The Corrector

by Ethan Jones

  He pushed hard on the side wound, trying in vain to stop the blood as it gushed from the wound.

  The Land Rover stopped near the truck, and Claudia rushed toward them.

  “Bring the kit,” Javin called out.

  She nodded and hurried back to the Land Rover.

  “Stay . . . hey, talk to me,” Javin said to Saif, who had closed his eyes.

  He did not reply. His breathing had gotten slower, his chest barely moving. Blood was still oozing from the wound.

  Javin pulled out his knife and cut Saif’s shirt. Bunching it, he pressed on the wound. The blood flow slowed down, the shirt soaking it up.

  “Saif, Saif, hey, stay, stay with me.”

  “Javin, Javin, I’ve got him now,” Claudia said. “Help me. Let’s get him down.”

  Javin nodded.

  They placed Saif on the sand next to the truck, and Claudia began to attend to Saif’s wound.

  Javin sat on the ground, placed his rifle next to him, and glanced at his bloodied hands. How . . . how did things go so wrong? We lost two men in a couple of minutes. Saif could die at any moment, and the gunmen aren’t far away.

  He cursed the fatal turn of events, wondering what else could go sideways.

  Then he looked up at Zeki pointing a pistol at Javin’s head.

  Chapter Thirty

  Three miles north of Deraa City

  Syria

  “Zeki, what are you doing?” Javin shouted.

  “What I should have done a long time ago,” Zeki shouted back.

  He stepped closer to Javin and was now about six, seven yards away.

  Claudia glanced up at Zeki. Her jaw almost dropped open, and she stopped working on Saif’s wound. “You . . . you’re the traitor.”

  “Well, aren’t you the smart one? Was it my gun that gave it away?” Zeki grinned and waved his pistol at Claudia.

  She cursed at him and got to her feet.

  “Stay back, or you’ll eat dirt.” Zeki pointed his pistol at her head. “I’m not joking.”

  “Why? Why would you betray us?” Javin asked.

  “Don’t . . . don’t touch that.” Zeki trained his pistol on Javin, whose hand was close to his rifle. “I won’t ask again.”

  “All right, all right. What pushed you to sell us out?”

  Zeki shook his head. “Sometimes you’re so naïve, Javin. It was money. A lot of money. The thumb drive is worth a lot to people who will kill for it or buy it. I chose the second.”

  “And you think they’ll let you live once you’ve handed it over?” Claudia asked. “You’re so pathetic. They’ll kill you and throw you away like the trash that you are.”

  “Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.” Zeki took another step and swung his pistol toward her.

  It was the moment Javin was waiting for.

  He lurched toward Zeki.

  But not fast enough.

  Zeki turned the pistol and fired a round.

  The bullet grazed the top of Javin’s left shoulder.

  The bullet did not stop him.

  His body slammed hard against Zeki, knocking him to the ground.

  The pistol went off again.

  Javin felt the bullet whiz next to his head. His ears began to ring, but he ignored it, along with the pain stabbing at his shoulder. He threw a punch that caught the left side of Zeki’s face.

  Zeki returned a weak blow, then pulled the trigger again. The pistol was pointed away from Javin’s body, so the bullet caused no harm. He struck Zeki’s face and felt something crack.

  Zeki screamed in pain as blood gushed from his broken nose. He hit Javin on the chin, then aimed for the agent’s ear.

  Javin had already gripped Zeki’s right hand, the one that was holding the pistol, and was turning it toward Zeki. The Turk struggled to stop him, but Javin’s arm was stronger. Zeki’s fist connected with Javin’s ear, then his chin again.

  The blows slowed him down, but did not stop him. Javin stayed on top of Zeki and gave the traitor’s arm a hard twist.

  The pistol was now pointing at Zeki’s side.

  Javin squeezed Zeki’s hand and, along with it, the pistol’s trigger.

  A round pierced Zeki’s chest.

  He gasped as blood shot out of his mouth. Then his body went limp, and his arms fell to his side.

  Javin sighed and tried to catch his breath.

  The Land Rover rushed away, barrelling toward Deraa City.

  “Ajaz is escaping,” Claudia shouted.

  “Zeki must have uncuffed him.”

  Javin swung around and picked up his rifle. He squeezed off a few rounds that hit the Land Rover’s rear window. The glass did not shatter, and the Land Rover kept going.

  “The flash drive. My rucksack. Everything’s in there,” Claudia cried.

  “We’ll get them back. And Ajaz will end up like him.” Javin pointed at Zeki’s dead body.

  Claudia shook her head. “Saif’s too weak. If we give chase in the truck, we’re going to kill him.”

  Javin frowned and cursed their situation. He gazed at the dust trail that the Land Rover was leaving behind. What do we do now? His eyes went to Saif’s bleeding body. Claudia was not even halfway done bandaging his wound.

  Before he could say anything, powerful headlights cut through the darkness. As soon as they fell upon the truck, a barrage erupted. Bullets kicked up sand around them.

  Javin slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle and returned fire. His bullets blew out one of the headlights. Others shattered the windshield.

  The barrage stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The SUV came to a rolling stop about seventy yards away.

  Javin glanced at Claudia. She was kneeling near their Toyota truck with her assault rifle pointed at the SUV. “Seems clear.”

  “Cover me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure they’re all dead.”

  “Got it.”

  Javin aimed his rifle at the SUV and advanced at a hurried, yet cautious pace. He kept his eyes glued to the back of the SUV, since Claudia was covering the front.

  Nothing moved.

  He gained a few more steps, then one of the rear doors opened. An unarmed man crawled out. His grayish robe was caked with blood from a large chest wound. The man raised his hands over his head and stopped moving. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” he cried in English in a loud wavering voice.

  “How many are you?” Javin shouted.

  “Three. The driver, he’s dead. The other wounded.”

  “Stay down. Down.”

  Javin approached the man and gave him a quick pat-down. He was indeed unarmed. “Stay there, and don’t move.”

  “No, no, but don’t kill me.”

  Javin walked slowly toward the SUV, approaching it from the driver’s side. When he was close enough, he saw the driver’s head leaning against the half-broken window. A neck and a head wound told Javin that the driver was long gone.

  Then Javin’s eyes went to the front passenger. He was a young man in his early teens. Considering his thin beard, he was not even thirteen—fourteen at the most. The boy’s left arm was twisted unnaturally near his shoulder. The right side of his face was scraped quite badly. His eyes were darting between Javin and the door, which seemed to be jammed.

  The look on the boy’s face reminded Javin of that of a trapped animal. He drew closer to the SUV, then said in Arabic, “Hands up.”

  The boy nodded his small head and raised his right hand. He tried to do the same with his left, but the arm did not respond. The boy winced, then shook his head. “It’s broken.”

  Javin opened the driver’s door and slowly pulled the gunman’s body to the ground. Then he called out at Claudia. “It’s clear.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the wounded man stretched a few feet away. He was not moving.

  Javin returned his eyes to the boy. “Your guns. Throw them out, but slowly.”

  The boy nodded.

  Javin kept
his rifle aligned with the boy’s head. If he made a stupid attempt, Javin would pull the trigger without hesitation. He would not kill an unarmed boy, but if the latter threatened Javin’s life, he was fair game.

  The boy slid his Kalashnikov assault rifle across the driver’s seat.

  Javin picked it up and tossed it to the ground. “Pistols, grenades. Give them to me. Slowly.”

  The boy winced, then grunted in pain. He removed a small pistol from his waistband and handed it to Javin.

  Claudia stepped close to Javin. He said, “I’ve got this one.”

  Claudia nodded and ran toward the wounded man.

  Javin shouted at the boy. “Now, get out.”

  “I . . . I can’t. My leg is broken.”

  Javin frowned. “How’s that possible?”

  The boy began to shrug, then winced again in pain. “A bullet ric . . . rico . . . hit my leg.”

  Javin nodded. The bullet must have ricocheted through the cabin. He did not want to waste more time, but he also did not want to yank the boy out of the SUV. And perhaps he could be useful as a source of intelligence. So Javin shrugged. “Stay there.”

  He looked at Claudia, who had just finished searching the man. She turned her head toward Javin and said, “Nothing of value.” Then she ran toward him.

  When she was close, Javin said, “I’ll take the SUV and find Ajaz. You’re okay to be on your own?”

  “Of course. I don’t expect more gunmen, but if there are, they’ll end up like him.” She pointed at the dead driver staring at the black sky with his empty eyes.

  Javin nodded.

  “And the boy?” Claudia asked.

  “He’s stuck there. Broken leg, probably. Don’t want to cause more injuries if we pull him out.”

  Claudia nodded. “I’ll finish up with Saif and find you.”

  “Rendezvous behind Omari Mosque on Al Wahda Street, if you don’t catch up to me.”

  Claudia nodded. The area was in the hands of government-backed militia, who were more likely to be friendly to her and Saif than in the southern neighborhood of Erkan’s safehouse.

  Javin tightened his grip around his rifle. “Be safe, Claudia.”

  “You too, Javin. See you in Deraa.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Three miles north of Deraa City

  Syria

  Javin stepped on the gas pedal. The Nissan SUV coughed, and went nowhere for a moment. Javin hit the gas again. The tires spun, and the SUV arrowed forward. “Hang on to something.”

  “Where are we going?” the boy asked in a low weary voice.

  “You’ll see. What’s your name?”

  “Rahim. Are you . . . will you kill me?”

  Javin shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If you do something stupid, like attack me or try to escape. If you do any of that, you deserve to die.”

  Rahim shook his head. “I . . . will not do any of that.”

  “Good. What group do you belong to?”

  “Free Southern Syria Army,” Rahim said in an almost solemn tone.

  “Isn’t Syria free?”

  Rahim snorted. “No, the new government is selling our oil to Russia and Iran. The new politicians are no better than the old ones. They only think of themselves, not of the people.”

  Javin nodded. “So what do you fight for?”

  “A new government, a better one, for the people.”

  Javin nodded again. It was a catchphrase he had heard over and over again. “For the people,” the wannabe politicians would say. Once they came to power, they made things better for themselves. I guess they are a part of the people.

  “And you? What are you doing here?” Rahim asked.

  “I’ve lost something. I need to get it back.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing of your concern.”

  Rahim shrugged, and winced in pain. He cursed the shooter, then bit his lip in mid-curse as he realized it had been Javin who had fired the fateful rounds.

  Javin held Rahim’s eyes for a moment. “We’ll get you all fixed up.”

  “It’s nothing.” Rahim clenched his teeth.

  Javin nodded. He liked the boy’s attitude. No complaints. Life had been rough for him, but he had grown up and survived more than Javin could imagine. Yeah, let’s hope we can save your arm and leg.

  He glanced through the glassless windshield, searching the terrain for the trail of dust the Land Rover would have left behind. Javin was skirting the northeastern part of the city. Small homes dotted large stretches of barren land. Where did he go?

  His eyes took in a few large buildings in the distance. A mosque’s minaret pierced the sky. Another structure looked like a school or perhaps a hospital. Maybe he entered the city.

  Javin glanced at Rahim. “Who controls this area?” he asked.

  According to CIS files, fierce fighting had taken place as recently as three days ago, but it was unclear who the winner was.

  A frown spread across Rahim’s face. “The Martyrs’ Legion.”

  Javin frowned as well. The name said it well. The Legion was one of the worst terrorist groups still operating in large swaths of Syria. If what Rahim was saying was true, Ajaz would not have turned into the city.

  So Javin drove toward the south, cutting through the scrublands. He stepped on the gas, and the SUV bounced over the uneven terrain. He jerked the wheel left and right, to avoid dips that could swallow the SUV. It had a broken headlight, and the other one was not very bright.

  When he came near an intersection with a narrow dirt road, Javin caught a glimpse of a dust plume on his right, perhaps less than a hundred yards away. He nodded to himself. That better be Ajaz.

  He swung the wheel. The SUV climbed over the irrigation ditch along the road. It became airborne for a moment, then came down hard on the road.

  Rahim shouted in pain.

  Javin bit his lip. Things were going to get worse for both of them. The real chase had just begun.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Outskirts of Deraa City

  Syria

  Javin’s foot remained firmly planted on the gas pedal. His left hand gripped the top of the steering wheel, and he only occasionally glanced at Rahim. Javin’s rifle sat across his lap, and his right hand was on the handle. He could hardly wait to fire the rifle.

  “Who’s in the car?” Rahim asked.

  Javin shook his head. “None of your concern.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “How? Fire at them?”

  Rahim grinned. “Yes, but you wouldn’t give me a gun.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Maybe I can find out things about them. Information.”

  “You have friends in high places?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  Javin cast a measuring glance at Rahim. You don’t look like you do.

  The SUV’s faint headlight was struggling to cut through both the darkness and the dust cloud. But the distance was getting shorter. Javin eased off the gas, in case Ajaz stopped suddenly. It was unlikely, but a useful tactic Javin had tried a few times with varying degrees of success. The tailing vehicle would crash into the rear of the vehicle it was chasing, which would largely remain intact, while the former’s engine would suffer considerable damage.

  “I know people,” Rahim said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, people of influence.”

  “From the Free Southern Syria Army?”

  “Yes, and people who run this city.”

  Javin shrugged. He’s trying hard to get out of this situation. “How?”

  Rahim hesitated for a moment. “My father. He’s . . . he’s a powerful man.”

  “Businessman?”

  “Yes. So, he’ll find—”

  “I don’t need your help, and I’m not looking for ransom money.”

  Rahim opened his mouth, but right then a bullet pinged against the hood of th
e SUV.

  Javin peered hard. Up ahead, there was something that resembled the front of the box-shaped Land Rover. And it was getting larger by the second. Is he . . . Yes, he’s coming toward me.

  Other bullets thumped against the SUV.

  Javin stepped on the gas and dropped his head to just above the steering wheel. “Get down, down,” he shouted at Rahim.

  He followed Javin’s order.

  Javin thought about returning fire, but the Land Rover was armored, and the SUV was not. It was difficult to drive and fire, especially since he was trying to stay in a straight line.

  “You’re going to swerve, right?” Rahim said.

  Javin ignored the question and gunned the engine. He looked over the steering wheel as bullets zipped over his head. The Land Rover was getting nearer. And nearer. It was probably about sixty yards away. Ajaz—or whoever was behind the wheel—was neither slowing down, nor swerving.

  “Turn, turn or you’ll kill us,” Rahim shouted.

  “If I turn, we’ll die,” Javin said.

  A new barrage battered the truck. A couple of bullets scraped the hood. Others must have struck the tires. They erupted, and the SUV sank.

  Javin flattened the gas pedal. No way out. No way out.

  “Turn, turn,” Rahim shouted, then reached for the wheel.

  Javin pushed Rahim’s hands away.

  Javin looked up, as the Land Rover’s driver began to yank the wheel.

  He had miscalculated by a split part of a second.

  The right corner of the SUV’s hood hit the side of the Land Rover.

  Javin was thrown against the steering wheel. The seatbelt kept him from flying out of the window. He covered his eyes and face with his hands as razor-sharp metal and plastic pieces rained over his head. A piece cut into his neck, and Javin felt blood trickling down.

  Rahim was thrown around in the cabin. He shouted and cursed in pain. His seatbelt held, and he remained in the SUV.

  The Land Rover suffered a much worse fate. The impact flipped it onto its side, then it rolled onto its roof. Because of its great speed, it rolled again and again, before landing on the roof.

  Javin fought the steering wheel to control the SUV. It spun around once, then again. He hit the brakes, and the SUV stopped.