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.

There was no sink in the cell but he was given a washing-up bowl of warm water and a towel. His request for a razor was refused.

He slept uneasily on the thin plastic mattress and had to drape one of the foul-smelling blankets over his head to blot out the light.

He was woken by the uniformed male sergeant who informed him that his case had been reviewed by a superintendent and the twenty-four-hour grace period had been extended by eight hours; before the eight hours were up he would be charged and taken to Crawley magistrates’ court.

Macdonald asked for some clothing and if he could shave before his court appearance. ‘If you give us the name of a relative, we can get them to bring some things in for you,’ the sergeant said. Macdonald knew there was no point in arguing with him. Besides, even if he appeared in court wearing an Armani suit and an MCC tie he wouldn’t be granted bail. A short while later he was given another bacon sandwich, this time with a congealed fried egg inside it, and a cup of instant coffee. He ate the sandwich hungrily and sipped the coffee slowly.

He sat on the bed until they came for him. He was handcuffed to two police officers and taken into a small room where the uniformed sergeant formally charged him on one count of armed robbery. It was a holding charge, Macdonald figured, until they had finished their investigation. Kelly had seemed serious when he’d said that the gang members were all going to be charged with attempted murder and kidnapping.

As he was led through the reception area he caught a glimpse of Jeff Owen through a half-open door. He was sitting at a table, talking quickly. Macdonald couldn’t see who was interviewing him but he had the feeling it was Kelly and O’Connor. Owen looked up and saw Macdonald. He said something to the interviewing officers and the door was closed.