Impossible Odds

worried. And I’m here with Mohammed now, I’m sitting next to him, and I want to confirm that Mohammed is our representative.”
    “Yes, from the family,” Poul prompts him. “Don’t mention any organization.”
    But now I can tell Erik thinks Poul is one of the kidnappers. He’s not talking to Poul as if he knows him.
    “Well, there’s no organization to mention.” Erik changes course so smoothly, even I barely notice. “It’s just our families.”
    “That’s fine. That’s fine,” Poul says. “I just wanted to tell you those two things.”
    “I’m very happy to hear that, and I hope that this will continue and that we can get Jessica out as quick as possible.”
    “Yes.”
    “Because we need to have her back . . . okay ?”
    “We need to have both back, I hope,” Poul responds, sounding hurt. I don’t think he realizes he’s never identified himself.
    “Yeah, of course! Is it Poul I’m talking with?”
    “Yes.”
    “I didn’t hear it was you, Poul. But of course we want both of you back!”
    “Okay, but I am telling you these two things. She is stronger than you may think. And two, nobody has touched her. Nobody has harmed her.”
    “Very good, Poul. And you have to keep on being as strong as her.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you can be assured that we are doing everything we—”
    “Oh, I’m out. I’m out,” Poul says, just before I pull the phone from his hands.
    “Erik?” I begin.
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. The leader of the militia is coming.”
    “Okay . . .”
    “So that he can hear what you’re saying.”
    “Yeah . . .”
    “Um, before he comes, I just want you to know I love you.”
    That one nearly gets him. I hear a heavy catch in his voice. “I love you, too.”
    “And I will get through this.”
    “Good, Jess,” he says, but his voice is flat. He’s obviously in a room full of people.
    “You know . . .” he continues. “You know . . . before you say anything else, I just want you to know I am doing okay. Your family, they’re all doing okay. We’re all doing okay. We’re just trying to solve this in the quickest manner we can. We’re doing everything we can. Everything.”
    “Okay.”
    “So you just have to believe me when I’m saying to keep faith. And we, the whole family, we’re praying, nonstop. We’re doing everything we can.”
    My lifelong spiritual skeptic husband is praying right along with my family. Wonder of wonders. “Okay,” I softly tell him.
    “. . . To get you out.”
    “Okay. Um, is the family there, any of them?”
    “. . . No. No. But we are in contact. And they’re doing just fine, Jess. They’re all together, where they are.”
    What did he just say? They’re all together, where they are? My dad now lives in Virginia, my sister in Pennsylvania, and my brother in Tennessee. Erik’s family lives in Sweden. What’s he trying to say?
    “Okay then.”
    Erik’s voice takes on his negotiating tone. “But no one will be able to get in touch with us, any of the family, Jess . . .”
    “I know,” I tell him. And I do know, now. As of about two minutes ago, I completely get it about not talking to loved ones on these calls. It’s a form of psychological torture that I’m certain would eventually break anybody who’s got a working set of emotions. But Erik’s warning is clear. There’ll be no more family calls; we have to win at this.
    “But, Erik,” I add, “they need to understand, the leader here—he’s insane.”
    “Oh, yeah. We understand that. But, ah, is the communicator for your side around? Jabreel? Or someone?”
    “Yes, the leader is coming. Here he comes now. They’re going to put you on speaker phone.”
    Abdi stumbles over to us still half asleep, face hanging forward, eyes puffy and nearly shut, chewing one of last night’s leftover khat stems. He chews and drools and listens while Jabreel steps close to me and I put the phone in speaker mode.
    •  •  •
    Erik made the call to Jessica while painfully aware it might be the last time they ever spoke. Still, there was nothing to do but try toexchange a few pieces of vital information as quickly as possible. Now while the kidnappers’ leader came to listen in, there were no good choices. The only option was to stall while justifying that stalling to the kidnappers, hoping to get them to come back to earth with their ransom demands before the victims’ health was broken.
    The sound of Jessica’s voice made him want to pour