The next time the cell door opened a uniformed female sergeant came in, a thick-set woman with tightly permed hair. She was holding a pair of old training shoes. 'These are elevens but they're all we could find,' she said.
Macdonald thanked her and tried them on. There were no laces so he had to shuffle as he walked, but they were better than nothing. He sat down on the bed but the woman jerked her thumb towards corridor. 'You're to be interviewed,' she said.
She escorted him across the reception area. Several uniformed officers stared at him with hard faces. Word must have got round that a cop had been shot. Macdonald looked straight ahead. The sergeant opened a door and gestured for him to go in.
Kelly and O'Connor were already seated at a table with notebooks in front of them. A tape-recording deck with spaces for two tapes stood on a shelf and in the corner of the room above Kelly's shoulder there was a small CCTV camera.
'Sit down,' said O'Connor, pointing at a chair facing the camera.
Macdonald did as he was told. By now the detectives had probably discovered that neither his prints nor his photograph were on file. The DNA profile would take longer.
O'Connor switched on the recording machine and identified himself. He gave the date, looked at his wristwatch and said the time, then looked at his boss. Kelly seemed tired: there were dark patches under his eyes, and the shoulders of his suit were flecked with dandruff. Kelly spoke his name, then sat back to let O'Connor do the talking.
'So, you've had a chance to sleep on it,' said O'Connor. 'Are you ready to be a bit more co-operative today?'
'No comment,' said Macdonald.
'You were arrested leaving a warehouse at Gatwick airport late last night,' said O'Connor. 'Would you care to tell us what you were doing there?'
Macdonald knew he hadn't been arrested, he'd been knocked unconscious, but maybe O'Connor was hoping for an argument over the facts that would lead Macdonald to incriminate himself. If that was his intention maybe he wasn't destined for greater things.
'No comment,' he said.
'At this point I'm asking you if you want to be legally represented,' said O'Connor. 'Either by a solicitor of your choosing or by the duty solicitor.'
'I decline legal representation,' said Macdonald, folding his arms across his chest.
'Because?'
'No comment.'
'We understand that the raid was planned by Edward Verity.'
'No comment.'
'And that you were just a hired hand on the job.'
'No comment.'
'We understand that you hit Mr Verity before he could take actions that would have led to the hostages being hurt.'
'No comment.'
'If you explained why you did that, it might make things easier for you.'
'No comment.'
'We discovered a shotgun in the warehouse, close to the emergency exit you ran out of. Can you confirm that it was yours?'
'No comment.'
O'Connor reached under the table and brought out an evidence bag containing a pair of leather gloves.
'We removed this pair of gloves from you in hospital in the early hours of this morning.' O'Connor read out the serial number on the bag for the benefit of the tape. 'Can you confirm that you were wearing these gloves?'
'No comment.'
O'Connor bent down and picked up a second evidence bag, this one containing a black ski mask. 'You were wearing this mask when you broke out of the warehouse,' he said.
'No comment.'
'And you were wearing the overalls belonging to the employee of the pest-control company you were impersonating. All of which leaves us in no doubt that you were a member of the gang who broke into the warehouse, assaulted the employees and later shot a policeman.'
'No comment.'
'Refusing to answer our questions isn't going to get you anywhere,' said O'Connor.
Macdonald shrugged.
'The lad's right,' said Kelly. 'This isn't me playing good cop, bad cop either. You're not on file but all that means is that you haven't been caught before. You're a pro, that's as obvious as the wart on my arse. But just because it's a first offence doesn't mean you won't go down for a long time. If the Crown Prosecution Service goes for attempted murder plus kidnapping you could get life.'
Macdonald shrugged again.
'But if you throw in your lot with us, we could persuade the CPS to drop your case to attempted robbery. A few months behind bars. You might even get probation if you can come up with a few character witnesses and an invalid mother.'
'No comment,' said Macdonald.
Kelly leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, palms down, fingers splayed. 'This is a once-only offer,' he said.
'I can't help you,' said Macdonald.
'If you can't, there's others that will,' said Kelly. 'You know Conrad Wilkinson? Of course you do. He was wearing the same outfit as you.'
Macdonald said nothing.
'Young Conrad's scared shitless about going back to Brixton. Seems he left a debt behind when he got early release. Plus his record is minor - car theft and demanding money with menaces. It's all we can do to shut him up. Trouble is, he doesn't know anything.'
Macdonald remained silent.
'Now Jeff Owen, he does know what time it is. All sorts of bells went off when we ran his prints through NAFIS. Owen wants to do a deal, but as he was the one splashing petrol about, the CPS isn't happy about cutting him any slack. So I'm going to ask you one last time. Do you want to help us with our enquiries, or shall we get ready to throw away the key?'
Macdonald stared sullenly at the detective. Kelly stood up. 'This interview is over,' he said.
O'Connor read the time off his wristwatch, then switched off the recorder. He took out the two cassettes, signed his name on them, and fixed seals over them. 'One of these is for you if you want it,' he said to Macdonald.
'No need,' said Macdonald.
Kelly threw open the door to the interview room and walked out. 'He's all yours,' he said, to the female sergeant. O'Connor hurried after the detective inspector.
The female sergeant took Macdonald back to his cell. On the way he asked if he could have some shoelaces because it was difficult to walk in the oversized trainers. She told him that he was a suicide risk so shoelaces and anything else he might use to kill himself were prohibited. Macdonald smiled to himself as she closed the cell door on him. Killing himself was the last thing he wanted to do.
Macdonald was interviewed three times over the rest of the day, but he didn't see Kelly or his sidekick again. The questioning was handled by a detective chief inspector and a detective sergeant, two men with more than fifty years of police experience between them. They tried every trick they knew but Macdonald said only, 'No comment.'
He was fed once, in the early evening. A watery spaghetti Bolognese on a paper plate and a sickly treacle pudding with fluorescent yellow custard. Neither was especially appetising but Macdonald cleaned both plates with the same plastic fork, and washed down the food with another cup of sweet tea.
