by Puk Damsgård
Arthur put a hand out to signal that the deal was over and received a firm, almost hard, handshake. They nodded in agreement and held eye contact. Arthur felt they were both sizing each other up, looking for confirmation that they had a deal.
Then the man put the rucksack over his shoulders and sat on the back of the motorcycle, which revved its engine and headed towards the border.
Arthur stood for a minute and watched them disappear, before calmly getting into his car and driving towards Elbeyli. He sent a text message to his team: ‘All done.’
He then wrote a message via Susanne’s email to the captors, reporting that the money had been handed over to the men on the motorcycle.
‘We exchanged the passwords that you sent and I shook hands to seal a successful transaction with your representative, who had a very impressive grip,’ he wrote and asked for instructions on where and when Daniel would cross the border.
· * ·
Anita packed a large bag. After conversations with the crisis psychologist, she had gathered various things that Daniel would want when he came out; first and foremost, a pair of glasses so that he could see properly again. She had already sent them with Arthur to Turkey.
She filled Daniel’s old toiletry bag with luxury body scrub and a scrubbing glove, shampoo, lotion, a razor and shaving cream, nail clippers, a face mask and pills for diarrhoea.
She and Susanne found some of Daniel’s old, worn Birkenstock sandals and trainers in a cupboard. She had been told that people store a lot of their memories in the feet and Daniel should therefore have something pleasant and recognizable to wear. She also packed some clothes. Susanne had bought a pair of boxer shorts with hearts on them. In addition, Anita packed a new mobile, Daniel’s favourite kind of liquorice, and some notes and photos that she had collected from Daniel’s friends and immediate family.
On 15 June, three days after the money had been delivered, Anita flew to the Turkish town of Gaziantep with the crisis psychologist. As they prepared to land, she stared into Syria and wondered if she could see the building in which Daniel was being held.
They settled into the hotel, where the representative from the Danish Foreign Ministry had already arrived. The hotel was situated in a beautiful old castle, but, as the psychologist pointed out, the otherwise romantic setting might present some challenges for a recently released hostage. By the entrance, old bullet holes adorned the wall, while the rooms were small and dark with bars on the windows. Anita’s room had bare stone walls and only a small window that made it feel like a cave. The psychologist didn’t think it would be a good idea for Daniel to sleep there.
They checked the bridal suite, which had gold painted walls and furniture, but that wasn’t appropriate either. Daniel shouldn’t be spending his first night of freedom in a bridal bed with his sister. They finally found a corner room with large windows and more air. It would just about do, so Anita set herself up there.
Everything was planned down to the last detail. The emissary from the Danish Foreign Ministry would receive him, while Anita waited in the adjoining room. The psychologist and Anita had already discussed what they would say if Daniel asked about Signe. It seemed to Anita that Signe had become more distant recently, and she rarely answered the phone when Anita called. Perhaps Signe was no longer waiting for Daniel to come home. Perhaps she needed to move on with her life.
The border police along the Turkish−Syrian border were informed that they should call Arthur if they came across a blond Dane. Arthur kept a lookout for him, too, and drove back and forth along the border for several days, but nothing happened.
Time passed. Anita sat in the sun at the hotel, managing the fundraising, crocheting and, during the first days, waiting patiently for her brother to cross the border. Then a nervousness began to spread. All the evidence suggested that Daniel would be the last hostage to be released for the time being. It had occurred to them more than once that ISIS might refuse to release him if this was going to be their final deal.
Arthur sent messages to the kidnappers and asked about Daniel, but there was no reply.
· * ·
Daniel woke up every morning with a heavy head and body from disturbed sleep and nightmares. Hostages were usually released in the morning, but the Beatles kept Daniel in suspense.
You think you’re going home and then you don’t, said his inner voice.
Most of the other released hostages had been freed two, three or four days after the last proof-of-life question. One had had to wait for eight days, but that didn’t make Daniel feel any easier, even though he had been waiting for only three days.
He went and sat with Alan and David.
‘If I get out, I’ll tell your children how great you’ve been,’ he said.
‘You’ve also been great, Daniel. You helped us to work out.’ They told him that they couldn’t understand how he had managed to recover from the torture he had been subjected to in the beginning.
They hugged each other. Daniel never knew whether he would suddenly be fetched, so he wanted to make sure that he had said goodbye to the remaining seven hostages.
Four days after Daniel had been given his question about the apple-green car, the Beatles asked Toni a question. It only made Daniel even more uncertain and despondent, because it could mean that the German was first in line to be released.
The days crawled by and so did the nights. Daniel lay sleepless, staring out into the darkness and got up before dawn.
On the morning of 17 June, James was also awake. He went over and sat with Daniel and put his hand on his knee.
‘You need to be strong,’ said James softly. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be OK. They’ll probably come in a minute and then you’ll be on your way.’
Daniel didn’t understand where James got his extraordinary reserves of inner strength. He wished so much for all of them to be on their way home, not just himself and Toni.
James went back to sleep in his place in the corner. Shortly after, the Beatles banged on the cell door. They all knelt and turned to face the wall, their hands over their heads a few inches from the concrete. It was now, thought Daniel, that he would either die or go home.
The Beatles asked Daniel and Toni to turn around. In front of them stood a woman whom Daniel hadn’t seen before, but who had to be the other woman who was locked up with Kayla. When she removed her veil, he saw that she was quite a bit older than him.
‘Can you confirm that she’s alive?’ asked the Beatles.
‘Yes,’ answered Daniel.
The Beatles ordered the woman to pass on a message.
‘Just say they should hurry up and pay the money and do what they’re being told to do,’ she said.
Then she had to write the ransom sum on a piece of paper. She seemed nervous and Daniel tried to calm her by asking whether there was anything else he should tell her family.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Tell them I love them.’
‘Is there anything else you want to say?’ asked one of the Beatles irritably.
‘No.’
Then she was taken from the cell.
Daniel ended up leaving the cell without another word. He and Toni suddenly had blankets thrown over their heads; their hands were handcuffed behind their backs and, with a heavy shove, they were led away.
They were put into the back seat of a car. All three Beatles were going with them and George started the car. The hostages were told to duck down so that no one could see them.
‘Tell us what you know about us,’ ordered George from the front seat.
‘I know you’re from Great Britain and that you’re here to perform jihad,’ said Daniel.
‘Who are the Beatles?’ they asked.
‘That’s you,’ said Daniel.
George told him they had found a note that said something about the Beatles. He was probably referrin
g to one of the notes that Daniel and his fellow prisoners had exchanged with the female hostages in the toilet.
‘What do you know about the Beatles?’ they asked, and Toni and Daniel told them that they called them John, George and Ringo, because they didn’t know their real names.
The interrogation stopped there and, after an hour, they pulled off the road and switched cars. That was the last time Daniel saw the Beatles – until one of them appeared in a video he would see two months later.
The driver of the car made Daniel and Toni put on blindfolds while he drove along small bumpy roads, before turning on to a larger, asphalted road.
After a few hours they were led into a house. They were allowed to move freely between two rooms, a toilet and a corridor, where there was an open window. Daniel recognized an orange floral blanket that one of the other hostages had had with him in the cell. It was a good sign.
A muscular warrior and a little boy came in with hummus, sardines and butter. Toni only ate the butter, while Daniel tucked into the rest, before falling, exhausted, into a deep sleep.
Late in the afternoon they were woken up with yoghurt and twelve pancakes, and, in the middle of the night, bread, tuna and cream cheese were served. After yet another night, on the morning of 19 June, they were hurriedly given hoods and handcuffed and herded a few hundred yards across a gravel yard to a new room, where Daniel did his usual training exercises to keep a cool head.
He was interrupted by a friendly man, who asked, ‘Is there anything you need?’
Daniel and Toni said, ‘No, thanks.’
They had no idea how they were supposed to reply to a question they hadn’t been asked for months. They just said, ‘We’re fine.’
‘Do you have shampoo and toothbrushes?’ asked the man and continued without waiting for an answer, ‘You need some new clothes. What size are you? Large?’
The man wrote a shopping list and came back with toothbrushes, shampoo, towels, cream, hair gel, soap, cotton buds, toothpicks, nail clippers and some lotion for the scars on Daniel’s wrists.
They were promised a bath later in the day, so they waited to change their clothes.
Then another man appeared in the doorway and motioned for them to follow him. Daniel bent down to pick up his blindfold and handcuffs from the floor.
‘No, no, you’re free now,’ the man said. ‘Just take your things and come with me.’
Daniel lifted the plastic bags containing toiletries and clothes and stepped out into the light. His fear disappeared immediately. The soft afternoon sun streamed out to meet him and he could see the outside world, the sand-coloured buildings, a gate, a street with two men on a motorcycle, a checkpoint with armed men. He suddenly felt that he had forgotten something – his keys or his wallet, which he always double-checked before he left home. Then he laughed at himself.
A young and slightly fat man asked Daniel to get into his four-wheel drive, while Toni was shown a place where he could take a bath. Daniel looked around him from the back seat. A few older men in tunics were drinking tea on the other side of the street and a man with a long beard was talking to the driver. They laughed and the man looked at Daniel, who looked down. Toni soon came back and the scent of soap permeated the car.
‘The water isn’t very good here. You’ll get a bath later,’ they promised Daniel.
As they drove off, Daniel looked at the small shops along the road, at the people out shopping, and at the dry, brown fields that stretched to the Turkish border. Life had obviously been going on as usual during the thirteen months he had been in captivity. It was only inside him that everything had changed.
The driver said he had also driven an Italian with a full beard and two aid workers from Médecins Sans Frontières.
‘Cool guys,’ he remarked, before continuing, ‘You will always be welcome to come back to the Islamic State. You just need a press permit. We have nothing against journalists as long as we know who you are. If you don’t have one, we have to arrest you.’
They had reached the outskirts of the Syrian border town of Tel Abyad, where small farms lay spread out over green fields. A shepherd was crossing the road with his animals.
‘Dawlah has taken control here,’ said the driver, meaning ISIS. ‘We’re much bigger than you think. You’ll get a shock when you see how powerful we are.’
They arrived at a building on the border; there were bullet holes in the walls and it was in the process of being renovated; some men were outside watering the plants. Once inside, Daniel signed what appeared to be informal exit papers, before being shown upstairs, where he took a short bath and rubbed lotion on the scars on his wrists.
Although the clothes in the bag had been bought in large sizes, the tight green shirt didn’t cover his stomach and the underpants were too small, so his penis hung out under the heavy, olive-coloured trousers he’d been given.
Toni and Daniel sat for a few hours in a waiting room with a fridge and some heavy furniture. While they were waiting, the driver showed them a BBC graphic on his mobile, showing how far the caliphate had spread in the past year. Daniel could see that ISIS had increased its territory from Raqqa and northern Syria across the border into Iraq, where they now held Mosul.
‘The caliphate is a well-functioning society under the rule of law,’ the driver said. ‘We aren’t as bad as people think. Send an email next time you want to come to Syria.’ He followed them out into the foyer, where another young man with glasses received them.
The man asked about James Foley, about whether or not he was still alive, because he had heard rumours that he was dead. Daniel was then asked to write down the names of those hostages who he knew were still in captivity, before he and Toni were taken outside.
It was pitch-black along the border. Daniel could hear the cicadas as he walked over to a large car park near the border fence. The only thing he could see ahead was a military truck with some Turkish soldiers. The yellow glow from the border lights illuminated the soldiers, who jumped into a car as soon as they had let Daniel through a gate. He had thought a million times about this moment, where each step took him a few more inches away from all the horrible things he had been subjected to during his captivity.
In this instant, his mind was empty. He was caught in a void between what had recently been the constant fear of death, and now, life and the ordinary thoughts that he could look forward to. The transition happened during the few hundred yards it took to reach the Turkish border police. Then he was struck by a practical thought: would he have to try to find a flight home or would there be someone to meet him?
The Turkish guards invited Daniel, Toni and the Syrian who had accompanied them across the border into the border post, where police officers were busy watching a World Cup match between Colombia and the Ivory Coast. They sat down on a sofa and joined them. At one point an advertising banner rolled across the screen. For the first time in more than a year Daniel heard music with drums and guitar, while a sexy woman ran along a beach.
‘Daniel, would you like to borrow my mobile?’ asked the Syrian thoughtfully.
Daniel hadn’t given a single thought to being able to call home. He hurried outside and stood under a canopy beneath the starry Turkish sky. On 19 June at 8.37 p.m. he dialled his mother’s mobile number and heard her pick up the phone.
‘Hi Mum, it’s Daniel.’
Return to Freedom
Susanne came home from work, took a long bath and put on an old sweatsuit and thick socks. Kjeld was away at a gymnastics meet, so she crawled under the blanket on the sofa and turned on the television. She watched a news report about some people in a nearby park who shot rook chicks, which they then prepared and invited the townspeople to come and taste. The owner of a local wine shop was asked which wine would go best with the meal.
In the middle of the news item, Susanne’s mobile rang. She could see a long number from abroad
on the display, so she made her voice sound hard, just in case it was the kidnappers.
‘This is Susanne.’
‘Hi Mum, it’s Daniel. I’m free.’
‘What … is that Daniel?’ repeated Susanne, although she immediately recognized his voice.
They were both weeping so much that they could hardly hear what the other was saying.
‘I’m fine, Mum,’ sobbed Daniel. ‘Everything’s OK.’ Then he asked the three questions he had been thinking about for a long time.
‘Is Signe still there?’
‘Yes, she’s been so sweet.’
‘Have you sold everything you own to free me?’
‘No, we haven’t.’
‘Has Christina finished high school or has she dropped out?’
‘No, she’s working hard to finish her final exams.’
Susanne told him how good everyone had been and that no one had paid more than they could afford for the ransom.
‘Say hello to everyone,’ said Daniel.
‘Arthur’s coming to get you,’ said Susanne.
‘Who’s Arthur?’
‘The man you talked to before you went to Syria. Anita’s also in Turkey waiting for you.’
‘Mum, I have to go. Toni also wants to call home.’
Susanne immediately sent a message to Arthur that Daniel was at the border. Then she called Kjeld, who didn’t answer. Christina didn’t pick up her phone either. Signe answered and was given the news, and then Susanne managed to get hold of Kjeld. He swallowed a quick celebratory beer with his gymnastics friends and hurried home to Susanne, who had already opened a bottle of red wine, while the phone rang off the hook and friends and neighbours came by with champagne.
They were both fairly tipsy and very relieved when they fell asleep that night.
· * ·
Daniel wiped his eyes and went back into the guard room. He sat down on the sofa and tried to follow the World Cup match. But the players looked blurry on the little television, because he didn’t have his glasses. He looked at Toni, who was totally absorbed in the game.