“Spies.”

His mother pursed her lips after taking a sip of lemonade and nodded.

“Russian.”

“He’s catching on, Lynn,” Peter said.

King looked at his father. “And you’ve been locked up for ten years, in the minimum security prison in Butner.”

“Told you I’d been in Butner. Now you can see why I never came to visit you.”

King rubbed his face. This was all too much. “And you went to prison—”

“I told you already, before the Cold War ended, your mother and I had fallen in love with this country. We kept our new identities and broke all ties with the Soviets in 1988.”

“Did they ever come after you?” King asked.

“Just once,” Peter said.

“And?”

Lynn took another drink, her eyebrows reaching up to her dark hair. When it was clear Peter wasn’t going to answer, she gave a gentle cough, smiled, and said, “I shot him. You were just a baby then.” She smiled at King’s shocked expression. “Don’t worry, he lived.”

“After that,” Peter added, “the Cold War ended in 1991 and we were forgotten about.”

“This is why you were opposed to Julie joining the military?”

His father nodded. “I wanted you both to live different lives, and to never fear for yours. But it seems the military is part of our genetic makeup.” He sighed. “If your sister had listened—”

Lynn put her hand on Peter’s arm. “Not now.”

His nod was nearly imperceptible. “When Julie died I thought it might not have been an accident. I started poking around. But was rusty. Asked too many questions. Was spotted poking around the base. Federal agents looked into my past and learned the truth.”

“I gave them every name and contact I had and was totally honest about what secrets we had sent home in exchange for your mother’s freedom and your continued belief that I had simply left. I got out of jail two weeks ago.”

“Why wait this long to tell me?”

His father began to reply, but King interrupted.

“And why fake Mom’s death?”

“There are elements in the current Russian government that are attempting to return to old Cold War policies. Shortly after my release we were contacted by an old KGB handler who assumed the dead end in our file back home meant we were sleeper agents.”

Lynn looked out the window, her eyes watching the shuffle of spring leaves in the wind. “We’ve been reactivated.”

“So you faked your death to what, escape?”

She nodded.

King chuckled.

“You think this is funny?” his father asked.

“You should have come to me from the beginning.” He looked at both his parents, amused, surprised, and thrilled to have them both back. “I have friends that could help.”

“You’re a soldier, son. This is the spy business,” Peter said. “Who do you know that could help us, chess pieces?”

King squinted at his father. “How did you know my call sign?”

Lynn smiled. “You let your guard down at home … and I’m a good spy.”