"Unless you ain't who you are, he was you."
"He wasn't me. My papers were stolen less than an hour ago. He must have—"
The guard was no imbecile. He turned in a flash and hit a button on the desk beside him. An alarm bell rang in some inner room and four more guards came tumbling out of a doorway, alert and ready for trouble.
"Tommy," snapped the guard at the door, "Go check Paul Grayson's ship, that's number—"
"BurAst 33-P.G.1."
The guard looked at Paul carefully. "You're a dead ringer for the other guy that came through here," he said. "But you happen to know Paul Grayson's BurAst number. Anybody could memorize it."
Paul watched the other guards tumble out of the building and head off across the spaceport on a dead run, drawing pistols as they went. He started to follow them.
The guard barred his way.
"No you don't!"
"But that guy is stealing—"