Cameron dropped his knees slightly and then drove upwards and backwards, smashing the back of his skull into Arken’s nose and mouth with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted as Arken’s head flew backwards with the force of the impact and instinctively his hands came up, releasing Cameron who dived away from the big gangster.

Tom flew forwards and crashed into Arken’s midriff with his shoulder in a head-on rugby tackle. It was like running into a brick wall, but he felt the breath explode from the Serbian with a whoosh. He fell backwards with Tom landing square on top of him, and Tom grabbed for the arm that still held the pistol, trying to pin it to the floor. Arken, though, was too strong and, regaining some of his composure, began to fight back, clubbing Tom across the back of his head with his free fist. The pain was ferocious, but Tom grimly held on, realising that if Arken got his gun hand free it was all over.

Out of nowhere Cameron appeared and stamped down on Arken’s hand. He was still wearing his work boots and the Serb cried out as the bones crunched against the metal of the pistol. He released the weapon, which Cameron kicked away to slide across the shiny floor. Arken, now alive to the new threat, kicked out blindly from his prone position towards Cameron, catching him square in the side and sending him flying across the room, where he crashed into the coffee table.

Arken let out a roar of fury and unleashed a volley of punches with his good hand at Tom, who had tucked his head into the man’s side to try to avoid the blows. Arken tried to roll over onto his side, trying to stand. That was a big mistake, despite the enormous size disparity between him and Tom. Tom immediately released Arken and slid across his body, locking onto his now-exposed back and encircling the man’s massive bull-neck with his left arm. He locked that in place by gripping onto his own right arm, inflicting a rear naked choke on the big Serb. Tom’s right hand snaked to the back of Arken’s head, driving it forwards, and he squeezed with all his strength, compressing the man’s carotid arteries and driving his wrist bones into his throat.

It was like holding onto an angry bear as the man bucked and struggled and fought for his life, but Tom’s technique and strength were too good and he soon began to flag. No one can survive long once the blood supply to the brain is interrupted. After forty seconds he had stopped struggling. Tom held on for a further minute until he could feel nothing and then released his arms to fall back onto the tiles, exhausted and gasping for breath.