‘It’s my decision, sir,’ said Macdonald.

‘They’ll put you on Crimewatch,’ said the magistrate, and chuckled at his joke. ‘And you’re refusing legal representation?’

‘I am, sir.’

‘Equally pointless,’ said the magistrate. ‘Your case will be heard at the Crown Court, possibly the Old Bailey, and you will not be allowed to represent yourself there. Unless you have formal legal training.’ He smiled patronisingly at Macdonald. ‘Do you have any formal legal training?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Then I suggest you hire yourself a solicitor immediately and, in view of the charges, get yourself a decent barrister. From the look of the evidence against you, you’re going to need all the help you can get.’ The magistrate glanced at the two CPS lawyers who were sitting at a desk on the opposite side of the court. One was in his late forties, with a tan so perfect it could only have come from a sunbed or a bottle; the other was two decades younger, with an eager-to-please demeanour that suggested he hadn’t long been in the job. Behind the lawyers were the two detectives who had taken over Macdonald’s questioning. The younger CPS lawyer had done most of the talking while the older one had occasionally turned in his chair to whisper to the detectives. ‘Do we have any idea when the further charges you mentioned might be laid?’ the magistrate asked the lawyers.

The younger lawyer got to his feet. ‘Investigations are continuing, sir,’ he said. ‘Statements are being taken from employees of the pest-control company who were held prisoner and we would expect charges of kidnapping and assault to be filed shortly. We are awaiting the results of forensic tests before charging the defendant with grievous bodily harm and attempted murder.’

The magistrate looked back to Macdonald. ‘In view of the seriousness of the charges, compounded by your refusal to co-operate with the police, I have no alternative but to remand you in custody. And because of the nature of the crime and the fact that firearms were involved, you are to be held in a Category A facility.’

Macdonald stared stonily at the magistrate. It was what he had expected.

‘It seems to me that, these days, the criminal fraternity is all too keen to carry firearms in the pursuit of their activities, and I hope that the full weight of the law is brought against you when the case comes to court,’ the magistrate continued. Macdonald could see that the man was enjoying his moment of glory. He would spend most of his time dealing with motoring offences and shoplifters: the appearance of an armed robber and potential police-killer in his court would give him lots to talk about at his next dinner party. But the speech meant nothing: Macdonald hadn’t even applied for bail.

He was handcuffed again, taken to the van, put back into the stall and the door locked. A few minutes later, the vehicle drove out of the court car park, escorted by the two motorcyclists and the car of armed police.