The huge potential scandal in England was being carefully watched and monitored by the Security Service. If four English agents turned out to be murderers involved in a bizarre “game,” the fallout would be widespread and devastating for the intelligence community.

Shafer dutifully went to the embassy on Wednesday and Thursday. He arrived just before nine and left promptly at five. Once inside, he stayed out of sight in his small office, not even venturing out for lunch. He spent hours on America Online, which we monitored.

Both days, he wore the same gray slacks and a double-breasted blue blazer. His clothes were uncharacteristically wrinkled and unkempt. His thick blond hair was combed back; it looked dirty and greasy, and resisted the high winds flowing through Washington. He looked pale, seemed nervous and fidgety.

Was he going to crash?

After dinner on Friday night, Nana and I sat out in back of the house on Fifth Street. We were spending more time together than we had in years. I knew she was concerned about me, and I let her help as much as she wanted. For both our sakes.

Jannie and Damon were washing the dishes inside and managing not to squabble too much. Damon washed while Jannie dried. Damon’s tape deck played the beautiful score from the movie Beloved.

“Most families have a dishwasher and drier these days,” Nana said, after she’d taken a sip of her tea. “Slavery has ended in America, Alex. Did you happen to hear about that?”

“We have a dishwasher and drier, too. Sounds like they’re in good working order. Low maintenance, low cost. Hard to beat.”

Nana clucked. “See how long it lasts.”

“If you want a dishwasher, we can buy one — or are you just practicing the fine art of being argumentative before you launch into something more deserving of your talents? As I remember, you are a fan of Demosthenes and Cicero.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “Wiseapple,” she said. “Think you’re so smart.”

I shook my head. “Not really, Nana. That’s never been one of my big problems.”

“No, I suppose not. You’re right, you don’t have a big head about yourself.” Nana stared into my eyes. I could almost feel her peering into my soul. She has an ability to look very deeply into things that really matter. “You ever going to stop blaming yourself?” she asked me. “You look just terrible.”

“Thank you. Are you ever going to stop nagging me?” I asked, smiling at her. Nana could always bring me out of the doldrums, in her own special way.

She nodded her small head. “Of course I will. I’ll stop one day. Nobody lives forever, Grannyson.”

I laughed. “You probably will, though. Live longer than me or the kids.”