‘What a pathetic creature you are. I should follow the words of the Prophet and be merciful to living creatures. But taking your life would almost be too merciful,’ Shamil said and poked at Kaare with the toe of his boot.
Kaare did not flinch an eyelid but slowly sat up against the wall with his legs folded in front of him. He had been trying to do squats every day. He had also attempted sit-ups, even though it had made his crotch hurt like hell. It had strengthened his backbone, but he quickly plunged back deep into the dark abyss of his own self-pity. The sight of Shamil’s smug face erased his hopes of escape, like footprints in a blizzard. However, Kaare would not give his captor the satisfaction of seeing his despair, and instead, he closed his eyes.
‘Your brain is eating away at you. Do you worry about whether or not you’ll survive? If you don’t escape, you’ll perish because you lack any self-preservation thread. Interesting dilemma, isn’t it?’
‘Inshallah, as you say,’ replied Kaare hoarsely.
‘That’s correct; nothing happens without God wanting it, and his will is greater than all wills of mankind. But I’ve sworn to avenge my brother, and in my family, that’s not an issue for God to be concerned with.’303
Kaare opened his eyes but did not dare meet Shamil’s gaze for fear of revealing his weakness. Instead, he focused on the bundle of clothes Shamil was carrying. Was he about to be moved somewhere else? Kaare knew that hostage takers often moved their captives from place to place. That was down to Partito Comunista Combattente, a faction of the Italian Red Brigades. In 1981 they kidnapped the American General James L. Dozier and held him captive in an apartment in Padua in northern Italy. Their mistake had been to keep him in the same flat for forty-two days, which had made it easier for American and Italian anti-terrorist forces to free him. The Hezbollah militia in Lebanon were masters of hostage-taking. They constantly moved their hostages from place to place and could keep the hostages hidden for years. Even though the Israeli Special Forces had managed to infiltrate the militias of south Lebanon, they could not locate kidnapped Israeli soldiers.
Shamil pulled out a large hunting knife, took hold of Kaare’s arms and severed the plastic strips that bound them with one quick blade flick.
‘Put this on, then I’ll come back for you later,’ Shamil said, throwing the clothes at Kaare’s feet.
Kaare started to massage his wrists and restore circulation as he slowly got dressed.
‘Present your hands!’ Shamil barked impatiently when Kaare was dressed, and placed a new plastic strip around Kaare’s wrists.
After Shamil had left the room, Kaare collapsed on the floor again. Positive thoughts were not exactly lining up. He tried to focus on how good it felt to be dressed again. But it was hard to keep his courage from faltering. Will I ever see Ulla and the boys on camp again? He was glad that none of them could see him now; 304his mental state was far from its normal strength. He began to weep, but there were no tears, just a quiet sobbing that made his body wrack and shiver. He had always bragged about staring death squarely in the face when parachuting from a plane. He had never been driven by a death wish. It was the feeling of being alive that motivated him. But the feeling of life gushing through his veins was distant. Hard to recall. Over the past few days he had felt the courage and will to live wane. Slowly but surely. He regretted that he had never been particularly religious. Maybe faith would have given him inner peace, enabling him to reconcile with his fate. But it was too late now. Kaare wiped his nose on his sleeve and curled torpidly into the foetal position. Death will at least liberate the body from further pain.