To Cut a Long Story Short (2000) by Jeffrey Archer Page A

to purchase in the men’s department the previous day for an outlay of
PS23.
    ‘Any particular style?’ asked the sales assistant.
    ‘I’d prefer silver.’
    ‘Of course, sir,’ said Mr Parker, who proceeded to place on the counter several boxes of silver cufflinks.
    Kenny already knew the pair he wanted, as he had picked them out the previous Saturday afternoon. ‘What about those?’ he asked, pointing to the top shelf. As the sales assistant
turned away, Kenny checked the TV surveillance camera and took a pace to his right, to be sure that they could see him more clearly. While Mr Parker reached up to remove the cufflinks, Kenny slid
the chosen pair off the counter and slipped them into his jacket pocket before the assistant turned back round.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Kenny saw a security guard moving swiftly towards him, while at the same time speaking into his walkie-talkie.
    ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the guard, touching his elbow. ‘I wonder if you would be kind enough to accompany me.’
    ‘What’s this all about?’ demanded Kenny, trying to sound annoyed, as a second security guard appeared on his other side.
    ‘Perhaps it might be wise if you were to accompany us, so that we can discuss the matter privately,’ suggested the second guard, holding onto his arm a little more firmly.
    ‘I’ve never been so insulted in my life,’ said Kenny, now speaking at the top of his voice. He took the cufflinks out of his pocket, replaced them on the counter and added,
‘I had every intention of paying for them.’
    The guard picked up the box. To his surprise the irate customer then accompanied him to the interview room without uttering another word.
    On entering the little green-walled room, Kenny was asked to take a seat on the far side of a desk. One guard returned to his duties on the ground floor while the other remained by the door.
Kenny knew that on an average day, forty-two people were arrested for shoplifting at Harrods, and over 90 per cent of them were prosecuted.
    A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, thin man with a weary look on his face entered the room. He took a seat on the other side of the desk and glanced across at Kenny before pulling
open a drawer and removing a green form.
    ‘Name?’ he said.
    ‘Kenny Merchant,’ Kenny replied without hesitation.
    ‘Address?’
    ‘42 St Luke’s Road, Putney.’
    ‘Occupation?’
    ‘Unemployed.’
    Kenny spent several more minutes accurately answering the tall man’s enquiries. When the inquisitor reached his final question, he spent a moment studying the silver cufflinks before
filling in the bottom line. Value: PS90. Kenny knew all too well the significance of that particular sum.
    The form was then swivelled round for Kenny to sign, which to the inquisitor’s surprise he did with a flourish.
    The guard then accompanied Kenny to an adjoining room, where he was kept waiting for almost an hour. The guard was surprised that Kenny didn’t ask what would happen next. All the others
did. But then, Kenny knew exactly what was going to happen next, despite the fact that he had never been charged with shoplifting before.
    About an hour later the police arrived and he was driven, along with five others, to Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court. There followed another long wait before he came up in front of the
magistrate. The charge was read out to him and he pleaded guilty. As the value of the cufflinks was under PS100, Kenny knew he would receive a fine rather than a custodial sentence, and he
waited patiently for the magistrate to ask the same question he had when Kenny had sat at the back of the court and listened to several cases the previous week.
    ‘Is there anything else you would like me to take into consideration before I pass sentence?’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ said Kenny. ‘I stole a watch from Selfridges last week. It’s been on my conscience ever since, and I would like to return it.’ He beamed up at the