When on deployments with SRR, BJJ practise had become a big part of their training regime. It could be practised anywhere, was relevant to the job, and was a good pastime in the long periods of inactivity that often blight soldiering.

The Islington gym was a large, cavernous area with big matted grappling zones, a weights zone, kettlebell racks, squat racks, and strong-man zones. Old tractor tyres, battle ropes, sledge hammers and atlas stones dotted the training areas. It was not a corporate gym with treadmills, cross trainers and weights machines, but a serious, no-frills establishment for dedicated trainers. Hard-core kit for hard-core workouts. Thumping heavy metal music shook the air, competing with the sounds of exertion, shouts and grunts from a mix of all types of people. City businessmen rubbed shoulders with rough looking, tattooed monsters and slim females, all training hard. The motto: ‘Train Hard or Go Home’ was emblazoned on a large poster on the wall facing the entrance. The painted walls streamed with condensation, rolling in rivulets down the chipped surfaces.

Ivan had a quiet word with the gym owner, a brute of a man in his fifties dressed in a grey sweatshirt and jeans, hunkered in front of a battered laptop. He looked Tom up and down, nodded and then said in a surprisingly light voice, ‘I’m Tommy. This is my place. Have a trial week, mate, if you want. Ivan here tells me you’re a handy MMA man. If you like it, we’ll sort you out with a membership.’ He winked and then turned back to his laptop.

Tom went into the changing rooms and emerged wearing shorts and a tight rash vest and trainers. He began gently warming up, going through a series of stretches and Pilates movements, while Ivan kept a look-out for Luka. Tom’s routine drew some quizzical looks from one or two of the guys pumping iron, but Tom smiled inwardly; he was always careful with his warm-ups and it helped him mentally. Once warm and stretched, he moved over to the squat rack and loaded up an Olympic bar and began his usual squat routine, loading the 20kg plates and increasing after every set. He started light, at 80kg, pushing the repetitions out with strict form, head back, pushing though the heels and lowering himself fully at the end of each repetition.

After a while he became aware that Ivan was watching him, accompanied by a well-built, muscular man with dirty blonde hair and sleeve tattoos on both arms. He immediately recognised Luka from the briefing pictures. Ignoring both, he loaded the bar up with his working weight of 180kg, carefully pushed out a good solid six repetitions and then re-set the bar on the rack. As he finished, Ivan and Luka approached.

‘Tomo, this is a friend of mine, Luka,’ said Ivan. ‘He loves a bit of BJJ and MMA. Luka, Tomo is a fellow countryman.’