‘If we continue sitting here, it’ll become a bloody goldfish,’ he joked about the tattoo.

Alan had barely arrived before the hostages were chained together in groups. Daniel was tied together with the Belgian from MSF and the Russian Sergei. They collected all the blankets they could carry and Daniel dragged a small mattress up on to the back of a pickup, where the hostages were covered by the blankets, so that no one could see them. After a short drive, they were separated into two trucks and began a journey of several days to the ISIS stronghold.

Daniel crawled over some boxes and further into the back of the truck. With his blindfold on, he arranged the blankets and the mattress so that he sat fairly softly against the metal skeleton of the cargo hold.

When the truck set off, he pulled the blindfold down around his neck. Beside him sat Pierre and in the light that penetrated through the cracks in the tarpaulin over the hold, Daniel and Pierre could see the Spanish Chef wearing a suicide vest. Pierre was annoyed that the guard was sitting with the prisoners. It precluded an escape attempt and Pierre left the piece of aluminium from a can of hummus, which he often used to unlock his handcuffs, in his pocket.

Then Pierre noticed that the cartons which surrounded them in the cargo hold resembled those the prisoners had previously been served dates from. Pierre leaned towards Daniel.

‘Look in the boxes,’ he urged.

They were indeed sat among boxes of dates and, when it was dark and the Spanish Chef was sleeping, Pierre took out a bag from one of the boxes. Should they open it? If they were caught eating the dates, the guards would regard it as theft, which in the caliphate’s book was punishable by chopping off a hand. Their hunger won and they sneakily ate from the bag, which they afterwards hid at the bottom of the box.

There weren’t only dates in the cargo hold. There were also some wooden boxes with the word ‘explosives’ printed along the sides. Daniel could feel his insides contracting as it dawned on him what this meant: he was being transported next to explosives, probably roadside bombs, which were one of ISIS’s trademark weapons. When enemy forces advanced into ISIS territories, they were often met by mines that ISIS buried in roads, in gardens and in doorways.

After their meal of dates Daniel lay down to sleep, while Pierre made use of the silence of the night to look out from under the tarpaulin to get an idea of where they were going. Far into the night, the truck stopped and, after several requests, the prisoners were finally allowed to get out and pee. Daniel walked a few metres off into the roadside to urinate. It was the first time in over eight months that he had been able look around outside.

There was a frosty mist, but an otherwise clear sky. The moonlight penetrated the greyish-white, dusty air, which was illuminated by the headlights of a long convoy of trucks waiting in queues in both directions. He could see vehicles for as far his poor eyesight could stretch. Pierre noticed a huge truck loaded with military vehicles, while on the back of a small pickup sat women and children. Other vehicles were loaded with goods and cargo that were apparently being transported to and from the ISIS areas.

When the convoy set off again, a whispered rumour spread in the back of the truck. Pierre and the Spanish hostages wanted to try and escape. They would cut a hole in the tarpaulin and jump out when they reached a desert landscape like the one in which they had just stopped. Pierre imagined that it would be impossible to see them if they quickly got away from the road. They would run in the direction of the border and avoid towns along the way.

Daniel shuddered at the thought. His own failed escape attempt fresh in his mind, he thought the plan being drawn up by Pierre and the other prisoners would be impossible to execute. There were at least ten of them in the back of the truck, all dressed in orange prison suits and barefoot. They had no idea where they were or what lay hidden in the surrounding area. Their orange clothing would shine like spotlights in the dark and they would be dependent on meeting someone willing to help them. Moreover, those who were left in the truck would probably be punished when the guards discovered that some of the hostages had escaped. Those hostages who had experienced torture didn’t want to try to escape, including Daniel. He would rather die than escape, then be captured and tortured again. It was different for Pierre. He hadn’t experienced the worst of the torture.

It was still dark when the truck stopped at a farm along a country lane. They were thrown into a concrete shed with frosted windows, where the hostages from the other truck were already waiting for them. None of them had been given any food.

There was a washing machine and an iron bed in the shed. Blankets and mattresses were scattered over the floor. Pierre and one of the Spaniards found a pair of scissors, which they could use to cut a hole in the tarpaulin. Someone put the scissors in his pocket, after which they went searching in a pile of clothes that were scattered about. There were used trousers and shirts for men, which they could wrap around their feet and use as shoes. Pierre told Daniel about the escape plan in detail and he briefly considered escaping with them, because he couldn’t handle being left alone.

Just before dawn all nineteen hostages were pushed into the back of the truck. One of them asked if they might eat the dates.

‘As many as you want,’ came the reply.

It became a date feast. Daniel opened different bags. Some were dry and tough, others juicy and soft. As they assuaged their hunger with the dates, their thirst increased; and then there was the next challenge: a toilet visit. Some of them got diarrhoea from the dates. They found a plastic bag, which they stuffed into a cardboard box to form a makeshift toilet. But it wasn’t an easy target to hit in the twilight, while in a moving vehicle. When one of them tried to use the box, he didn’t aim straight. The others got angry and asked where they were supposed to sit in the cramped space when people were crapping all over the place. Some of them howled with laughter and tried to cover the faeces with a blanket. It stank. It was a madhouse, with nineteen hostages in a few square metres.

Meanwhile, Pierre sat preoccupied, looking out through the tarpaulin. They had stopped in a convoy, as if permission wasn’t being given to drive any further. Besides that, it was beginning to get light out and he saw for himself how the grand escape plan was crumbling.

The truck made several stopovers during the journey, when the hostages were temporarily stored in rooms and cellars. After they had been travelling for several days, Pierre observed through the tarpaulin how the desert landscape was coming closer and they sensed they were heading northwards.

They drove past some ancient Roman walls in what looked like Sergiopolis, south-west of Raqqa. Between the old ruins, Pierre caught sight of oil that was flowing out into the sand and the warriors raised their guns and shouted ‘Allahu akhbar!’ while firing into the air. It made Daniel jump, because he was sitting next to a box of explosives.

Later they drove past some green fields, which could indicate they were close to the Euphrates River, which runs through Raqqa province. When they stopped in a small town, the Spanish Chef got off. Before he left them, he stuck his head into the cargo hold and gave the hostages a final piece of advice:

‘Find another job; stop being journalists.’

It was a relief when the truck finally reached its destination and they were led into a room with uncovered windows. They weren’t allowed to bring their blankets, but were given new ones and some pizza, which they shared among themselves.