Imperfect Killing Read Online Free Page B

as he passed the opaque windows at each level until he walked out onto the forecourt looking agitated. His gaze swept from side to side as if he
expected
an attack, although he was oblivious to the eyes of the police that were on him.
    As he walked past the van disguised as a satellite-installation vehicle the rear doors exploded open, SO19 officers jumping out two at a time screaming ‘Armed police! Down on the floor, down on the floor!’ A split second later the doors of the second van flew open and another six armed officers joined in the shouting of orders and pointing of weapons, each identifiable by their black baseball caps ringed with black and white checks and their body armour emblazoned with ‘police’ across the front and back. Other than that they just wore casual clothes and training shoes. They’d left their full body armour and protective clothing back at headquarters for more difficult armed operations.
    Thurlby stood rigidly glued to the spot, a look of terror across his face, his entire body trembling. ‘Get down. Get down.’ an advancing armed cop demanded, pointing his Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun at his chest. Slowly Thurlby dropped to his knees, his hands raised in the air.
    ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he pleaded loudly. ‘It wasn’t me.’
    ‘Face on the ground,’ the cop shouted. ‘Face on the ground – hands stretched out in front of you.’
    Thurlby did as he was told, tears beginning to pour from his eyes as he laid his cheek on the floor. ‘It wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me.’
    Two cops moved quickly to Thurlby’s side, kneeling on his back and using a set of plastic quick-cuffs to tie his wrists together before expertly searching the immobilized suspect. After only a few seconds he pulled a combat knife with a six-inch blade from Thurlby’s rear waistband and held it aloft shouting ‘Knife,’ before he tossed it to his colleagues. A minute or so later he held up an empty hand and called ‘Clear.’
    As soon as Sean saw the sign for
all clear
he jumped from his car and headed towards the scene where SO19 were now lifting Thurlby from the floor and holding him upright as he continued to sob. Sean and Benton approached the sergeant in charge of the SO19 team. ‘He’s all yours if you still want him,’ he declared.
    ‘Thanks,’ Sean told him. ‘Good work.’
    ‘Our pleasure,’ the sergeant smiled. ‘I reckon you’ve got your man here.’
    ‘Maybe.’ Sean turned to Thurlby. ‘Ruben Thurlby – I’m Detective Sergeant Corrigan and I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Sue Evans and for possessing an offensive weapon in a public place. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something that you later rely on in court. Anything that you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand, Ruben?’
    ‘I didn’t kill her,’ Thurlby pleaded. ‘It wasn’t me.’
    ‘Best to save it for the interview, Ruben,’ Sean warned him. ‘You can tell me all about it then.’
    ***
    Sean, Benton, Thurlby, his solicitor and appropriate adult all sat squeezed into the small, scruffy-looking interview room adjacent to the custody room of Southwark Police Station. The room had seen literally tens of thousands of interviews down the years and now it would witness one more. Sean pressed the record button on the twin deck interview tape recorder and filled the room with a high-pitched buzzing sound. After a few seconds the room was silent and Sean began.
    ‘I am Detective Sergeant Sean Corrigan and the other officer present is …’
    ‘DC Zack Benton,’ he spoke for himself.
    ‘We are in the interview room at Southwark Police Station and I am interviewing – could you state your name clearly for the tape please.’
    Thurlby looked to his solicitor who nodded it was okay, then to his appropriate adult who did the same before answering nervously. ‘Ruben Thurlby.’
    ‘Also present is your solicitor