Hurricane Gold is the fourth book in the bestselling Young Bond series.
James Bond is staring death in the face… As the sun blazes over the Caribbean island of Lágrimas Negras, its bloodthirsty ruler is watching and waiting. Criminals come here to hide, with blood on their hands and escape on their minds.
On the mainland ex-flying ace Jack Stone leaves his son and daughter in the company of James Bond. But a gang of thieves lies in ambush – they want Stone’s precious safe, and will kill for its contents.
Young James Bond embarks on a deadly chase through the Mexican jungle. On this terrifying trail of greed and betrayal, only danger is guaranteed… Survival is not.
More action, more demented crime and more flesh-crawling deaths than ever before. – Observer
Meet the characters
James is supposed to be relaxing in Mexico after his adventures in Double or Die, but his life is never uneventful and before he knows it, a hurricane has pitched him into the heart of another terrifying situation.
‘He changed into a loose short-sleeved shirt and a pair of baggy trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror. His skin had darkened in the weeks he had been out here. He could easily pass as Mexican’.
El Huracan rules the island of Lagrimas Negras. On the surface, the island is a villains’ paradise, but El Huracan is not a benevolent ruler and crossing him has fatal consequences…
‘He was dressed in the style of a Mexican aristocrat, with an embroidered velvet suit and a frilly cream cravat at his throat held in place with a pearl stud.
He had a flat nose in the middle of a dark brown face that had the appearance of being carved out of old, hard wood. His thick mop of hair was pure white, as was his neat little Vandyke beard. He might have been forty, or he might have been eighty, it was impossible to tell. His eyes looked like they had lived a thousand years and seen all there was to see. At last he spoke, in English with a strong Mexican accent.’
Jack Stone is the embodiment of an American hero, or so it seems…
‘James looked up to see Mr Stone coming down the stairs. He was wearing a leather flying jacket and high boots. With his thin moustache and swept-back hair he looked every inch the air ace from the Great War.’
Tough, enigmatic and absolutely ruthless, Mrs Glass takes no prisoners. She runs her unruly gang of misfits with an iron hand and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.
‘She stood over them for a moment then dropped her cigarette to the ground and trod on it. It was past eleven and she was still wearing her hat. She only took it off to sleep , and even then she kept a scarf wrapped around her head. The wide brim meant that her eyes were often shaded and hidden. But now the light was from below, from the flames, and James could clearly see her face.
Her perfect, creamy white skin, her pale blue eyes and the glossy blonde curls that split out from under her hat, gave her the looks of a movie star. But there was an iciness in those eyes that made her both beautiful and frightening…’
When James meets Precious Stone she is everything he hates: spoilt, rude and selfish. They are soon thrown together and as Precious struggles to survive, she discovers strengths she never knew she had.
‘Presently James spotted the owner of the voice. Sitting at a large make-up mirror, painting her nails. She was wearing a long, elegant dress made of shiny gold material, and her dark hair was set into a short, fashionable style with tight waves that someone must have spent ages setting in place. ‘You must be James’ she said without looking round. ‘That’s right,’ said James. ‘I am Precious’ said the girl, who had the manner and accent of a haughty Southern belle.’
JJ is the younger brother of Precious Stone. He’s had a very easy life, which is suddenly ripped apart by the natural force of the hurricane and the brutality of Mrs Glass’s gang.
‘A boy of about seven, wearing a smart suit, appeared from behind the doll’s house, carrying a doll. … He was slightly pudgy and had a permanent smirk on his round face. He worshipped his sister and laughed at her every petulant outburst.’