The Corrector

by Ethan Jones

  He glanced to his left. A couple of gunmen were firing at the truck from a narrow alley. Javin then looked up ahead again. Yes, along the mosque. That’s our way out.

  He jerked the wheel. The heavy cement truck took a moment to change direction. Bullets battered the side and the back. A few shattered the mirror, but thankfully, none of them struck Javin or Claudia.

  Javin looked at her for a quick moment. Claudia’s breathing had turned shallow. She was losing a lot of blood, and her face was pale.

  He cursed the shooter and stepped on the gas. A small sedan was parked on the side of the narrow alley. The truck slammed into it and tossed it to the side as if it were a toy car.

  The alley curved to the right, so Javin turned the wheel. But before he had rounded the corner, the truck shook violently. Javin almost lost control of the vehicle. He wondered what had hit them. An RPG or missile, probably.

  A moment later, a heavy thud came from the back. The truck shook again. Javin looked over his shoulder as the mixing drum became detached from the truck and rolled off to one side. Well, we didn’t really need it.

  He turned right and kept his foot on the gas. A gunman appeared in the middle of the alley. He sprayed a quick barrage that clobbered the hood and broke off whatever glass remained in the windshield.

  Javin dropped his head and flattened the gas pedal. The truck barreled forward and plowed into the gunman, running him over.

  Javin then stepped on the brakes as they came to another turn. They were now on the other side of the mosque. If he went to the right, the road would take him to Deraa. But that was not their destination.

  So he turned left.

  Gunfire erupted behind them, but no bullets thumped against the truck. Maybe it’s all over. We still have the flash drive, and maybe it is over.

  He sighed and glanced at Claudia. She gave him a small tired smile. “Javin?”

  “Yes, I’m here. You’ll be fine, Claudia.”

  “I know, but if I don’t—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “If I don’t, it’s been a good ride.”

  “Claudia, you’ll be okay. Once we’re over the border, we’ll get you all fixed up.”

  Claudia smiled again and closed her eyes.

  Javin drew in a deep breath. He stomped on the gas and headed toward the border with Jordan. I should give Muath a call. Very short notice, but he owes me a favor. Javin nodded, knowing he could count on Muath, one of the best field operatives of GID, the Jordanian General Intelligence Directorate.

  Javin reached for his phone and dialed Muath’s number.

  Chapter Forty

  Ramtha Hospital, Ramtha

  Jordan

  Javin heaved a deep sigh of impatience. This was the third doctor who had shrugged him away, promising that someone was going to talk to him soon with news about Claudia. But it had been two hours since she had entered the operating room. Muath had sworn the surgeon was the best in the hospital. Javin did not doubt that, but he still feared for Claudia. She had lost consciousness soon after arriving at the hospital. He had stopped her bleeding, but not soon enough.

  Javin shook his head and glanced at the white door of the operating room. He drew in a deep breath, and the chemical smell filled his nostrils. He leaned on the metal crutches and began to pace the hall. The doctor had advised him not to overexert himself. But he could not lie in his bed, not knowing the fate of his partner.

  He took in another deep breath and felt a searing pain in his chest. The X-rays had showed the bullet had bruised a rib, but it was not broken or fractured. His body hurt a lot, regardless of the painkillers the nurses had administered. The medications had mostly dulled his mind. He felt foggy-brained, so he paced toward the end of the hall, near the nurses’ station. Perhaps I can get a cup of coffee. I’m no good if I can’t think or I fall asleep.

  He had barely taken four painful steps, when the operating room door opened with the now-familiar creak. Javin turned on his crutches. A young man stepped out and hastened in Javin’s direction. The doctor tried to skirt Javin, but he stepped in front of the doctor. “How’s Claudia doing?”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go to—”

  “This will only take a moment.”

  The doctor shook his head and tried to sidestep Javin, but he lifted one of the crutches and blocked the doctor’s path. “I insist.”

  The doctor cocked his head and sighed. “Fine. The patient’s okay. Happy now?”

  “No, what’s the prognosis?”

  The doctor shrugged. “Well, we’ve removed the bullet, and none of the main arteries were severed. She’s not going to lose her arm or become paralyzed, as her spinal cord isn’t severed, sheared, or even damaged. Recovery time . . . if there are no infections or complications, a few weeks, four at the minimum, but it’s hard to tell.”

  Javin nodded. “That’s good news, right?

  “Yeah, very good. She could have been in much worse condition. I’ve seen cases when people have died because of minor wounds.”

  Javin nodded again. “Yes, and so have I. Now, when can I see her?”

  “She’s still under anesthesia. You can see her in perhaps half an hour, when she’s moved to another room. We’ll keep her under observation for the next forty-eight hours, at least. Now, I’ve got to go.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate it.”

  The doctor nodded and sped away.

  Javin sighed and thought about the pain Claudia must be going through. And here I thought she betrayed us. Or she wasn’t ready to almost die for our country. I’m such a fool. He shook his head. I’ve got to talk to her. Come clean. But not right now. She has to recover, and I’ve got to talk to Martin.

  He hobbled in the other direction, trying to find a quiet, private area. When he came near the elevators, he remembered he had seen a visitors’ lounge on the first floor. So he pushed the button and waited.

  When the elevator doors opened with a ping, Muath stepped out. His eyes met Javin’s. “Hey, Javin. I was looking for you. You should be in bed.”

  “Yeah, I should do many things. What do you need?”

  Muath brushed back his gel-slicked wavy hair. “I . . . let’s find a quiet place.”

  “There’s a hall area for visitors down—”

  “No, that’s not going to work. This way.” Muath pointed in the direction from where Javin had come.

  “I didn’t see anything there.”

  “You didn’t look very well.”

  Javin strived to keep up with Muath’s pace. When they came to a door with a red sticker that read in both Arabic and English “For hospital staff ONLY,” Muath tried the handle. The door was locked, but that did not deter him. Muath produced a set of keys and tried one of them, which opened the door.

  Javin said, “How . . . why do you have—”

  Muath shrugged. “For situations like this. After you.”

  Javin entered the room; it looked like a doctors’ lounge. It had six brown leather couches, a large television screen mounted on the wall, and a small corner kitchen. “Want some coffee?” Javin hobbled toward the coffee machine.

  “Sure. Black and strong.”

  “Got it. Now what’s up?”

  Muath locked the door behind them. He rubbed his chin, then stepped closer to Javin. “What were you doing in Syria?”

  “I already told you; running an op that went sideways. With jihadists on our back, we needed an exit point.”

  Muath nodded. “Right, but you left out a few details.”

  “True, the irrelevant ones.”

  “We’re hearing some interesting chatter, Javin. It’s about SAS helicopters and elite troops operating in Deraa. Along with MIT’s involvement after a series of Istanbul incidents.”

  Javin frowned and turned around to pour water into the machine. So those trained operatives were British Special Air Service? Makes sense, if Fox was involved in dispatching them. He sighed, then said, “First time I’ve heard SAS mentioned. W
hat about them?”

  “I thought you could tell me.”

  Javin turned around and shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

  “Really? After everything we’ve been through?”

  Javin shrugged. “I don’t want to lie to you, Muath. Many things are quite unclear, even to me.”

  “Anything you know for certain?”

  “Yeah, some very bad people were going to kill us if you hadn’t intervened. I owe you my life.”

  Muath shook his head. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. But remember that when I come for a favor.”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  “Anything else you can tell me, something concrete, useful?”

  Javin thought about it for a moment. “Coffee’s almost ready?”

  “Don’t be a smart—”

  “All right, all right. I can give you a heads-up of what you’ll learn pretty soon. It involves an oil pipeline deal cutting across Syria, Iraq, and Turkey.”

  Muath nodded. “Explains the MIT’s involvement. And I’m assuming it connects to Britain, correct?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  Muath waited for a moment, but Javin just held Muath’s eye. So he cocked his head and said, “That’s it?”

  “For now. I’m not at liberty to discuss other—”

  Muath waived his hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard the speech before.”

  “It’s similar to the one you’ve given me many a time.”

  “I have, yes.”

  Javin reached for the coffee pot, but his weak arm failed him. The coffee pot clanked against the counter and almost spilled. Javin cursed the pot, then used both hands to fill his and Muath’s cups.

  “You’re okay?” Muath asked.

  “Yes, yes, just . . . my arm.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “Not to put too much weight on it. I guess two pounds is too much for now.”

  “Listen to the doctor, so you can get back in shape.”

  “I’ll try.” He handed Muath his coffee.

  Muath had just taken a sip when Javin’s phone rang. He realized it was Martin. “I’ve got to take this, in private.”

  “I have to go anyway. Get some sleep. I’ll come back in the afternoon.”

  “All right.”

  Muath pulled the door shut behind him.

  Javin picked up his phone and answered, “Yes, boss.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Ramtha Hospital, Ramtha

  Jordan

  “How’s Claudia?” Martin said in a hurried tone full of concern mixed with frustration.

  “She’s doing well, for the moment,” Javin replied.

  He went on to repeat the conversation he had had with the doctor a few minutes earlier. Then Javin told his boss about Muath’s claims that SAS had been operating around Deraa City.

  “How certain is he that these are SAS troops?” Martin asked in a dubious tone.

  “It’s just chatter at the moment, but he’ll check and let us know. Considering what Fox has been doing all along, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is another one of his attempts.”

  “We need to be careful before we make accusations.” Martin’s voice turned low and firm.

  Javin glanced at his phone. “Careful? Fox outright threatened me. He said he has people in place, and that we should look over our shoulder.”

  “Perhaps he was referring to Zeki.”

  “Yes, that dirty traitor. But if this elite force turns out to be SAS, their connection to Fox and his crooked scheme is clear.”

  “Javin, let’s not rush to conclusions.”

  “Right, no rush, sir. But were it not for MI6, we wouldn’t be here, and Claudia wouldn’t be lying there.”

  “I understand, Javin, but we need to establish the facts, before we draw conclusions.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I will talk to Fox as soon as we’re done. If you learn anything else from Muath or other sources, call me right away.”

  “I’ll do that, sir.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, nothing else.”

  “When are you flying out of Jordan?”

  “As soon as Claudia’s health allows it. The doctor didn’t mention any time frame. It could be as early as a week, ten days, depending on how her wounds heal.”

  “All right, Javin. Stay in Ramtha with her. We’ll dispatch someone from the Cyprus station to pick up the flash drive.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not sure yet. It will depend on who’s available.”

  Javin nodded. “Okay. Anything else?”

  “No, not at the moment. Send me the after-action report and update me on any changes in Claudia’s health. And, of course, in yours too.”

  “Will do.”

  “Good. You’re so close to coming home, Javin. A few more days.”

  “Can’t wait, sir.”

  Martin ended the call.

  Javin drew in a deep breath. If those people were SAS and sent by Fox, there will be hell to pay.

  He balled his hands into fists and clenched his teeth. He cursed Fox and the turn of events. He heaved a sigh, then stood up and headed toward Claudia’s operating room.

  The door was still closed. Javin glanced at his wristwatch. It had been maybe fifteen minutes since he talked to the doctor about Claudia’s condition. But Javin did not want to wait.

  So he knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, harder. Again, no answer. He tried the handle, but the door was locked.

  Javin sighed. Before he knocked again, he saw a nurse walking toward him. “Excuse me, do you know where this patient is?”

  The nurse nodded. “Yes, they finished with her, and she was moved downstairs.”

  “What room?”

  The nurse shrugged. “Not sure.”

  “No worries. I’ll find her. Thanks.”

  When he came out of the elevator on the first floor, Javin headed to the nurses’ station and inquired about Claudia. One of the nurses directed him toward the left wing, third door to his right.

  Javin opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake Claudia up. The door made a low creak, which to Javin sounded awfully loud. He glanced inside the small room. Claudia was lying on the only bed in the room. Her eyes were closed, and her pale face was turned to the left, facing Javin. Oxygen tubing ran into her nose, and she was hooked to an IV machine and a heart monitoring device. Both machines were making their constant, low beeps, announcing that everything was in order.

  Javin shook his head. Nothing is in order.

  He stepped closer and peered at Claudia. This . . . this shouldn’t have happened.

  Javin picked up the only chair in the room and placed it across from the bed. He sat there and gazed at her. A few of Claudia’s hair strands had fallen on her face. Javin wanted to brush them to the side, but he feared he would wake her up. She needs all the rest she can get.

  He looked at her for a few minutes, then stifled a yawn. He had forgotten his coffee in the room upstairs where he had talked to Muath. He shrugged and sat up in the chair. But soon he slumped back and fell asleep.

  * * *

  Javin was not sure how long he had slept, but his mouth was dry. He blinked then rubbed his eyes to clear off the sleep. He yawned, then stretched his neck and his arms. Javin’s eyes fell on Claudia, who had turned onto her other side.

  He glanced at his watch. Almost eight. I hope today will be a quiet day.

  He sighed and sat up. The chair squeaked as it slid a couple of inches across the floor. Javin bit his lip as Claudia rolled toward him. She gave him a small, faint smile, then said in a low voice, “Hello, sleeping beauty.”

  Javin returned the smile. “I was going to say the same thing. How are you?”

  Claudia let out a muffled groan. “Eh, I don’t know. My entire body aches. And you?”

  Javin shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”

  “It was tough, Javin, but we got through it.”

&n
bsp; “We did, yeah.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Ramtha, northwest Jordan.”

  “How long have we been here?”

  “We came in last night—well, early this morning. So a few hours.”

  “What did they say?”

  “You should be fine, barring any complications.”

  “When are we going home?”

  Javin smiled. “When you get better.”

  “I already feel better.”

  “You just said you’re in pain.”

  “Nothing a few painkillers can’t fix.”

  “We have to wait until the doctor says you’re better.”

  Claudia gave him a curious glance. “Since when are you being a stickler for the rules?”

  “I’m not, but this is serious. It’s about your health.”

  “Shouldn’t I be making that decision?”

  “You should, but I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  Claudia smiled. “I do, for now. But I reserve the right to change my mind.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Claudia let out a small cough. “My throat is so dry, Javin. Can you get me some water?”

  “Sure.”

  He stepped outside the room and returned a minute later with a couple of glasses.

  Claudia said, “Please crank up my bed, would you?”

  “Of course.”

  Javin fiddled with the bed levers, then placed the pillow behind Claudia’s back. She tried to hide her grimace, but Javin noticed it. He bit his tongue and looked away. When Claudia was ready, he placed the glass into her hands. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Javin waited until Claudia had drunk half the glass, then said, “I talked to Muath, and he gave me some troubling news.”

  Claudia frowned. “What is it?”

  “The elite team that attacked us outside Deraa might be SAS.”

  “What?” Claudia’s hand shook, and she almost spilled her glass.

  “Yeah. It’s still unconfirmed, but Muath is looking into it. And so is Martin.”

  “You called him?”