"Keys" Hearn said.

"He's got keys to jacobus's car."

I.

"What the h.e.l.l . . . ?" asked Sha.s.sad rhetorically. He was totally perplexed now, the odd scene on Thirtieth Street making no sense yet.

"Get his license number."

The rear hood of jacobus's car went up. Then the man left jacobus's trunk wide open and stepped quickly back to his own car.

He opened his own trunk. Then, with obvious effort, he reached in and picked up a large canvas bag, the size of a post-office mailbag or a sack of flour. He pulled it out, hoisted it over his shoulder, stepped with a slight wobble to jacobus's trunk, leaned forward, and as best he could eased the bag into the Ford.

Then with one hand he reached in and picked up another sack.

This one was much lighter, though the same size. It was bulky, but obviously not nearly as heavy.

The man hoisted the second bag over his shoulder, stepped back to his own car, and dumped the bag almost carelessly into his trunk.

He then slammed down both trunks, and hurried back to the wheel of his own car.

"I don't get it said Sha.s.sad.

"Not at all."

The lights of the Nova went on. The engine started. Hearn was still staring through gla.s.ses.

"You're going to love this part" he said.

"What?"

"It's a DPL license, New York State Sha.s.sad almost gawked at his partner. Diplomatic plates. The car was registered to an emba.s.sy or consulate within New York City. Since when did diplomats play musical trunks with janitors? The unmarked police car moved slowly to the corner.

"I can't stand it'" cursed Sha.s.sad.

"See whether he goes straight or turns.

Hearn leaned forward, barely able to keep the binoculars focused on the Nova. The car was moving now, approaching the red traffic light at the end of the block at Lexington and Thirtieth.

Hearn watched the car ease to the corner, never halt completely, and turn.

"He ran the light" said Hearn.

Sha.s.sad could stand it no longer.

"A red one?"

Knowing what his partner was thinking, Hearn nodded the leprechaun grin he saved for moments of special joy "Let's go f.u.c.k him" said Sha.s.sad.

The red beacon was still flashing on the dashboard of the unmarked police car. The Nova had been pulled to the curb on Lexington Avenue.

Sha.s.sad and Hearn approached it from different sides.

The driver of the Nova, sitting 'with his arms folded, looked through the window at Sha.s.sad.

"Lower that window or I'll punch it in!" snapped Sha.s.sad.

"I want a license and registration out of you!" He banged the window twice with his fist.

Hearn watched the driver and inspected the Nova from the other side.

With deliberateness that was meant to antagonize, the man at the wheel slowly rolled down the window.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked calmly in foreign-accented English.

"You! License and registration."

Grudgingly the driver handed both doc.u.ments to Sha.s.sad.

"I'm a member of the diplomatic corps" he said.

Hearn eyed the trunk of the car. Then he walked around to join Sha.s.sad.

Sha.s.sad glanced at the man's license. Andre Corescaneu, an attachi of the Romanian delegation to the United Nations. -Sha.s.sad knew he couldn't touch him with a motor-vehicle violation. He also knew he couldn't tip his hand and let Corescaneu know that Jacobus, whom the Romanian obviously knew, was the subject of surveillance. There was no other choice. The detectives would have to slip into their act. It called for a temper tantrum.

"You see?" said Corescaneu.

"Diplomat. You cannot-" "Get out "What?"

"Get out!" roared Sha.s.sad.

"Get out of that car before I haul you out!"

Apprehension showed on the diplomat's face.

"You can't-" "The rules are off, fella" barked Sha.s.sad, glaring into the car.

"I'm doing whatever I want tonight."

Corescaneu was flabbergasted, not knowing how to react.

"Come on, come on," Hearn said.

"Calm down." He put his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"No, f.u.c.k it!" screamed Sha.s.sad.

"I've had it with these frigging foreigners. I'm writing him up!"