Impossible Odds

up and called back through the American Embassy. There was a long wait for a pickup, but he soon breathed a sigh of relief when the guy calling himself “Matt” got back on the line.
    So Matt Espenshade was really with the FBI team handling this, and there was a small group of very good agents working together to gather intelligence on these kidnappers. With that much reassurance in place, it felt good to have a safe source of information.
    The unreal knowledge that the U.S. government was now actively tracking the pack of thugs who had taken Jess captive offered some immediate consolation, but with a little more time and thought he was left with the conclusion that he had no idea what the FBI could actually do about any of this.
    But he also realized his state of overload was so severe, he didn’t know what to make of anything. He only knew he had to stay firmly in a functional mode or he would lose control of his emotions and do something rash. He could already feel the rising urge to personally rush down to the spot where Jess had been taken and start tracking her down.
    Matt went on, “Now, Erik, listen to me—you can’t do anything proactive here.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You can’t try to insert yourself into this. Even the best-trained professionals find it extremely difficult to get these things to play out right. If we get family members involved, you can slow the process. Anything you do can be counterproductive to our goal of getting her back. Or you’ll get yourself captured and just ramp up the danger to everybody.”
    “Matt, I did counter-special ops in the military. I’ve got friends who’ll join me down here. It’s my responsibility to get her out. I’m her husband—and what if something happened to the soldiers who get sent in after her? I know Jess couldn’t live with that, and neither could I.”
    “It’s no better for you and your friends to die. You have to listen to me, Erik. Do nothing. I know it’s the last thing you want to hear. But do nothing. . . . Tell me you understand me, here.”
    “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Matt, I need to get her out of there!”
    “And I realize the helpless feeling is the worst part. It’s in your DNA to charge in and get her, especially if you have resources in the area. Not only that, I have to admit this part doesn’t get better over time. I know it sounds completely backward for you to stand down, Erik. It would to me. But you cannot insert yourself into this.”
    Erik felt the jaws of a vise tightening on his throat. “Matt, I just, I just want to tell you, I hope to God you guys really will get on this. We need the U.S. government behind us. How am I supposed to rely on the local authorities to rescue her? I know the ways of this region. They can’t even keep order in the streets. We both know the local authorities could be involved, themselves! How can you ask me to do nothing?”
    “Okay, here’s how I can ask: What you do is, ask yourself how it would be for Jessica—out there alone and surrounded by hostiles—if she heard you attempted a rescue and got yourselfkilled? What is she supposed to do then? Can you even imagine her despair?”
    The question sucked all the air out of the room. The call was quickly over.
    Within hours, the couple’s immediate family members began a series of calls back and forth among their own group, burning up the long-distance lines to help pull each other back from panic. They asked the same questions of one another without arriving at any answers. They learned hardly anything, but gained some measure of relief in being able to speak among themselves.
    Erik was especially grateful for the company of the other family members, even if just by phone, to keep him from buckling under the combination of primal fear and forced paralysis. He felt certain he couldn’t have kept the secret alone. So he got to work at closing down her social media sites. If they forced her to turn over the passwords, they could get all sorts of information and then use it to somehow strengthen their position. He knew of instances in which family members had been individually contacted by kidnappers and played off against one another to jack up the price.
    Erik greatly regretted in those hours that he knew so much about the sorts of medieval torments the male criminals of that broken culture might inflict upon his wife. Against that toxic knowledge he could only apply his own insights. In addition to