The woman shook her head as if she didn’t believe him.

“We’re here to help you,” he said, nodding at the interpreter to begin. “But we have to understand where you’ve been and what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I have no idea. I was sitting in a cold room, it was so cold...”

She began to cry. Henrik exchanged glances with Jana, pausing to let the woman catch her breath.

“This room you’re talking about,” Henrik said. “Do you know where the room is?”

“I don’t know,” she said with confusion in her voice.

Henrik saw that she was moving her legs under the blanket. He repeated that she was safe and that everything would be okay. She looked him in the eyes without replying.

“What is your name?” Henrik asked.

She looked down.

“Pimnapat Pandith, but I go by Pim.”

Henrik leaned back in his chair, letting his arms rest freely on the armrests. He noticed that Jana was writing in a notebook.

“Your friend...” he began, waiting as Pim began to cry again. “You came on the train from Copenhagen?”

Pim nodded slowly.

“What were you going to do here?”

“We were going on vacation...”

Henrik crossed one leg over the other.

“Yes,” he said. “We’re very sorry about what happened to your friend, and I don’t mean to make you upset but...we know that she had approximately fifty balls of heroin in her body, and we assume that you...”

“Her eyes...” Pim interrupted. “Her pupils were so small, so terribly small. She said she wanted to sleep on the train, she wanted to sleep, and I couldn’t wake her up. She didn’t wake up.”

Pim’s body shook with sobs, making the IV tube swing.

Henrik waited a few minutes, giving her time to compose herself.

“What was your friend’s name?” he asked when she was breathing more calmly.

Pim hesitated for a moment, coughed and looked up.

“Siriporn.”

“Siriporn Chaiyen. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Pim answered.

“That’s what it said in her passport. But her passport wasn’t legitimate, so I think her name was something else, I think it was Noi. Am I right?”

He saw that Pim’s gaze wandered.

“She went by Noi.”

“And what was her real name?”

“Chaniporn,” she mumbled, moving her hands under the blanket.

“What was her last name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who provided you with the passports?”

“No one...”

Jana looked like she wanted to ask a question but stopped herself.

“Because your friend’s passport was fake, it is probably best that we ask you again what your name is,” Henrik said.

“I told you,” Pim sniffled. “My name is Pimnapat, and I go by Pim.”

“And what name was written in your passport?” Henrik said, not giving up.

“That’s what it said. Pimnapat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”