This prequel to the adventures of James Bond, 007, introduces us to the young James when he's just started boarding school in England and is about to become involved in his first adventure.

SilverFin

A JAMES BOND ADVENTUREBy CHARLIE HIGSON

Hyperion Paperbacks for Children

Copyright © 2005 Ian Fleming Publications Ltd.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 1-4231-0113-8

Chapter One

THE NEW BOY

The smell and noise and confusion of a hallway full of schoolboys can be quite awful at twenty past seven in the morning. The smell was the worst part-from this great disorderly mass rose the scent of sweat and sour breath and unwashed bodies, mixing with the two-hundred-year-old school odor of carbolic and floor polish.

Boys as a rule don't notice bad smells-they've other things on their minds-but one boy did. He stood alone in the center of all this chaos, while the torrent of excited youth barged past him, and wished he were somewhere else. He wasn't used to these crowds, these numbers, this noise, this smell.

He was a new boy, tall for his age and slim, with pale, gray-blue eyes and black hair that he had tried to brush into a perfect, neat shape but, as usual, failed. One stray lock dropped down over his right eye like a black comma.

A moment ago the hallway had been empty, and the boy had been wondering where everyone was, but now it was alive with shouting pupils who streamed down the stairs and into the dining room.

"You, boy!" barked a voice, and the boy looked around.

A man stood there glaring at him and, despite the fact that he was short, shorter even than some of the boys, he had an air of self-importance about him.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's your name, boy?"

"Bond, James Bond."

"James Bond-sir."

"Yes. Sorry, sir."

The man peered at him. He was stick-thin, with pale skin, deep-set, blue-rimmed eyes, wiry gray hair, and a very short, very black beard that covered nearly half his face. He reminded James a little of King George.

"Do you know who I am, Mr. Bond?" he said coldly.

"I'm afraid not, sir. I just arrived."

"I am Mr. Codrose. Your housemaster. I am to be your father, your priest, and your God for the duration of your stay at this school. I should have ,net you yesterday evening, but some wretched boy walked into the path of an automobile on Long Walk and I spent half the night in the hospital. I trust you saw the Dame?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now you had best run along or you will be late for early school. I will see you for a chat before supper."

"Yes, sir." James turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Codrose stared at James with his cold fish eyes. "Welcome to Eton, Bond."

James had arrived the day before at nearby Windsor station, peering up through clouds of steam at the great walls and towers of Windsor Castle. He had wondered if the king was in there somewhere-maybe he was even sitting at a window, looking down at the train?

He had followed a group of boys out of the station and into Windsor, where they had crossed over the wide, gray waters of the river Thames, which divided the town in two. On one side was the castle and on the other was Eton College. He was amazed at the size of the school; it took up nearly half the town, spreading out chaotically in all directions. More than a thousand boys studied here, all living in the numerous houses scattered haphazardly about the place.

He had asked for directions and eventually found himself wandering, lost, down a long footpath called Judy's Passage, looking hopelessly at the tall, unmarked buildings on either side.

A slightly overweight Indian boy with a white turban had approached him.

"Are you the new chap, by any chance?" he had asked.

"I suppose I might be," said James.

"You are James Bond?"

"Yes."

The boy smiled and shook his hand.

"Pritpal Nandra," he said. "I have been looking out for you."

He led James into a nearby ramshackle building.

"I have the room next to yours," Pritpal said. "I shall be messing with you."

"Messing?"

"We will cook our tea together," Pritpal explained. "And take turns to eat in each other's rooms. You, me, and a third boy. We were wondering what you'd be like."

"Will I do?"

Pritpal smiled again. "I think so."

James followed Pritpal into the dim interior of the house, through the hallway, and up three flights of ancient stairs, before arriving at a long, winding corridor.

"Here we are," said the Indian boy as he pushed open a creaky door, thick with layers of dark-blue paint, and James got the first sight of his room.

It was tiny, with a sloping roof reaching almost to the floor in one corner and a great black beam cutting the ceiling in two. James was relieved to see that his trunk had arrived safely. It was a small reminder of his life before school.

"Your new home," said Pritpal. "Not much to look at now, is it? But you can fix it up. There's your burry."

"My what?"

"Your burry." Pritpal pointed to a battered piece of furniture that consisted of a chest of drawers with a desk on top supporting a small bookcase. It was scratched with the names of previous owners, and one enthusiastic boy had even burned his name into it with a hot poker.

James looked around; as well as the burry there was a small table, a washstand, a Windsor chair, and a thin, faded rug that lay on the floor next to the fireplace. James frowned, there was something missing.

"Where will I sleep?" he asked.

Pritpal laughed.

"Your bed's behind here," he said, indicating a curtain that hung over a bulky object on one wall. "Our boys' maid will fold it down for you just before evening prayers. There is quite a lot to get used to here, but you will soon learn. First thing you must do is get some more pieces for your room. You shall need an ottoman, an armchair, boot box, brush box, some pictures from Blundell's ..."

"Hold on," said James, slumping into the chair. "Not so fast."

"Sorry, old chap," said Pritpal. "But it is important that you make yourself comfortable in here. You will spend half your life in this room."

Half his life? James tried to take that in. This was all so strange for him. For the past couple of years he had been educated at home by an aunt. To be suddenly plunged into this new world with its ancient traditions, its crowds, and its own strange language was quite unsettling.

"Come along," said Pritpal, pulling James up out of his chair. "No shilly-shallying, there is a great deal to be done. Let's go and see who you're up to."

"Up to?"

"Who's going to be teaching you. Follow me, we have to go to School Yard."

Pritpal led James out of Codrose's and back down Judy's Passage to Long Walk, where he stopped, nodding toward an ornate lamppost decorated with elaborate floral ironwork, that stood on an island in the middle of the road.

"That is the Burning Bush," Pritpal said. "It is a famous Eton landmark and a very useful meeting point. Are you getting your bearings all right, old chap?"

Before James could answer Pritpal dragged him across the road and through a large doorway set into the side of a long, square building.

"This is Upper School," said Pritpal, as they passed through the gloom and out into a busy redbrick courtyard on the other side. "The heart of Eton. The statue in the middle is the school founder, King Henry VI. And that's Lupton's Tower behind him. That clock will rule your life! Now, let us see what your fate is."

They squeezed through the pack of boys crowding around the noticeboards and Pritpal talked James through the complicated...