If you could go back and change the past, would the future turn out the way you want it to? Imraan Coovadia’s dazzlingly original, A Spy in Time, is an extraordinary tale for extraordinary times.
“I NEVER SET OUT TO be anybody’s prophet. I didn’t see myself as a spy. I was twenty-five years old and I was ready for adventure.
Before the check-up, I went to see my father to say my goodbyes. He was in a home on the other side of Nujoma Location. I found him absorbed in a game of chess, the board set next to him on the long divan in the common room. The room was full of sunshine.
The game was automatic. When he completed his move, the crown on the black queen spun round at high speed while the board considered its position. I suspect it was more for show than because it needed the time. In a few seconds, in any case, it made up its mind. The black bishop slid into the corner, pressed by two knights. I could see checkmate against the machine.
My father stopped the clock. He looked sideways at me, his hands running up and down his legs, shrunk to the bone by age.
He spoke as sharply as ever. ‘You want a game, my friend? I’m running a tournament here. Seven players, six of which are the different personalities of this board.’
‘I don’t play so much.’
‘You looked as if you appreciated the brilliance of my last two moves. Ah, I thought I was dealing with a flesh-and-blood expert for once, a real flesh-and-blood expert.’ His face fell. ‘Playing against a machine is never the same unless you have given them the freedom to consider all the assumptions.’
I said, ‘I used to play as a child. I don’t play now.’
‘Then that explains it. I am very sorry to have troubled you.’
He went back to his game, putting his head down. For a quarter of an hour I watched the pawns tread down the rows. It was futile. My father never returned to a subject once it was settled in his mind. I could have stayed on the armchair for the rest of the day and he would have continued to play his position without resuming our conversation, his forehead straining as he waited for the board to counter his moves. I don’t know what I expected. He wouldn’t have given me his blessing if I could have explained where I was going. He was an engineer and believed in the future over the past. The stars over our heads above the secrets of old time.
“If I felt any nervousness about being around fair-skinned men and women, in a world that they controlled, I was wise enough to keep it to myself.”
On my way out, he turned to the door. I imagined he wanted to say something about what lay ahead. Instead, he pointed to the housekeeping cart and smiled, as if to indicate something about its construction. I smiled back, although I could feel the pressure at my temple.
From the motorway, the tenements and squares of the new city were evident for a dozen miles in both directions. Nitrogen factories alternated with school buildings. Automatic warehouses rose above the tin roofs of barracks and refugee canteens. I shuddered to think of them – pale-faced women and children in their thousands – and tried to concentrate on the case files.
I had watched the recording of the mission twice already. It was my first assignment as a case officer and I was keen to excel. We were scheduled to arrive at five twenty in the morning in Marrakech, 16 June in the year of our Lord 1955. In Morocco, our task was to eavesdrop on a small industrial concern. Its proprietor went by the name of Keswyn Muller. We would produce a brief report on Muller to assist the consultants in making their determinations. I wasn’t used to watching myself on tape, and was impressed by the aplomb with which I handled conditions in the field. Nothing untoward had been registered on the recording. I looked calm, cool, and untouched by the stress.
For her help in preparing me to go out, I could thank Shanumi Six, the senior member on the expedition. She would give me the space to prove myself. Plus, she wasn’t the kind of agent who punished herself when out in the field. She had selected two rooms in a luxury hotel in Marrakech, the kind of decadence the old civilisations had perfected. If I felt any nervousness about being around fair-skinned men and women, in a world that they controlled, I was wise enough to keep it to myself. Shanumi didn’t need to hear about my misgivings.”
Extracted from A Spy in Time, out now.
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