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clothes. When he started to put his pants on, his wallet dropped from
the hip pocket and flopped open on the floor. He picked it up, his eyes
absently noticing the card that was exposed in the clear, plastic
window. It was a Selective Service Registration Certificate and someone
had written "small scar on right forearm" under the column for general
markings. Absently he glanced at his right forearm, then his eyes
widened in shock.
There was no scar!
A man cannot lose a scar, he told himself. He checked the card again. It
was his, made out to Nicholas Howard Danson; but the scar was missing.
He searched his arm and it wasn't there. The full realization of the
whole thing struck him suddenly like a punch in the mouth. He was _not_
Nicholas Howard Danson!
Who was he? What the hell was going on? Had he killed the real Danson
because they were obviously look alikes, and stolen the guy's I.D. Why?
Was he escaping from some kind of crime? Was he a criminal, and what did
the strange dreams have to do with it?
Numbly he climbed into the rest of his clothes and made damned sure the
.44 magnum was loaded when he strapped it on. His hands shook
uncontrollably and he felt trapped. It would only be a matter of time
before those people at the wreck figured out the whole story and came
howling after him. He had to get out.
The screech of car brakes startled him and he leaped to the window. A
police car was in the lane and a single, plainclothes cop was getting
out. It could only be Nolan. He watched as Brice pulled his Police
Positive from the speed rig and headed toward the house. Then Nick
hauled out his magnum and slammed it into the window.
Brice dived behind a bush as the magnum threw a .44 slug that barely
missed the cop. The .38 barked back and Nick ducked the splinters as the
bullet chipped the window frame.
"Come out, you fool," Brice roared.
"You go to hell," Nick yelled and fired again. "Who tipped you off,
"You left Danson's watch where your flying saucer cracked up!" Brice
snapped another shot at the window.
Flying saucer? Nick blinked. What the hell was that stupid cop talking
"What'd you do with Nick," Brice roared.
Nick let the magnum answer for him, not trusting his voice. In the few
seconds that followed Nick, in his nervous excitement, emptied the
revolver at Brice, but never even grazed him. He cursed and began
thumbing cartridges into the Ruger. He was almost finished, when Nolan
caught onto the maneuver and decided to come in closer. He stood up and
began sprinting toward the house. Nick had just yanked the hammer of the
gun back to fire as Brice came into the open but he never made it.
Suddenly, in the middle of the yard, Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice
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