They asked him to check if he still had body lice. He found the small black insects and white eggs in his clothes, and when Pierre inspected his own clothing he discovered a large colony as well. The rest of the group refused to have lice near them, so Daniel and Pierre were sent to a space at one end of the cell, because there was an unwritten rule among the prisoners that the spread of diseases and pests should be avoided. If he tried to move into the ‘lice-free’ end, Daniel would immediately be asked to go back to his area. He protested loudly that they were treating him as if he was dirty and should be expelled from the group.

‘Check your own clothes,’ he said. ‘It just can’t be true that you don’t have lice. If Pierre has them, then it’s likely the rest of you have them too.’

It turned out they all had body lice, except for the newcomer, Steven, who lay without a blanket in the middle of the hard tile floor to keep as far away as possible from the others. Daniel was relieved that they were all infested. Lice had suddenly become common property – and they were also the world’s greatest pastime. Daniel and Pierre sat beside each other for hours squashing the small insects and debating whether it was enough to squeeze them flat or whether they should have their heads ripped off. Pierre was good at finding them with his long nails; every day they counted how many they had found and compared their size and colour.

They also talked about what might be happening outside the basement room. They could hear that someone was sawing, hammering and drilling, and by peeping out through the keyhole, they could see that a group of workmen was busy building something. They couldn’t see what it was, but it was clear that the guards didn’t want the workmen discovering the eight hostages in the cell. Toilet times were limited to early morning and late evening, when the workmen weren’t there. The guards also impressed on the prisoners that they should be quiet inside the cell during the day.

After almost a week, the guards elected to move the hostages upstairs to a room the prisoners began calling the Cigar Box. It measured just 6 feet by 13 feet, and the eight hostages had to lie in a row across the room, even though they were still sharing just two blankets.

‘If you look at us, you will be executed,’ said one guard firmly before closing the door.

The air didn’t circulate in that claustrophobic room, which had only a small window overlooking a wall, and the prisoners were so closely clumped together that they all knew everything about everyone else.

When Daniel and David were whispering about opening a kind of stress centre together, in a country house with lakes, trees and animals, one of the others interrupted them.

‘Shut up, you two. What a stupid idea. What do you think you can do with your skills?’

‘Stay out of our conversation,’ said Daniel, who felt he was about to explode. After all, he didn’t grumble when the others talked about their travels around the world.

And when Nicolas later got up and pulled himself up into the cell’s small window to look out, some of the others dragged him down roughly.

‘Don’t fucking do that again! You constitute a security risk,’ said Federico, reminding Nicolas that they had been given strict orders not to look at the guards. There could have been a guard standing there, staring at the window.

Frustrations grew in the unbearable heat of the Cigar Box, where they were all hungry and mentally exhausted. They were often given only a biscuit or a plate with a thin layer of hummus for sharing and the guards drained them psychologically with false promises. They called on the hostages to choose two or three among them to talk to a doctor from the Red Cross as part of a possible negotiation, but nothing happened. They realized it was a false hope that the guards had planted in their minds so that they wouldn’t try to escape.

As a defence against the tension, hunger and mental games, Daniel passed the time by playing the tour guide. The idea was that the hostages would visit each other for a few days when they were released. They would each tell the others about what they could offer in the way of experiences.

‘After you land at the airport in Billund, we’ll drive to my parents’ summer house, where there are exactly eight beds,’ began Daniel. ‘My mother, Susanne, will come and prepare meatballs, gravy and potatoes. Then we’ll go to my old boarding school and bounce on the trampoline and go canoeing on the lake and make a camp fire.’ They would grill and drink beer and Daniel’s cousin would serve her special chocolate layer cake.

‘We’ll also go to Legoland, where my mother works,’ said Daniel.

Pierre played along and told them that it would be best to visit him in the autumn.

‘This is my favourite time of the year, because then there are apples on our apple trees,’ he said. They would pick apples and make cider and cakes, which they would enjoy in the garden.

The game eased the atmosphere, as did the industrial fan the guards put into the cell. It made so much noise that some of them got migraines, but under the cover of the noise, the prisoners could talk together in pairs without everyone being able to listen in on the conversation.

Someone knocked hard on the door – harder and faster than usual.

‘Hands on the wall!’ shouted a man with a British accent.

Daniel noted that he had a much firmer tone than the French guards who were the most frequent visitors. He found it both frightening and dangerous, because the man spoke fluent English and he understood every word.

The prisoners weren’t allowed to turn around towards the British man, who demanded answers on how often they were given food and if they were allowed to use the toilet.

‘We don’t get much food,’ said one of the prisoners.

‘You should be happy with what you get,’ said the Brit, adding on the way out that they would soon be under his custody.

When the door closed, the hostages turned and faced each other. Federico and David were deathly pale and their hands were shaking. They recognized the voice and the British accent.

‘There were three Brits when we were in the Box,’ they explained, referring to the place where they had been held before Daniel met them.

‘What did they do to you?’ someone asked.

Silence fell in the Cigar Box. They didn’t want to go into detail and Daniel imagined that the Brit had been their torturer, their Abu Hurraya.

‘It will be a completely different daily routine if we are put under the control of the British,’ said David and Federico.

They went through their advice for best behaviour. Look at the wall. Always respond succinctly to their questions. Be humble. Don’t answer back. Be extremely grateful. Never ask for anything.

There was disquiet in the cell. What would this mean for their release? What would a negotiation be like under the control of the British jailers?

· * ·

In mid-September 2013 Arthur received information that Daniel had been moved to a new location in Aleppo. There was no indication of where exactly or where the many other kidnapped journalists were – including James Foley, whom he had been trying to find for the last ten months.

There had been total silence since Susanne and Kjeld sent their personal appeal to Emir Abu Athir. They didn’t know whether or not he had even received their letter. Every shred of information about Daniel gave them new hope, and with Anita they made regular trips from Jutland to Copenhagen to attend meetings at the Foreign Ministry, where they were served coffee, lemon moon cake and pastries. There was a definite culture clash when the couple from Hedegård, who were used to being in control of their lives, met the rather stiff and bureaucratic officials.

The Foreign Ministry’s primary role was to host meetings at which the various actors who were dealing with the ‘Daniel affair’, as the Ministry called it, could exchange information and discuss strategy. Arthur was present every now and then, if he wasn’t in Turkey.