Kjeld felt that the officials were friendly and welcoming, but it seemed to be part of their job to talk for hours without saying anything concrete. Decisions were often handed over to Kjeld, who felt totally unprepared. Neither he nor Susanne knew anything about kidnappings.
‘We’ll support you one hundred per cent in whatever you decide,’ was the usual message.
It could, for example, be a question of whether the family should spend another 50,000 kroner (about £٥,٣٠٠) so that Arthur could send several local investigators into Syria.
There was also material that the Ministry held back for good reason, such as information that other states had shared with Denmark and therefore couldn’t be disclosed. It gave Kjeld an unfamiliar feeling of having lost control of the situation.
Another problem also weighed on the family: the insurance payment of 5 million kroner had run out. It had been used up during the last few months on Arthur and others who were working around the clock to get Daniel home. Kjeld and Susanne asked cautiously at the Ministry if there was any help to be had for certain expenses, such as Arthur’s salary. But the bureaucrats were following the orders of the government, which insisted that they couldn’t cover Arthur’s work or any other costs in connection with the case. Luckily, they had some savings, and Arthur agreed to wait for payment.
The Ministry and the other authorities involved in Daniel’s case kept a low profile and took on the role of informing the government, while Arthur was in charge of the search for Daniel and in close contact with the family.
Anita didn’t experience culture shock with the Ministry in the same way as Susanne and Kjeld. She was used to going to meetings at ministries and other agencies as part of her work as a chemical engineer. She was able to keep some distance from the case and to understand it from several angles. However, she completely understood Kjeld’s and Susanne’s feeling of helplessness and their need for almost daily updates from Arthur. For them, no news quickly became bad news.
Every morning when Susanne dragged her body out of bed, she brewed herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the computer to check whether there were any important messages about Daniel. In addition to all the other new routines she had acquired to cope with the situation, she also listened every morning to the song ‘Small Shocks’ by the Danish band Panamah. For the three and a half minutes the track lasted, she let go, allowing herself to be in her grief, fear and longing, and cried from start to finish. Some mornings she played the song several times.
Although it was a love song, the lyrics expressed how she felt.
Will you come back home?
Here in the wee small hours, time goes by so slow
and when I think ahead
Knowing I have so much to do makes me feel so low
‘Dawn’s breaking soon, brothers’
‘Dawn’s breaking soon, brothers’
Promise me my love it’s not over yet
It’ll all work out
It’ll all work out
When the time is right
I miss you so
It’ll all work out
Now I pray with all my might
Hoping that the time is right
While I’m waiting here,
my lips go stiff and frozen without me knowing why
the small shocks that follow me no matter what
and why do I feel this longing
when all things pass away
‘Dawn’s breaking soon, brothers’
‘Dawn’s breaking soon, brothers’
· * ·
The hostages were moved from the Cigar Box back to the basement. The guard took Daniel by the shoulders and removed his blindfold, so that he could see the surprise that awaited him.
‘Toilet!’ shouted the guard enthusiastically.
The workmen had built a toilet in the basement room. This must mean they were going to be there for a long time.
On the other side of the corridor in the basement, a number of one-person cells, which already contained prisoners, had also been built. Daniel had heard them screaming when they were being beaten late at night.
Their own cell received yet another prisoner. Spanish war correspondent Marc Marginedas became the cell’s ninth foreign hostage. He was in his mid-forties and an experienced correspondent for the newspaper El Periódico in Barcelona. He had been in prison for a month in the basement of the children’s hospital in Aleppo before he joined Daniel’s group, but he still arrived with news from the outside world.
‘Denmark won the Eurovision Song Contest,’ he said, and told them about the Danish singer Emmelie de Forest performing in bare feet.
The more sombre news was that there had been a massive poison-gas attack at the end of August in the rebel-controlled areas on the outskirts of Damascus. Hundreds of people had lost their lives and the Americans had come close to intervening against the Assad regime, which they accused of being behind the atrocity. US involvement had been averted, however, because Russia put pressure on the regime and an agreement had been reached with the UN that Syria would allow its chemical weapons to be transported out of the country for destruction, including chemical warfare agents and the nerve gases sarin and mustard gas.
Daniel listened to the news from outside, which seemed strangely distant. Nothing other than the reality of captivity had existed for a long time. He had become accustomed to the days passing slowly and the now routine dramas of lice, faeces, blankets and food. After nearly five months in captivity, he had grown accustomed to being a hostage.
It was noon on 14 October. Daniel had just eaten a piece of bread with jam when they were asked to sit with their backs to the door.
He stole a glance under his armpit as more people entered the room and he saw a short man in a long camouflage tunic. Mattresses and pillows were dragged into the cell.
When the door was closed, Daniel turned round and instantly recognized James Foley and John Cantlie from the hospital prison. It was easy to remember James’s underbite and striking brown eyes beneath wide eyebrows. He hadn’t seen the man in the camouflage tunic before, but it turned out to be a German, Toni Neukirch. He was a trained chef and had travelled to Syria with a tent and sleeping bag to be a volunteer aid worker.
‘Oh boy, it’s just great to see you all!’ exclaimed James. First he gave his compatriot Steven a hug, after which he greeted the rest of the prisoners. There were now twelve hostages in the same room.
James said that he, Toni and John had been moved from the basement under the children’s hospital at the same time as Daniel and the others. They had been in the same prison, but in a different cell, until being moved together with the rest of the group. They rearranged their sleeping places, so now Daniel was in the corner furthest from the toilet beside Pierre. James took the spot by the door.
He was cool and collected and Daniel was extremely happy to see him, even though he didn’t really know the man. He felt as if they had received guests in their cell and he took pains to eat in a civilized manner.
James arrived with his broad smile and some pages that the guards had copied from books on Islam and given to him and others in the cell, as well as a ballpoint pen and a chess game made out of cardboard, with black and white pieces. Daniel noticed James’s long toes and that he also had a scar around one of his ankles. He couldn’t help but smile when James’s daydreaming and long limbs caused him to stumble or knock things over in the cell. When he reached for a water bottle, he was prone to tipping the other bottles over like dominoes. On the other hand, he took his conversion to Islam very seriously and prayed five times a day.