Hard Landing Read Online Free PDF Page A

you, young Brendan here is as English as they come. Product of the graduate-entry scheme he is, and sharp as a knife. Isn’t that right, Detective Constable?’
    O’Connor sighed, clearly used to Kelly’s teasing. ‘Yes, sir. Sharp as a knife.’ His accent was pure Oxbridge – obviously destined for greater things than riding shotgun to a detective approaching retirement.
    ‘How about getting us a couple of coffees?’ said Kelly. ‘Mine’s black with two sugars. What about you?’
    Macdonald turned to look at the detective constable. He was in his mid-twenties with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes that suggested there was more to his Irish heritage than his name. ‘White, no sugar.’
    ‘Sweet enough, as my grandmother always used to say,’ said Kelly. He sat down and crossed his ankles as the detective constable left them. ‘I hope I retire before he gets promoted above me.’ He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m missing my beauty sleep, I can tell you that much. Still, no point in brandishing shotguns in broad daylight, is there?’
    ‘No comment,’ said Macdonald.
    ‘And if I was in your situation that’s what I’d be saying. No comment until you’re lawyered up and then it’s “No comment on my solicitor’s advice.” But unless you take the initiative here, you’re going to go down with the rest of the scum.’
    ‘No comment,’ said Macdonald.
    ‘You see, the civilians are saying that you were the best of a bad bunch. You tried to stop the flaming-kebabs routine. You said it would be better to call it a night and go out with your hands up. And, bugger me, you only went and poleaxed Ted Verity, gangster of this parish. For which you have the thanks of Sussex Constabulary.’
    ‘How is he?’ asked Macdonald.
    ‘Like a prick with a sore head,’ said Kelly. He chuckled. ‘He’s in a better state than you, actually. You didn’t do much in the way of damage.’
    Macdonald stared up at the ceiling. ‘No comment.’
    ‘If I was you, and obviously I’m not because you’re the one with the handcuffs on, I’d be wanting to put as much distance between me and the rest of them as I could. A cop was shot. Prison isn’t particularly welcoming to people who take pot-shots at law-enforcement officials.’
    ‘I didn’t shoot anyone,’ said Macdonald.
    ‘Which is another point in your favour,’ said Kelly. ‘But it’s going to take more than that to keep you out of a Cat A establishment for the next twenty years.’
    O’Connor returned with three plastic beakers on a cardboard tray. He handed the tray to Kelly, then unlocked the handcuff on Macdonald’s left wrist. Macdonald smiled at him gratefully, shook his hand to get the circulation going, then took his beaker of coffee and sipped it.
    ‘So what’s it to be?’ asked Kelly. ‘Can we bank on your co-operation? Or shall I book you a cell with Verity?’
    ‘No comment,’ said Macdonald.
    Kelly sighed and got to his feet. ‘That’s that, then,’ he said.
    The curtain was pulled back and a young woman in a dark blue jacket looked expectantly at him. ‘Jennifer Peddler,’ she said. ‘I’m here for the forensics.’ She jerked her head at Macdonald. ‘This the shooter?’
    ‘I didn’t shoot anyone,’ said Macdonald.
    ‘Strictly speaking, that’s true,’ said Kelly. ‘He’s a blagger rather than a shooter.’
    Peddler put a large case down on the floor, opened it, took out a pair of surgical gloves and put them on. She was a good-looking woman, with high cheekbones and long chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail.
    Kelly chuckled. ‘Not going to give him the full monty, are you?’ he asked. ‘We don’t think he’s got a shotgun up his back passage. We found his weapon at the warehouse.’
    The woman flashed Kelly a bored smile. ‘Contamination of evidence,’ she said. She pointed at the handcuff on Macdonald’s right wrist. ‘You’ll need to take that off so he can remove his