‘If I’m going to get out, then it fucking well needs to be now,’ Daniel said despondently.

‘Calm down, everything will be OK,’ reassured Dan.

‘If I don’t get out of here alive, and you get out, will you do me a favour?’ Daniel asked.

Dan nodded.

‘Buy a bouquet of roses for Signe, and one for Christina when she finishes high school.’

· * ·

On 19 April an email landed in Susanne’s inbox. It was the sort of email the family had agreed with Arthur they wouldn’t open. It contained a compressed file that came with instructions on how to download it, as well as a password which included ‘9-11’.

Arthur was the first to download the file. It was Ringo’s video from the grave in the desert. There were also several photographs of Daniel, who was holding the paper with the demand for €2 million. He stood in a white shirt, and his blindfold, a piece of grey cloth, was wrapped around his neck. The captors wrote in the email:

Stop wasting valuable time and come up with our demand for cash before it’s too late.

The Easter gala for Daniel’s benefit was held in Svendborg. Volunteers had been working hard to get the arrangements off the ground. A number of gymnasts were going to perform; some people had organized a bake sale; and Anita had made sure the audience could further contribute to the fund by buying photographs that Daniel had taken of the World Team in Denmark.

Anita gave a welcome speech and she took a deep breath as she stood alone in the spotlight on the floor in front of 1,100 paying spectators, who had crowded into the hall. She stuck closely to her script.

‘First, on behalf of the family, I’d like to thank you all for coming here today – not only those of you who knew the purpose of the show in advance, but also those of you who have just found out. For obvious reasons, it has been necessary to exercise great discretion about the show being a support show for my brother,’ she began.

‘Unfortunately, we haven’t reached our target yet and that is why we still need your help. But we also know that many of you who are here today have already supported us financially and that the possibilities you have of giving us further support are limited. So the greatest help you can give is if all of you go home and pass on the message to your networks and anyone you think will support us.’

The sea of people in front of her applauded and the show began.

Even though the Easter gala brought in 175,000 kroner (€23,500/£18,200), Anita was running out of ideas about where next to turn to reach the target. Daniel’s pictures hadn’t exactly been bestsellers. It was only thanks to some slightly larger contributions, and because they took a chance and offered about 2 million kroner more than they actually had, that, on 24 April, the family could email Syria with an offer of 9.7 million kroner (about €1.3 million or £1,009,300).

The agreement was that the kidnappers would send a picture of Daniel when the family had collected €1.3 million, which they did the same day. Susanne thought that Daniel had put on weight. His face looked almost plump or swollen as he sat there, holding a sign with the message: ‘We appreciate your quick reply and the fact that four more have been united’ – a reference to the release of the French.

Pierre also reached out to Daniel’s family. He called Susanne’s mobile while she was sitting on the sofa with a blanket over her legs. She had difficulty understanding the French-English accent, but managed to interpret that, according to Pierre, Daniel was well. They agreed that the family would call Pierre over Skype, so that Arthur could also be present and act as interpreter.

They all gathered in front of the computer, listening to Pierre as he recounted how he and Daniel had played games, done gymnastics and spent time together in the evening.

‘The kidnappers would like to release Daniel,’ said Pierre.

Anita asked about the pearl-shaped marks around Daniel’s neck, which were there on the first images the family had received during the summer of 2013.

‘What happened to him?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Pierre. ‘Daniel got those before I got to know him.’ He went on to address Anita, saying that he knew she had won the World Championship in bodybuilding.

The most important message he had to pass on, however, was the wording of the questions that Arthur and the family had to formulate the next time the kidnappers asked them to send some. Pierre passed on the codes that he and Daniel had agreed about the red truck, the amber motorcycle and the apple-green car.

‘Daniel wants to know the truth,’ concluded Pierre. ‘Even if you send a question to which the answer is Kjeld’s red truck.’

· * ·

‘Where’s the Danish boy?’

The question echoed around the cell, where all the hostages were now together again. The converts, James, John, Peter and Toni, had been moved back.

John was standing with a camera in his hands.

‘Are you ready to have your picture taken?’ he asked. Daniel felt that the British guard was staring at his body. ‘Have you been exercising?’

‘A little,’ said Daniel.

‘Then we can box with you,’ suggested John and began hitting and slapping Daniel’s body.

‘I’m not so good at boxing,’ Daniel said, trying to avoid being drawn in to the fight.

John and Ringo threw punches at his shoulders and ribs until Daniel lay on the floor in the foetal position.

‘You’re bad at boxing … Would you rather dance?’ John took hold of Daniel’s clothes and pulled him to his feet. ‘Come on, let’s dance!’ he shouted.

Daniel felt John’s hand on the upper part of his back. He stood face to face with the hooded Brit who was holding Daniel’s outstretched arm and forcing him over the floor in a stiff tango pose. Daniel didn’t dare look at John and instead stared down at his desert boots and his own bare feet, which were moving in tandem, back and forth in a fierce tango, while the rest of the Beatles laughed.

John’s back felt broad and muscular under Daniel’s hand. Each time they turned, the Brit exaggerated the movements before again flinging Daniel across the floor.

Stop, stop, stop! he screamed inside. Suddenly John stopped.

‘Look into the camera,’ he said and gave Daniel a few slaps. ‘Look unhappy,’ he continued, while he took pictures of his Danish prisoner.

‘Perfect, Daniel. That was well done.’

Suddenly, one of the Brits tackled Daniel from behind while another pushed him forwards, so he toppled to the floor.

‘Do you like my boot?’ said John, sticking the toe end of his boot into Daniel’s mouth. ‘Taste the earth.’

One of the other guards found a pair of pliers and, while holding his arms and legs against the floor, they put the pliers on Daniel’s nose, to their own great amusement. Then they clamped it on his fingers.

‘What do you think? Should we cut off his nose or his fingers?’ they teased.

When the Beatles were finally done beating him up, Daniel sat back bruised and bewildered.

‘Is there anyone who can cut hair?’ asked one of the British guards.

Daniel raised his hand.

‘Then come with me.’

They let him walk out of the cell into the corridor without a blindfold or handcuffs. With his face to the wall, he sat cross-legged on a carpet with a trimmer, scissors and a comb and a bucket for the tufts of hair. John stood in the doorway and called James out from his place in the cell. James came out and sat down opposite Daniel with a document in his hands on which there were a series of statements he had to practise saying.

The haircut was an attempt to get the three American and the three British hostages to look good on the video recordings the Beatles were preparing. Daniel trimmed James’s sideburns, cut back the length of his hair a little and trimmed his moustache, while James practised reciting a demand of €100 million in ransom – or the extradition of six Muslim prisoners from the United States. James had to talk about his brother, who was in the Air Force, and about his own trips as a reporter, when he had been with the US forces in Afghanistan. Daniel got a chill down his spine. The message sounded more like a death sentence than a real demand.