Free Shift: A Novel by Tim Kring and Dale Peck

so long since Chandler thought of himself as one of “the mighty” that Logan’s words didn’t really hit home. But the tone—especially coming from someone he still thought of as a pipsqueak—the tone stung.
    “You must feel clever,” Chandler said. “Vindicated. What’s it been? Eleven years, three months, nineteen days?” There was an awkward pause after this figure rolled off Chandler’s tongue. Something prompted him to give the rest of it. “And three hours. And thirteen minutes.”
    Logan’s eyebrows twitched. “Jesus Christ, Chandler, we were kids. You don’t think I’ve held a grudge for—how long? Eleven years, three months, eighteen—”
    “Nineteen.”
    A bemused smile crossed Logan’s face and he shook his head slowly. “If you want to know the truth, I was casing establishments for Naz when I saw you slumped over a martini at the King’s Head. I guess I couldn’t resist.”
    “‘Casing establishments’? You were pimping her is what you were doing!”
    “If the shoe fits—”
    Chandler was up before he knew it. Had grabbed Logan by the lapels and, despite the fact that the former pipsqueak was now several inches taller than him, slammed him against the wall.
    “How many other girls have you done this to? In how many other cities? Do you have girls skulking around bars in Greenwich Village and Georgetown, too? Maybe a little West Coast action?”
    “Most girls think it’s fun.” Logan’s voice was tight.
    “Fun?!”
Chandler’s knuckles were white on Logan’s lapels. “Your little bit of power’s gone to your head.”
    “Nobody made Naz do anything she wasn’t already doing. Least of all me. Or did she leave that part out?”
    “Let him go, Chandler.” Naz’s hand was on his shoulder, and it seemed to Chandler that she wanted him to let go of more than Logan. He held Eddie’s gaze for another moment, then released him. As soon as he stepped away, Naz put herself where he had been, and, though she didn’t touch Logan, her manner made Chandler’s seem benign by comparison.
    “What did you
do
to us, Agent Logan? We have a right to know.”
    The fury pouring off Naz was so palpable that Logan seemed to shrink against the wall. “Well now,” he said hoarsely. “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?”
    Chandler put his hand on Naz’s elbow and drew her away from the wall. Logan relaxed visibly.
    “Naz said there was some kind of drug in our drink.”
    Logan took a moment to smooth his lapels with hands that were still shaking slightly. “Lysergic acid diethylamide. LSD for short. Or acid, as some of its more visionary users are starting to refer to it. That was the base of the concoction anyway. But the boys in Technical Services are like chefs—always adding a dash of this and a pinch of that. Only they know what the final formula was. Naz was only supposed to give it to
you
, but I guess she was feeling adventurous.”
    “I don’t care what it’s called or what it’s made of. I want to know what it
does.”
    Logan shook his head. “The real question is, what happened with you and Naz? Because I’ve seen dozens of different reactions—”
    Chandler harrumphed here, and Logan colored visibly.
    “—but I’ve never seen two people just stare into each other’s eyes for nearly five hours as though they were reading each other’s minds.”
    Naz and Chandler would have made bad spies: at Logan’s lastphrase, they couldn’t help but look at each other, then look hurriedly away. For the first time since he’d arrived, Logan smiled.
    “O the subtlety!”
    Naz cleared her throat. “There was—”
    “Naz, don’t!” Chandler stopped her. “You don’t know these people. Once they get their claws into you, they never let go.”
    “Oh, I
know
, Chandler.” Naz’s bitterness was so strong that he had to step back from her. “But he’s all we’ve got.”
    They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Chandler nodded, and