THE SILVER FISH, Connor Martin's espionage thriller set in Ghana, explores the fiber optic frontier under the seas

Connor Martin’s debut novel, THE SILVER FISH, is an espionage fiction, where the personal and the political are intertwined in ways unanticipated. Unlike Le Carre’s Smiley’s People (1979), where the British, U.S., and Russian networks and operatives seem clearly delineated, THE SILVER FISH layers the complexity of players and objectives into the implacable business of international corporations and governments. Human beings, local “foot soldiers” with ambiguous ambitions, are expendable and always in flux, amid competing and mutable goals 

A prelude to this new world disorder might be the apocryphal story about Putin rumbling around the Kremlin “basement” during his Covid lock-down. Pondering the scattered legacy of Catharine the Great’s Empire, he vowed to regain the lost territories of that empire. If true, did Putin’s machinations intersect with Trump’s debt to him?  (After multiple bankruptcies in the 1980s, Trump did visit Russia in search of funding and found it.)

In the Ghana of THE SILVER FISH, “superpower” motivations, may be whispered in quiet store backrooms, private hotel rooms or discreet bars–havens for foreigners exhausted by heat and crowds, perhaps seeking friends or information. Dani, Danielle Moreau, an American journalist, the heroine of THE SILVER FISH, heads for one. Free-lance for the Guardian, she’s on the trail of corruption in the oil industry. In the bar, she’s not as obvious, as in the streets of dark African faces dotted by Whites and Asians. Amid Africans hawking baggies of drinking water, agile mini taxis, food. Dani knows she’s a source of cash and spreads it around, tipping well.  

In her studies, she would have read, The Ugly American (1958) a Cold War political novel about diplomatic incompetence in SE Asia. The hero of the book is a practical engineer, who lives among the locals, speaks their language, and solves problems. He contrasts with the arrogant diplomats in luxurious compounds with servants and questionable intelligence. Diplomatic ignorance and arrogance is said to have led to the fall of Hanoi. 

Dani, who comes from a wealthy family is painfully aware of the privilege that’s allowed her to “follow the story,” as a journalist. And may have read the “The Ugly American.” She is both a believer in “truth” and an intrepid reporter drawn to the chase of a good story.  After a personal tragedy, she’s glad to again be a reporter in unknown territory. She eschews staying at the Hilton, where she has friends, for a cheap room above a bar, take-out food, and booze. 

Her assignment begins with the name Aidoo, a local politician and his American-educated son, James. Dani finds James’ idealism about the future of Ghana’s moving. But the story leads her to a violent American operative and a Ghanian double-agent; in a realm where cut-outs and roles intersect in deadly segues. Everyone has a hidden resume; colleagues from the Hilton, her neighbor, a seamstress, the bar-man downstairs. When she thinks she knows the story, it becomes something else. 

The corruption of the oil industry is merely an underlying part of a dire rivalry between the United States and China. At stake is the world’s data, fiber optic cables that crisscross continents, hug sea floors, carrying information at the speed of light. One of the world’s least know and dangerous technologies is contested in a deadly, ruthless war for control. 

In THE SILVER FISH, Dani changes profoundly, more akin to a Graham Greene character’s awareness of profound isolation and the reality of evil.  At the end of this novel, many questions hang in the balance. Who does Dani become? Is the United States the land of her survival? What became of the author’s cliches about her as a superficial product of a privileged class?  I will certainly look for a sequel, since Martin shows her rare strengths and insights.

My only problem is not with the author’s initial assessments of his heroine but his judgement. Male characters in classic espionage are often judged ruefully for their human “failings”, such as drinking, womanizing, gambling, greed (and even generosity) that compromise them.  I would like to read a future book, where a woman is given the same rueful, “pass” for her shortcomings. (Women choosing to live independently, as free thinkers, have often been called “selfish,” while for men it’s considered a virtue.) 

CONNOR MARTIN

This is a fine debut novel of a new espionage writer. Connor Martin is a writer and former senior US National security official, most recently serving as Deputy Director on the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS) at the Treasury Department. He is a term member of the Council on Foreign Relations, and he splits his time between Washington and Brooklyn. The Silver Fish is his first novel.