Quentin James and the Undercover Agent: The Quentin James Adventures, #1

By Simon Hartwell

Harry Potter meets James Bond as Quentin joins a school for young spies and learns of a rogue organisation that threatens the world.

Quentin joins a school for young spies and learns of a rogue organisation that threatens the world.

 

After his estranged parents are declared traitors, Quentin James is whisked away from the only life he has known and placed within a school for young spies.Quentin's new life brings many new challenges and emotions as he deals with a new school, bullying, jealousy, girls, and responsibility for others as he sets about solving a mystery that puts his life in peril, challenges his moral code and tests the bonds of new found friendship.Realising a break in to the Records Room has to be an inside job,

 

Quentin, together with his new friends Clive, Vicky, and Bluey set out to unmask the undercover agent within their midst only to discover so much more.

 

Solve the puzzles, break the codes and help Quentin identify the Undercover Agent.

Quentin James and the Undercover Agent is the first in the series of fast-paced, action, mystery, often times, funny adventures for readers aged 8 and up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Hartwell
• Release date: Jan 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386559740

Book preview

AUTHOR’s NOTE

Parallels have been drawn between this, my first Quentin James adventure and J K Rowling’s first Harry Potter novel and for good reason. They both feature a young boy embarking on a life-changing adventure, one in espionage the other in magic.

It was after watching the final movie instalment of the Harry Potter saga, Quentin James was first imagined. I was lying in bed thinking, What would I like to watch and the rest just followed.

The parallels were quite unintentional but once it was pointed out to me and I took a breath from defending my work rigorously, I saw J K Rowling’s novels have had an influence on my writing and hope Ms Rowling sees Quentin James and the Undercover Agent as homage to her inspirational work.

Whilst The Undercover Agent can be compared to the Philosopher’s Stone, Quentin’s story moves very much in a different direction in The Loch of Arthur and beyond as Quentin James seeks to clear his estranged parents’ name.

Simon

PROLOUGE

‘General, General,’ said Mr Fisher, bursting into General Winters’ Office.

‘Blast and damn it, man, I nearly split my tea! What’s the meaning of this?’

‘It is true? About the James’s, I mean.’

General Winters shook his hand, sending drops of tea flying across the floor.

‘Is nothing secret in this place?’ he said finally.

‘I’m read in,’ said Mr Fisher. ‘About the James’s, that is. It’s the boy you see.’

‘The boy? What boy?’

‘Quentin, General,’ said Mrs Evans, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. ‘Quentin James.’

‘What about him?’

‘You are aware of the Super Soldier programs I take it?’

‘I am, Mrs Evans, I am. Failures, all of them. Messing with their brains, it’s no wonder they went rogue.’

‘Quite, well, what if we could... influence a person’s skill set, say,’ said Mr Fisher, ‘before they were born?’

‘Guide is a better word,’ said Mrs Evans.

Mr Fisher thought about that for a moment before nodding.

‘Guide is a better word, or manipulated?’

‘What did I do to end up babysitting a bunch of scientists?’ said General Winters, looking up at the ceiling. ‘English please, what are you both blathering on about?’

‘Thirty years ago, we started a program that went beyond brain washing and manipulation. We got rid of the chemical enhancement program and went deeper,’ said Mr Fisher.

‘Deeper?’ asked the General.

‘We went to the DNA,’ said Mrs Evans.

‘And Mark and Jenny James are part of this program?’

Mrs Evans shook her head.

Not the parents, no, well, not exactly. But the boy, Quentin, is.

‘He needs to be brought in, General,’ said Mr Fisher.

‘Brought in! If his parents are traitors, we should lock him up,’ said the General. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know.’

‘He’s just a boy,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘As estranged from his parents as one can be without being an orphan.’

‘And he’s special,’ said Mr Fisher. ‘Very special.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Edgewater, General. It’s safe, secure. We can keep an eye on him there without jeopardising the program,’ said Mrs Evans.

‘And it’s possible the Russians might try and take him, if the rumours are true,’ said Mr Fisher.

General Winters thought for a moment, nodded, and picked up the phone.

‘Get me Captain Macpherson.’

GLADWELL SCHOOL

FOR BOYS

Quentin, 12yrs old, small for his age, light brown hair, blue eyes, sat with the other boys at long tables. Empty plates, scraped clean of every morsel, in front of them. On the top table sat the head teacher, an old-fashioned looking gentleman whose style is more akin to Dickensian times than the modern era, together with his staff, all men, except one. Miss Maggie White, the one person that pays any attention to Quentin whatsoever.

The head teacher stands, hands holding the lapels of his jacket as he cleared his throat several times before speaking.

‘I know you are all excited about the four-day weekend ahead, but remember, boys, for most of you, your parents are coming tomorrow afternoon, so we need to put on a good show. Let them see how happy you all are. Whoa betides anyone who lets the side down. Miss White.’

Miss White stood and, without any preamble, said,

‘I have some exciting news for you. The clothing van has arrived. As you know, your parents are encouraged to recycle their old clothing and we here at Gladwell believe in sharing, though I must add, some of your parents have been most generous this term, with many new clothes in the mix.’

Miss White paused as the clamour of excited voices rises.

The head teacher stood.

‘QUIET!’

Instant silence.

‘Remember, only to select clothing for yourself and only what you will wear. No hoarding!’ Miss White said sternly. ‘Please clear your places, take your plate, beaker and cutlery to the back quickly and quietly so we can lay out the clothes.’

Quentin, along with the other boys, stood, gathered his plate, beaker, and cutlery and, following the orderly queue, placed them in the separate contains.

A little while later, Quentin stood with the other boys outside the dining room, his excitement mounting as the doors swung open.

The long tables in the dining hall had clothes laid out upon them. No heaps or piles, but enough for the boys to ooooo as they rushed in, Quentin in the mix.

Many hands grabbed at the clothes and Quentin was squeezed out, so he moved himself out of the melee, watching anxiously as the piles dwindled.

His heart raced as he spied a pair of long trousers and darted forwards, arm sneaking through the boys in front, but just as his hand touched the material, the trousers were whipped away by an older boy.

‘Can’t believe no one snagged these.’

The boys slowly exited the dining hall individually and in groups, holding their new clothes, leaving Quentin to pick through what remained as Maggie watched from the back of the room.

Quentin picked up a rose pink coloured cardigan, happily talking to himself as he searched the discarded clothing strewn over the tables.

‘Ok, ok, this with this.... yes!’

Quentin held up a faded black T-shirt against the rose pink cardigan.

‘Nice, now what else? Oo, oo, result.’

Quentin picked up a sky blue blouse, his eyes searching, looking for something.

‘Yes. There it is,’ he exclaimed delightedly.

He selects a navy jumper, looking at it critically, poking his finger through a hole in the armpit.

‘Only one hole, not bad. If I keep my arms down, you can’t even see it.’

‘You know that cardigan is for girls?’ said Miss White as she walked over.

Quentin shrugs.

‘No matter. It will look great with this, don’t you think?’

Quentin holds up the cardigan and black T-shirt combination.

‘I do. I can mend that hole as well if you like.’

‘Really? You can do that?’

‘Yes, Quentin. In the olden days, we used to mend holes in clothing all the time.’

‘Cool,’ said Quentin. His smile faded, and he turned away from Miss White. ‘Do you think my parents will come tomorrow?’

‘They said they would.’

‘I’ll try for team then. Dad would like that.’

‘I think that’s a lovely idea.’

Later that afternoon, Quentin was standing in a line with three other boys as two of the older boys, Graham and Stephen, called out names, picking their teams.

‘Kevin,’ Graham called out.

Kevin left Quentin’s side and ran over to join the boys standing behind Graham.

‘John,’ Stephen called out.

John ran over to stand behind Stephen.

Graham groaned.

‘So that leaves Joe with me.’

Joe grinned as he raced to join the others as they ran onto the make shift pitch, jumpers thrown onto the ground as goalposts.

Quentin stood on the sideline, alone, waiting for a few moments, hoping the boys were just having some fun and would call his name any moment, waving him onto the pitch to join them.

No one called his name. No one waved him over.

Quentin turned and walked back to the house, wondering, not for the first time, why no one liked him.

The following afternoon, the long tables in the dining room had been pushed back along the walls, and an average buffet had been laid out.

The boys waited expectantly. The doors opened and parents, guardians & sponsors entered the room, each carrying Easter Eggs. Cries and squeals filled the air as boys rushed into loving arms, hugs and kisses from loving mothers. Younger boys were hoisted into the air by loving fathers whilst older boys shook hands and exchanged hearty hugs. Quentin watched, his eyes constantly searching for the new arrivals as they entered. Those coming in trickled to an end, replaced by those leaving, heading outside to find a place on the front lawns, laden with food, chatting and laughing as they went.

The dining hall was empty except for Quentin.

The doorway darkened momentarily and Quentin looked up, hope and excitement leaving quickly as Miss White entered and walked towards him.

‘They’re not coming, are they?’

‘I’m sorry, Quentin. I just got word. They’re heading to Belarus and cannot make it.’

Miss White looked around at what food remained.

‘We could get something to eat and go outside if you like.’

‘No, that’s ok. I’ll go to my room if that’s ok?’

‘That’s fine, Quentin. Your parents are busy doing important work; otherwise, I am sure they would have been here.’

‘Making the world a safer place,’ said Quentin as he walked from the hall, his eyes glistening. ‘I know.’

Quentin stopped by the main doors to look out, watching as the boys sat with their parents, laughing and joking in the bright sunshine before turning and climbing the stairs.

The parents gone, the boys are within the large common room, crowded around Graham, eating chocolate as he played a computer game. Stephen stands directly behind him, arms folded.

Quentin stands on a chair at the very back so he can see.

‘Game Over! Yes! my turn. I’ll figure this out,’ said Stephen.

Graham threw down the controller.

‘The game’s impossible. We’ve not even done the first mission yet.’

Stephen took Graham’s place and stared intently at the screen as he worked the controls.

A few moments later.

‘Ha! GAME OVER! You didn’t even get past the first guard. My turn,’ said another older boy, Mark.

Stephen handed Mark the controller and moved aside.

In the dead of night, everyone was asleep, everyone except for Quentin, for he was in the common room playing the computer game.

‘Yes! Level one complete. Ok, now to get inside Colditz.’

Quentin stretched his arms and stood. Emblazoned across the computer screen:

CONGRATULATIONS: MISSION COMPLETE!

A red light flashed in the corner.

Quentin grinned.

‘That was fun.’

Yawning, Quentin left the common room and made his way up the stairs.

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT

Quentin heard a sound and froze.

Familiar with the old boarding school creaking and groaning during the night, he knew the sound didn’t belong.

Creeping silently up the stairs, keeping to the sides so they didn’t creak or crack, heart pounding in his chest, breath shorter, faster, skin tingling with excitement, he moved across the landing; stopping now and then to listen, straining to hear any noise out of place.

There!

A footstep, not the light step of a barefoot, but a heavy one; a boot.

Working his way along the corridor, he checked to see if any doors were open, placing his ear to the wood to hear anything from within before going to the next.

One door was open.

His.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Something loomed out of the darkness. Blacker than the black of night, it emerged from his room and headed towards him. Flattening himself against the wall, Quentin closed his eyes and stilled his breathing, the air wafting across his face as the man moved past him.

Eyes open again; he watched the blackness walk away down the corridor.

Breathing out slowly, he moved towards the door when the darkness shifted again and another person came out of the room.

He blushed without knowing why as he noticed she was a girl; her profile visible for just an instant as she turned and walked away from him. It’s just a girl, he told himself crossly; annoyed and puzzled why he was hot all of a sudden.

Tip toeing inch by inch towards the door, his heart missed a beat as someone slipped past him, quick, lithe, and equally silent. Quentin darted inside the door and stood against the wall.

He strained to see, as the blackness seemed to swirl and move, two bodies becoming one as they struggled.

With a start, he realised Miss White had a third intruder locked in her grip, her arm tight around his throat.

‘You chose the wrong place to burgle, my friend, and coming alone was just plain daft.’

The menace in her voice made the hairs on his arm stand on end.

What about the other two in the corridor? Why hadn’t Miss White seen them?

‘Maggie, it’s me, Unwin.’ Quentin heard the man croak.

Quentin watched as Miss White let go her hold and place her hands on her hips.

‘What are you doing here?’

How she conveyed annoyance, surprise, and interest all within a whisper amazed Quentin.

‘I’ve come for the boy. Where is he?’

‘The boy? Why now? What’s happened?’ asked Miss White.

‘The James’s, they’ve resurfaced in Russia.’

‘Russia, what are they doing there?’

‘Good question. We moved up the schedule. The others are on the way.’

Quentin’s mind went into overdrive. It was his room, so they must have come for him. Why? What had he done? What others? What school?

All this took about a second before his mind snapped back to the people in the room.

‘He’s not ready.’

Unwin looked confused.

‘He passed all four tests.’

‘That’s a computer game. I’m talking about real life. He’s kinda...... special.’

‘Those tests are designed by MI5 to identify potential young talent. Quentin’s scores were off the charts.’

‘He’s still not ready. He’s a bit simple, too innocent about everyday things to survive Edgewater.’

‘That’s as maybe, but he has to go, and it has to be tonight. Besides, the new term starts tomorrow. Why wait another year?’

‘There’s something else?’ said Miss White.

Unwin nodded.

‘The boy’s whereabouts have become known. We believe the James’s will try to snatch him. We cannot let that happen. Edgewater is the safest place for him right now. Not even the James’s know its exact location.’

‘Why now? They’ve not really bothered with him in all this time, poor boy.’

‘I don’t know..... Yet, but I’m not taking any chances. We move him tonight.’

Unwin looked at the empty bed.

‘Where is he?’

‘Probably walking around school. He does that most nights. Says he’s patrolling, making sure everyone is safe.’

‘You’ve seen him?’ asked Unwin. ‘Walking around, I mean.’

Maggie looked sharply at Unwin.

‘Why do you ask that?’

‘He’s special.’

‘Well, I know that. I just said it.’

‘No, I mean really special. So special the Russians cannot have him, no one can. He belongs with us. It’s a matter of national security.’

Special, why am I special? thought Quentin.

‘That explains so much,’ said Maggie, tapping her lips as she cast her mind back. ‘But how did you know?’

Know what? Explains what? Jeeezze.... someone say something I understand.

‘Been watching,’ said Unwin. ‘Had this place wired for sound... and picture.’

Maggie chuckled.

‘Still Cliff mad I see.’

Cliff, who’s Cliff? Probably the electrician who wired the place for sight and sound. What does that mean, wired for sight and sound? Camera’s? There are cameras in my room?! Boundaries, people, boundaries.

‘Not mad. I just like his stuff. Times a ticking, Maggie.’

‘Ok, I’ll find the boy and meet you downstairs. It was probably a good idea to leave your team outside. Bit hard to explain their presence, if discovered, walking the halls.’

‘The kids will be confused with a Miss White and a Madame White at the school.’

‘Tough, I’ve been Agent White as long as she has, so they’ll just have to get used to it.’

Agent White, thought Quentin, looking at Miss White in amazement.

Quentin saw Unwin nod and go to walk past Miss White to the door, and his heart pounded in his chest.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Out the way you came in,’ Miss White whispered firmly.

‘There are rose bushes out there, with thorns, big thorns.’

‘Oh, you poor baby. Tough! Now get going.’

Miss White walked towards him. ‘Now where is he?’

‘I’m here,’ Quentin said, stepping forward.

Miss White gave a squeak and Quentin, pleased the darkness hid his grin, noticed Unwin shift his weight, his stance now one of readiness and pent up energy waiting to explode if needed.

‘Why am I special?’

Unwin looked at Quentin.

‘In time, laddie, in time,’ he said, slipping out of the window.

Quentin saw two shapes moving in the doorway, but gave no outward sign of his awareness of their presence; his curiosity peeked about those two.

A few seconds later, he heard the faint snick