isotopes was used in many beneficial ways.

“Why don’t college professors get summer vacations, too?” Eddie asked. One reason for asking that particular question was to keep from prying deeper into the subject of the radioisotope. Much of his father’s work at Oceanview College was of a secret nature. Eddie had learned not to ask questions about it. His father usually volunteered any information he wanted known, so Eddie stuck to questions which could and would be answered.

“We get vacations,” his father said. “But—well, my work is a little different, you know. At the speed atomic science is moving today, we simply can’t afford to waste time. But don’t worry. We’ll take a week or so off before school starts in the fall. Maybe head for the mountains with our tent and sleeping bags.”

“And Geiger counter?” Eddie asked eagerly.

“Wouldn’t think of leaving it home,” his father said, smiling. “By the way, I put new batteries in it the other day. Take it easy on them. Remember to switch it off when you’re not actually using it.”

“I will,” Eddie promised. He had forgotten several times before, weakening the batteries.

It took Eddie over an hour to sort out the newspapers and magazines in the garage, tie them in neat bundles, and place them out on the front curb for the Goodwill pickup. By that time the sun was high overhead. It had driven off the coolness which the ocean air had provided during the earlier hours.

“Anything else, Mom?” he asked, returning to the house and getting the Geiger counter out of the closet. He edged toward the back door before his mother had much time to think of something more for him to do.

“I guess not, dear,” Mrs. Taylor said, smiling over his hasty retreat. “What are you going to do?”

“Think I’ll do a little prospecting,” Eddie said.

“Where?”

“Probably in the hills beyond the college,” Eddie said. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was a little late in the day to go to Cedar Point. The best way to get there was by rowboat across Moon Bay, and that was too long a row to be starting now. Besides, there were plenty of other places around the outskirts of Oceanview where likely looking rock formations invited search with a Geiger counter.

“Are you going alone?” his mother asked.

“Oh, guess I’ll stop by and see if Teena wants to go,” Eddie answered casually. He tried to make it sound as though he would be doing Teena Ross a big favor. After all, she was only a girl. Eddie didn’t figure a girl would make a very good uranium prospecting partner, but most of the fellows he knew were away at camp, or vacationing with their folks, or something like that.

“She’ll enjoy it, I’m sure,” his mother said.

“I’ll take Sandy, too,” Eddie said. “He needs the exercise.”

“That’s a good idea, dear. Be back in time for an early dinner.”

Eddie let Sandy off his chain. The taffy-colored cocker spaniel yipped wildly over his freedom, racing back and forth as Eddie started down the street.

Christina Ross—whom everybody called Teena—lived at the far end of the block. Eddie went around to the side door of the light-green stucco house and knocked.

“Oh, hi, Eddie,” Teena greeted him, appearing at the screen door. “I was hoping you’d come over.”

“Well, I—I just happened to be going by,” Eddie said. “Thought you might want to watch me do a little prospecting with the Geiger counter. But maybe you’re too busy.”

That’s how to handle it, Eddie thought. Don’t act anxious. Let Teena be anxious. Then maybe she’ll even offer to bring along a couple of sandwiches or some fruit.

“Oh, I’d love to go,” Teena said eagerly, “but I’m just finishing the dishes. Come on in.”

“I’m in kind of a hurry.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” She pushed the screen door open for him. “I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

“Stay here, Sandy,” Eddie said. “Sit.” The dog minded, although he looked a bit rebellious.

Eddie went inside and followed Teena to the kitchen. He felt triumphant about the sandwiches.

Teena tossed him a dish towel. “You dry them,” she said.

“Who, me?”

“Why not? You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I can make the sandwiches while you dry the silverware.” She smiled, putting tiny crinkles in her small, slightly upturned nose. She wore her hair in a pony tail. Even though her hair was blond all year long, it seemed even lighter in the summer. Eddie couldn’t tell whether the sun had faded it, or whether her deep summer tan simply made her hair look lighter by contrast. Maybe both.

“Hello, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross said, coming into the kitchen. “Looks like Teena put you to work.”

“She always does, Mrs. Ross,” Eddie said, pretending great injury. “Don’t know why I keep coming over here.”

“I know,” Teena spoke up quickly. “It’s because we’re friends, that’s why.”

Eddie knew she was right. They were friends—good friends. They had been ever since Eddie’s family had moved to Oceanview and his father had become head of the college’s atomic-science department. In fact, their parents were close friends, also. Teena’s father was chief engineer for the Acme Aviation Company, one of the coast town’s largest manufacturing concerns.

“Well, I’ll be glad to finish them, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross offered. “I know how boys detest doing dishes.”

“Oh, I don’t really mind, Mrs. Ross,” Eddie said. “Besides, Teena’s making sandwiches to take with us.”

“Another prospecting trip?” Teena’s mother glanced at the Geiger counter which Eddie had set carefully on the dinette table.

“I still think there must be some uranium around here,” Eddie insisted. “And we can find it if anyone can.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Ross said. “But even if you don’t find it, you both seem to enjoy your hikes.”

“Oh, yes, it’s fun, Mother,” Teena replied, wrapping wax paper around a sandwich. “Guess I’m ready. I’ve got a bone for Sandy, too.”

“Don’t go too far out from town,” Mrs. Ross cautioned, as Eddie picked up the Geiger counter. “And stick near the main roads. You know the rules.”

“We sure do, Mrs. Ross,” Eddie assured her. “And we’ll be back early.”

They walked past the college campus, and toward the rocky foothills beyond. At various rock mounds and outcroppings, Eddie switched on the Geiger counter. The needle of the dial on the black box wavered slightly. A slow clicking came through the earphones, but Eddie knew these indicated no more than a normal background count. There were slight traces of radioactivity in almost all earth or rocks. It was in the air itself, caused by mysterious and ever-present cosmic rays, so there was always a mild background count when the Geiger counter was turned on; but to mean anything, the needle had to jump far ahead on the gauge, and the clicking through the earphones had to speed up until it sounded almost like bacon frying in a hot skillet.

There was none of that today. After they had hiked and searched most of the forenoon, Eddie said, “We might as well call it a day, Teena. Doesn’t seem to be anything out here.”

“It’s all right with me,” Teena agreed, plucking foxtails from Sandy’s ears. “Pretty hot, anyway. Let’s eat our sandwiches and go back home.”

“All right,” Eddie said. “You know, one of these days I’d like to go out to Cedar Point and scout around. Maybe we’ll find something there.” Then he told Teena about his dream.

Teena smiled. “A dream sure isn’t much to go on,” she said, “but they say it’s pretty out on Cedar Point. I’ll go any time you want to, Eddie.” She handed him one of the sandwiches.

It was midafternoon by the time they arrived back at Teena’s house. They worked a while on a new jigsaw puzzle Teena had received on a recent birthday. Then Eddie said good-by and went on down the street toward his own home.

After putting Sandy on his long chain and filling his water dish, Eddie went in the back door. He put the Geiger counter in the closet and went into the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner, Mom?” he asked.

Mrs. Taylor turned from the sink. Eddie knew at once, just seeing the expression on his mother’s face, that something was wrong.

“Dinner?” his mother said absently. “It’s not quite four o’clock yet, Eddie. Besides, dinner may be a little late today.”

“But this morning you said it would be early,” Eddie reminded her, puzzled.

“This morning I didn’t know what might happen.”

Then Eddie heard the sound of his father’s voice coming from the den. There was a strange urgent tone in it. The door to the den was open. Eddie went through the dining room and glanced into the den. His father sat stiffly behind his homemade desk, talking rapidly into the telephone. Eddie caught only the last few sketchy words. Then his father placed the telephone in its cradle, glanced up, and saw Eddie.

If there had been even the slightest doubt in Eddie’s mind about something being wrong, it vanished now. Mr. Taylor looked years older than he had that very morning. Worry lay deep in his eyes. He fumbled thoughtfully with a pencil, turning it end over end on his desk.

“Hello, son,” he said. He didn’t even ask whether Eddie had discovered any uranium ore that day. Always before, he had shown genuine interest in Eddie’s prospecting trips.

“Dad,” Eddie said anxiously, “what—what’s the matter?”

“It shows that much, does it, son?” his father said tiredly.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Eddie prompted. “Or can’t you tell me?”

Mr. Taylor leaned back. “Quite a bit’s wrong, Eddie,” he said, “and I guess there’s no reason why I shouldn’t tell you. It’ll be in the evening papers, anyway.”

“Evening papers?”

“Eddie, you remember me mentioning this morning about that radioisotope shipment I was expecting today?”

“I remember,” Eddie said. “Did it come?”

“It did—and it didn’t,” his father said.

“What does that mean, Dad?” Eddie asked, puzzled.

“The delivery truck arrived at the school with it,” his father explained, “but while the driver was inquiring where to put it, the container disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“The radioisotope was stolen, Eddie,” his father said slowly. “Stolen right out from under our noses!”

CHAPTER TWO

At the moment, Eddie didn’t pry for further information on the theft of the valuable radioactive isotope. His father had plenty on his mind, as it was. The main information was in the evening Globe, which Eddie rushed out to get as soon as he heard it plop onto the front porch.

He took the newspaper to his father to read first. After having finished, Mr. Taylor handed the paper to Eddie and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.

“They’ve got it pretty straight, at that,” Mr. Taylor said, “but I’m afraid this is going to stir up quite a bit of trouble.”

“It wasn’t your fault, was it, Dad?” Eddie defended.

“It was as much mine as anybody’s, son,” his father said. “Probably more so. After all, I am head of the department. I knew about the shipment. That should make it my responsibility to see that it was properly received and placed in our atomic-materials storage vault. But there is little point in trying to place the blame on anyone. I’m willing to accept that part of it. The important thing is that we recover that radioisotope. Not only is it of a secret nature, but it is also dangerously radioactive if improperly handled.”

“But—but wasn’t it in a safe container?” Eddie asked.

“Of course,” his father said. “There were only two ounces of it in a fifty-pound lead capsule. As long as it remains in that capsule it’s safe. As you know, the lead prevents any radiation from escaping. Out of that capsule, however, those two ounces of radioisotope can be very dangerous.”

“Fifty pounds,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty big thing to steal, isn’t it?”

“Not when it’s lead, son,” his father replied. “Not much bigger than a two-quart milk bottle, in fact.”

“Even at that, no kid could have taken it,” Eddie said.

“Kid?” His father smiled thinly. “We don’t think it was any kid, Eddie. Not by a long shot. The whole thing was carefully planned and carefully carried out. It was not the work of amateurs.”

Eddie read the newspaper account. The small truck from Drake Ridge, where one of the country’s newest atomic reactors was located, had arrived earlier than expected at Oceanview College. It had backed up to the receiving dock where all of the college supplies were delivered. Since deliveries during vacation months were few, there was no one on the dock when the truck arrived. A half hour later, when the delivery was expected, there would have been. The truck’s early arrival had caught them unprepared.

The driver had left the truck and had gone around the building to the front office. It had taken him less than five minutes to locate the receiving-dock foreman. Together, they had returned through the small warehouse and opened the rear door onto the dock.

During that short time someone had pried open the heavy padlock on the delivery truck’s rear door and had stolen the fifty-pound lead capsule containing the radioisotope.

Dusty footprints on the pavement around the rear of the truck indicated that two men had carried out the theft. A heavy iron pry bar had been dropped at the rear of the truck after the lock was sprung. It was a common type used by carpenters. There were no fingerprints or other identifying marks on it. The footprints were barely visible and of no help other than to indicate that two men were involved in the crime.

“Dad,” Eddie asked, looking up from the paper, “how could anyone carry away something weighing fifty pounds without being noticed?”

“Chances are they had their car parked nearby,” his father said. “As you know, there are no fences or gates around Oceanview College. People come and go as they please. As a matter of fact, there are always quite a few automobiles parked around the shipping and receiving building, and parking space is scarce even during summer sessions. Anyone could park and wait there unnoticed. Or they could walk around without attracting any undue attention.”

“But, Dad,” Eddie continued, “how would the men know that the delivery truck would arrive a half hour early?”

“They wouldn’t,” his father said. “They may have had another plan. The way things worked out, they didn’t need to use it. The early delivery and the business of leaving the truck unguarded for a few minutes probably gave them a better opportunity than they had expected. At least, they took quick advantage of it.”

“I don’t see what anyone would want with a radioisotope,” Eddie said. “Maybe they figured there was something else inside of that lead capsule.”

“That’s unlikely, son,” Mr. Taylor said. “Believe me, it was no common theft. Nor were the thieves ordinary thieves. That isotope was a new one. A very secret one. Our job at the college was to conduct various tests with it in order to find out exactly how it could best be put to use as a cure for disease, or for sterilizing food, or even as a source of power.”

“Power?” Eddie said. “Boy, it must have been a strong isotope.” He knew that the strength of radioisotopes could be controlled largely by the length of time they were allowed to “cook” in an atomic reactor and soak up radioactivity.

“We weren’t planning to run a submarine with it,” his father said. “It wasn’t that strong. Still, it doesn’t take so very much radioactivity to make two ounces of an isotope quite powerful—and quite deadly. I only hope whoever stole it knows what he’s doing. However, I’m sure he does.”

“You mean he must have been an atomic scientist himself?” Eddie asked.

“Let’s just say he—or both of them—have enough training in the subject to know how to handle that isotope safely,” Mr. Taylor said.

“But, Dad,” Eddie wondered, “what could they do with it?”

“They could study it,” his father explained. “At least, they could send it somewhere to be broken down and studied. Being a new isotope, the formula is of great value.”

“What do you mean, send it somewhere?” Eddie asked.

“Perhaps to some other country.”

“Then—then you mean whoever stole it were spies!” Eddie exclaimed breathlessly.

“That’s entirely possible,” his father said. “In fact, it’s the only logical explanation I can think of. People simply don’t go around stealing radioactive isotopes without a mighty important reason.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Eddie’s mother called from the kitchen.

During dinner Eddie wasn’t sure just what he was eating. The idea of spies stealing atomic materials kept building up in his mind. By the time dessert was finished, he was anxious to talk with someone, yet he knew he shouldn’t bother his father with any more questions. He asked if he could go over and visit with Teena for a while.

“Well, you were together most of the day,” his mother said, “but I guess it’s all right. Be back in about an hour, though.”

It was a balmy evening. On such evenings, he and Teena sometimes walked along the beach barefoot, collecting sea shells. Today Eddie had no desire to do that. He ran down the block.

Teena answered his knock.

“Come on in, Eddie,” she invited, seeming surprised to see him. “Mother and I are just finishing dinner.”

“Oh, I figured you’d be through by now,” Eddie apologized, following her inside.

“Hello, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross said, but she didn’t seem as cheerful as usual.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ross,” Eddie said. “I—I hope I’m not making a pest of myself.” He looked around for Mr. Ross, but Teena’s father apparently hadn’t arrived home from Acme Aircraft yet. There wasn’t a place set for him at the table, either.

“You’re never a pest, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross assured him. “I was going to call your mother in a little while about that newspaper write-up.”

“Oh, you read it?” Eddie said.

“How could anyone miss it?” Teena said. “Right on the front page.”

“I suppose your father is quite concerned over it,” Teena’s mother said.

“Oh, yes,” Eddie affirmed. “He was the one who ordered the isotope.”

“What’s an isotope?” Teena asked.

“I’m not sure I know, either,” Mrs. Ross said. “Maybe we could understand more of what it’s all about if you could explain what a radioisotope is, Eddie.”

“Well,” Eddie said slowly, “it’s not easy to explain, but I’ll try. You know how rare uranium is. There’s not nearly enough of it to fill all the needs for radioactive materials. Besides, pure uranium is so powerful and expensive and dangerous to handle that it’s not a very good idea to try using it in its true form. So they build an atomic reactor like the one at Drake Ridge.”

“We’ve driven by it,” Mrs. Ross said. “My, it’s a big place.”

“I’ll say,” Eddie agreed. “Of course, only one building holds the reactor itself. It’s the biggest building near the center.”

“I remember it,” Teena said.

“Well, the reactor is about four stories high,” Eddie went on. “They call it a uranium ‘pile.’ It’s made up of hundreds and hundreds of graphite bricks. That’s where they get the name ‘pile’—from brick pile. Anyway, scattered around in between the bricks are small bits of uranium. Uranium atoms are radioactive. That is, they keep splitting up and sending out rays.”

“Why do they do that?” Teena asked.

“It’s just the way nature made uranium, I guess,” Eddie said. “Most atoms stay in one piece, although they move around lickety-split all of the time. Uranium atoms not only move around, but they break apart. They shoot out little particles called neutrons. These neutrons hit other atoms and split them apart, sending out more neutrons. It’s a regular chain reaction.”

“I’ve heard of chain reactions,” Mrs. Ross said.

“Well, with all of the splitting up and moving around of the uranium atoms,” Eddie went on, “an awful lot of heat builds up. If they don’t control it—well, you’ve seen pictures of atomic-bomb explosions. That’s a chain reaction out of control.”

“Out of control is right,” Teena said.

“But the atomic piles control the reaction,” Eddie said. “The graphite bricks keep the splitting-up atoms apart so one neutron won’t go smashing into other atoms unless they want it to. They have ways of controlling it so that only as much radiation builds up as they want. You can even hear the reactor hum as the radioactive rays go tearing through it. But by careful tending, the scientists keep the atomic collisions far enough apart so the thing doesn’t blow up.”

“Boy, that sounds dangerous,” Teena said.

“Well, they know just how to do it,” Eddie replied.

“Aren’t the rays dangerous?” Mrs. Ross asked.

“I’ll say they’re dangerous,” Eddie said. “But the whole pile is covered by a shield of concrete about eight feet thick. That keeps the rays from getting out and injuring the workmen.”

“Goodness. Eight feet is a lot of cement.”

“It takes a lot to stop radioactive atomic particles,” Eddie explained. “Especially the gamma rays. They’re the fastest and most dangerous, and the hardest to stop. Alpha and beta rays are fairly easy to stop. But the gamma rays are regular high-velocity invisible bullets. They’ll go right through a stone wall unless it’s plenty thick. Of course, you can’t see them. Not with even the most powerful microscope in the world.”

“I wouldn’t want to work around a place where I might get shot at by—by dangerous rays you can’t even see,” Teena said.

“I would,” Eddie said. “Everyone is carefully protected. They see to that. Well, anyway, if all of those uranium atoms were shooting radioactive rays around inside of that pile and doing nothing, there would be an awful lot of energy going to waste. So the atomic scientists take certain elements which aren’t radioactive, but can be made radioactive, and shove small pieces of them into holes drilled in the pile.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Teena asked.

“They don’t shove them in with their bare hands,” Eddie said, trying not to show exasperation. “They use long holders to push the small chunks of material into the holes in the reactor. Then, as those uranium atoms keep splitting up and shooting particles around inside of the pile, some of them smack into the chunks of material, and stick there. Most elements will soak up radiation, just like a sponge soaks up water.”

“My, that’s interesting, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross said.

“I’ve seen them do it,” Eddie said proudly, then added, “from behind a protective shield, of course. When the material has soaked up enough radiation, they pull it back out. They say it’s ‘cooked.’”

“You mean it’s hot?” Teena asked.

“It’s hot,” Eddie said, “but not like if it came out of a stove. By hot, they mean it’s radioactive. If you touched it, or even got near it, you would get burned, but you probably wouldn’t even know it for a while. It would be a radiation burn. That’s a kind of burn you don’t feel, but it destroys your blood cells and tissues, and—well, you’ve had it.”

“So that’s what a radioisotope is,” Mrs. Ross said. “It’s like a sponge. Only instead of soaking up water, it soaks up radiation.”

“That’s about it,” Eddie said. “My dad says that as more is learned about the ways to use isotopes, the whole world is going to be improved. You’ve heard of radiocobalt for curing cancer. Well, that’s an isotope. They make it by cooking cobalt in an atomic reactor. Oh, there are hundreds of different isotopes. Like I said, isotopes can be made of most of the elements. And there are over a hundred elements. Some soak up a lot of radioactivity, and are strong and dangerous. Others absorb only a little and are pretty safe to use. Depends, too, on how long they let them cook in the reactor.”

“What kind was the one stolen from the college today?” Teena asked.

“Dad didn’t say exactly,” Eddie answered, “except he did say that if whoever took it didn’t know what he was doing and opened up the lead capsule, it could kill him. Of course, even the mild isotopes are deadly if they’re not handled right.”

“My goodness, it is a serious matter, isn’t it?” Mrs. Ross said.

Eddie nodded. It was even more serious than its threat of danger to anyone who handled it carelessly. It was a new isotope—a secret isotope. His father hadn’t said whether it had been developed for curing things or for destroying things. But many radioisotopes could do either; it depended on how they were used. Eddie assumed that anyone who would stoop to stealing isotopes more than likely would be interested in their ability to destroy rather than their ability to benefit mankind.

“Well, I certainly do hope everything works out all right,” Teena’s mother said.

“So do I,” Teena agreed.

Eddie glanced at the kitchen clock. “Oh, boy,” he said, “I’d better be heading back home. I didn’t mean to come over here and talk so long.”

“Oh, we’re glad you did, Eddie,” Mrs. Ross said. “I’m afraid too few of us know anything about this atom business.”

“That’s right, Mrs. Ross,” Eddie agreed. “People should talk more and read more about it. After all, this is an atomic age. We might as well face it. My father says that in horse-and-buggy days everyone knew how to feed a horse and grease a wagon wheel. They knew what was needed to get the work done. But now that atoms are being harnessed to do the work, not many people even bother to find out what an atom is.”

Mrs. Ross smiled. “I guess you’re right, Eddie,” she said, “but I wouldn’t quite know how to go about feeding an atom.”

“Or greasing one,” Teena added.

Eddie laughed. “I sure wouldn’t want the job of trying to feed a herd of them the size of a period,” he said. “Did you know that there are about three million billion atoms of carbon in a single period printed at the end of a sentence. That’s how small atoms are.”

“Three million billion is a lot of something,” a man’s voice spoke behind him. “What are we talking about, Eddie?”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Ross,” Eddie said, turning around and standing up. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Teena’s father was a medium-sized man with light-brown hair which was getting somewhat thin on top. He was usually quite cheerful and full of fun, but tonight his face seemed unusually drawn and sober. He stepped to the table, leaned over, and gave both Teena and Mrs. Ross a kiss on the cheek.

“Eddie was telling us about atoms,” Teena’s mother said. “Did you know there were three million billion of them in a period?”

“How many in a comma?” Mr. Ross said to Eddie, then added quickly, “forget it, Eddie. It wasn’t very funny. I—I’m afraid I don’t feel very funny tonight.”

“Sit down, dear,” Mrs. Ross said. “I’ll warm your dinner. You didn’t sound very cheerful when you called to say you would be late. How did everything go at the plant today?”

“Not so good,” Teena’s father said tiredly. “In fact, not good at all.”

Problems. It seemed that everyone had problems, Eddie thought, as he started to leave.

CHAPTER THREE

Three days later Eddie learned the nature of the trouble at Acme Aircraft Company. It was midmorning Saturday. Carrying a picnic lunch, he and Teena were hiking along the beach toward the distant U.S. Coast Guard lighthouse which stood on a high point overlooking Moon Bay. Old Captain Daniels, the lightkeeper, had been a friend of theirs for nearly two years. Every once in a while Teena and Eddie went to visit “Cap,” as they fondly called him. Teena would put up a picnic lunch which they shared with the kindly old man whose lonely vigil over the light had warned ships off the rocky coast for a good many years.

Eddie wasn’t sure exactly how the conversation got around to Acme Aircraft Company. It seemed that Teena mentioned something about trouble. Eddie asked, “What trouble?”

“Didn’t you read the paper this morning?” Teena asked.

“We don’t take the morning paper,” Eddie said. “We take the Globe.”

“The aircraft company has been keeping it quiet,” Teena said, “but somehow the news leaked out. It was all in this morning’s paper.”

Actually, Eddie doubted that he would have noticed it, even if they had taken the morning paper. The big thing around his house was the disappearance of the radioisotope. No promising clues had been found. The theft of the isotope remained as much a mystery as it had been from the first day. The few times he had seen his father, he had noticed how much deeper the lines of worry on his face had become. Eddie had avoided asking questions, yet he couldn’t help wondering if his father was in danger of losing his job at the college. Some of the things his mother had said seemed to hint at the possibility.