"Do me a favor and don't." She pecked him lightly on the lips. "I like the new Nick Danson a hell of a lot better. C'mon. Snap my bra." They climbed out of bed and he helped her into her shorts and halter. She kissed him lightly again, said; "Good-by, lover," and bounced out into the hall, leaving him standing there, naked in the bedroom. What a world, he thought for the hundredth time and began to gather his 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, Nolan? Beth?" "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 about? "What'd you do with Nick," Brice roared.