"It's a kind of permanent temporary pass," he explained to the suspicious, gun-toting official who looked like he was missing his sleep as much as Serrin was. It didn’t make him any too helpful. When tht anted to be, New York’s finest could wield the old quadruplicate red-tape routine as well as any Brit. The guy had already scanned the pass twice and come up with approvals on the security checks, yet he still glared at the pass as if it were a rabid dog. Entry into Manhattan required one of at least a dozen different kinds of passes and permits. Serrin’s was the kind the guard was least familiar with.