Shadow Revelations, page 1
Disclaimer
This novel is a work of fiction created solely for entertainment purposes. Names, characters, places, events, institutions, organizations, businesses, brand names, government entities, and public figures are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or to actual events, or to actual institutions, organizations, businesses, brand names, or government entities is purely coincidental. No identification with or endorsement, association, or sponsorship by any actual person, institution, organization, business, brand name, or government entity is intended nor should be inferred.
Depictions of violence, combat, espionage, crime, religion, politics, and other activities appearing in this novel are entirely fictional and dramatized and are not intended to depict or encourage real-world conduct. Any portrayal of unlawful, unsafe, or unethical behavior by any person, institution, organization, business, or government entity is presented solely as part of the fictional narrative and not intended to portray or defame any actual person, institution, organization, business, or government entity. Any cultural, ethnic, religious, or political references are fictionalized for storytelling purposes and not intended to portray or defame any actual person, institution, organization, business, or government entity.
This work contains references to medical procedures, tactical operations, weaponry, combat techniques, and other technical subject matters. Such descriptions are fictionalized and may be inaccurate, incomplete, outdated, or misleading and are not intended as factual commentary, professional advice, medical advice, instruction, or guidance and should not be relied upon, replicated, or reenacted. The author, publisher, distributors, and their affiliates expressly disclaim all responsibility and liability for any injury, loss, damage, or misunderstanding of any kind arising directly or indirectly from the content of this novel or from the use or misuse or interpretation of any information contained in this work.
This novel includes settings based on real geographic locations; however, such portrayals have been fictionalized for dramatic effect and should not be interpreted as factual or accurate representations.
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COPYRIGHT 2025 Harry Gershon Zegel
Published by Shadow Suspense Press LLC
First Edition
ISBN: 979-8-9998995-2-1 (paperback)
ISBN: 979-8-9998995-1-4 (e-book)
Dedication
For Nancy Marie Sherwin, M.D.
You are my wonderful wife, my truest inspiration, and my dearest friend.
This novel is dedicated to you, Nancy, with all my love and admiration. So much of Romi’s courage, warmth, wit, and resilience springs from your example. You are the steady light in my life, the partner who believes in me even when I doubt myself, and the heart that has given me more strength and hope than I could ever express on a page.
Thank you for your unwavering support, your patience, and your boundless kindness. I am deeply grateful to God, to walk through this world with you, and I am endlessly blessed to share this journey, and this story, by your side.
With all my love,
Harry
Contents
Chapter 1. The Beginning
Chapter 2. Foundation of Discipline
Chapter 3. A Summer in Israel
Chapter 4. Krav Maga
Chapter 5. Montgomery College
Chapter 6. Romi
Chapter 7. Medical School
Chapter 8. Training and a Test
Chapter 9. Radiology Residency and Beyond
Chapter 10. Old Adventures, New Departures
Chapter 11. New Hope
Chapter 12. Protests
Chapter 13. First Invitation
Chapter 14. After the Presentation
Chapter 15. Battle in Tower Hamlets
Chapter 16. Breakfast Debrief
Chapter 17. Back to New Hope
Chapter 18. We Need to Talk
Chapter 19. SkyHigh Lounge
Chapter 20. New York, New York
Chapter 21. Anatomy of a Fight
Chapter 22. Safe House
Chapter 23. Warrior’s Reflection
Chapter 24. Second London Conference
Chapter 25. London Preparation
Chapter 26. The Raid
Chapter 27. The Aftermath
Chapter 28. Paris
Chapter 29. Revelations
Chapter 30. The Southwest
Chapter 31. Scottsdale
Chapter 32. MMA Together
Chapter 33. VECTRAlytics
Chapter 34. The Gala
Chapter 35. Kessler, The Morning After
Chapter 36. Shadows in Washington
Chapter 37. Hospital Encounter
Chapter 38. The Doctor Becomes the Patient
Chapter 39. Decisions
Chapter 40. Odom / Uri
Chapter 41. D.C. Conference
Chapter 42. Culmination
Chapter 43. Shadow Revelations
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1.
The Beginning
David Levi heard a deafening roar. Glass shattered inward, scattering on the café floor around him, obliterating all other sounds, except for a high-pitched ringing in his ears. The scene erupted into chaos. Shouts, screams, a second explosion. The warm scent of his favorite chocolate rugelach vanished, replaced by acrid smoke and the coppery smell of blood. Heat slammed into him, and the world became bent metal, shattered chairs, and choking dust.
Eyes wide with shock and disbelief, his vision blurred, but through the haze, he glimpsed his parents’ faces. Cut, bloodied, with empty stares. His father had protectively thrown out an arm to shield him from the brunt of the explosion. It now lay heavy on David’s chest. Rachel’s small and delicate hand was frozen in mid-reach. Her fingers curled as if to touch him one last time. Darkness took him before grief could.
The Levis had once epitomized idealism. They had been renowned American physicians. Isaac, a trauma surgeon, and Rachel, an infectious disease specialist. Driven by their heritage and a profound sense of responsibility, they had moved to Israel when David was just five. Issac’s mantra had been clear: “Medicine is not just a calling; it’s our contribution to humanity’s survival.” Now, their contributions lay in smoldering ruins.
David awoke amid the rubble. “Momma,” he called through his tears, reaching for her. His eyes stung from the dust; his blood-soaked arms impaled by shards of flying glass. “Poppa,” he begged. “Make it stop.” His parents lay silent. “Imma. Abba.” He called again, shaking uncontrollably. “I’m cold.”
“Son.” A muffled voice got louder as rescue workers pulled him from beneath mounded rubble and debris. “Stay with us, son.” Strong arms enveloped him as he inhaled the stench of smoke and death, his head tucked into the rescue worker’s shoulder. “We’ve got you.”
“The bastards are at it again.” The emergency brigade spoke Hebrew. David caught the word terrorist, a word he was familiar with. He lifted his head for a final glimpse of the two most important people in his world.
In that single, harrowing moment, his childhood ended.
~
“Love alone won’t mend the fractures in his heart,” Miriam whispered to Uri Barak, as they sat in the quiet of Isaac and Rachel’s front room a few days later.
David crept away from the front window and sank into the worn brocade sofa where his mother had read to him. He tucked himself under his aunt’s arm. He shied away from the man with the gravelly voice, whom Miriam had introduced as his father’s closest friend.
“Mr. Barak trained with your father in the Israeli Defense Force,” Miriam said.
David eyed him warily. “Why haven’t I met him before?”
“Uri joined the government and worked overseas,” Miriam replied. “Always in motion, this one,” tilting her head in Uri’s direction. “But he stayed close to Isaac in ways that mattered.”
“I know you, Miriam,” Uri said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m taking him back to New York,” she said. She tousled David’s hair as he turned and looked up at her, a bewildered expression on his face. “There’s nothing for him here, now.”
“Except for his heritage,” Uri said quietly.
David searched each of their faces, attempting to determine what this meant. A knot tightened within his chest. He clutched his still bandaged hand as best he could around Miriam’s.
“He’ll never lose his roots,” Miriam said. “But I owe it to his parents to keep him safe.”
“In New York?” Uri said with a chuckle and a hint of disbelief.
“I’m leaving my post in the ER at Lenox Hill Hospital, and we’re going to New Hope outside of Philadelphia. It will be a new adventure.” She kissed David’s forehead, tightening her arm around him. “Won’t it?”
David mumbled a reply and clung tighter to her.
Uri shrugged.
“He needs the stability, and it’s time for me to return home,” Miriam said. “My visit to Tel Aviv c
~
As David settled into his new life, his academic brilliance became undeniable. Teachers marveled at his intellectual ability, quickly advancing him two grades. However, this academic success only widened the emotional chasm between David and his peers. He was smaller, quieter, and more introspective than his classmates. They weren’t tolerant of that kind of difference. Every insult, “Why are you so weird? You don’t belong here, nerd,” cut deep. Yet he never fought back. Instead, he internalized the pain, burying his humiliation. Maybe for David, New Hope wasn’t living up to its name.
“What are these?” Miriam would ask about the occasional bruise on his arms.
He shrugged her off.
“You fell again playing in the school yard?”
When he didn’t answer, she pressed harder with more questions. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” was the extent of his practiced response. Hadn’t his father always talked about survival and how important it was to be strong and never complain? David was determined to be the independent boy his father would be proud of.
~
One evening, a week after David had celebrated his tenth birthday, a simple lunch in the park with Miriam, the phone rang just after sunset.
“Hello,” he answered just as Miriam was returning to the living room from the kitchen.
“Young man, it’s Uri.”
David recognized the gravelly voice that had frightened him years ago.
He immediately handed the phone to his aunt.
“It’s that man.”
They spoke in a mix of Hebrew and English. David caught only pieces––his Hebrew was slipping. He strained to understand what they were saying. Miriam smiled at David and mouthed, “I will tell you later,” shooing him away. Unable to follow the conversation, he retreated to the hallway, awaiting the outcome of the call.
Miriam called David back to the room, and she nudged the phone toward him. David shook his head so hard it might fly off his neck.
“Say goodbye to Mr. Barak.”
“David eked out, “Goodbye, sir, thank you for calling.”
Miriam patted the sofa. “Sit.”
“Uri’s been keeping an eye on you,” she said. “Your father asked him to, just weeks before the bombing.”
David frowned. “He’s been watching me? That’s creepy.”
“He thinks it’s time for you to visit Israel this summer. To not be alone. To make new friends and connect with your ancestry.”
David’s voice rose. “I’m not alone. I have you. Don’t I?”
“You’ll always have me,” Miriam said.”
He squirmed on the sofa next to her. “So, he thinks a plane ride will fix everything?”
“No,” she said. “He thinks it might help you remember the life your parents wanted for you. They dreamed you’d grow up knowing where you came from, walking the streets they loved, meeting the people and the places they believed in. Israel was more than a home to them, David—it was part of who they were, and part of who you are. Uri believes seeing it again might help you feel that… and maybe see that you’re not just drifting. You come from something strong, something they wanted you to carry forward.”
David’s voice dropped. “What if I don’t want to go?”
“Then don’t. But maybe we don’t decide tonight.”
He looked down at the table. “You trust him?”
“With my life,” she said. “And your father did too.”
David didn’t reply. After a long pause, he muttered, “I’ll think about it,” and left the room.
~
David stayed quiet, but the quiet had changed. On good days, he began to ask about small things he had forgotten. What his parents laughed about? What did he have for breakfast? What the holidays looked like? Whom did he play with? He pictured a short visit, but not a new life. The thought of seeing Israel stopped feeling abstract. He began to imagine himself being there.
Unfortunately, less than a month later, Miriam told him that Uri had been reassigned. An intelligence matter in Europe had pulled him away. David nodded and said it was fine. He caught Miriam watching him, trying to gauge his level of disappointment. He kept his face even. Later, alone, he admitted to himself that he had wanted the momentum for the trip to continue.
He was better now than he had been, if only by a small amount. He still bristled when Miriam pressed too hard. He remained aloof on some days. Yet he still kept circling back with new questions about his parents and about Israel. The walls were not gone, but hairline cracks had opened and light was beginning to find its way through. The trip to Israel would wait. The desire, he knew now, would not.
Chapter 2.
Foundation of Discipline
David’s stoicism couldn’t shield him forever, nor could Miriam’s comfort. The bruises became harder to explain, the loneliness heavier to bear. After a particularly rough week, he discovered a flyer for Sensei Yamamoto’s dojo, which Miriam must have left on the kitchen table. Reading it, his eyes lingered on the promise of discipline, confidence, and self-defense. Something in him clicked. Miriam enrolled him as a present for his twelfth birthday.
At the beginning of each class at the dojo, David knelt in seiza with his fellow students, his hands on his thighs, joining them in silent meditation. At Sensei Yamamoto’s instruction, the class began every session in this way––ritual of stillness that was as important as any punch or kick. In these moments of breathing and mental focus, David felt the concerns he’d had about school or life melt away. He was in the moment.
After meditation came the rigorous routine that Sensei Yamamoto insisted upon. The dojo echoed with the rhythmic thuds of fists against leather punching pads and the crisp kiai shouts accompanying each precise strike.
“Keep your center! Lower stances!” Yamamoto-sensei called out as David and the others repeated basic kihon drills. They ran through endless sequences of blocks, strikes, and kicks in unison. The slap of bare feet on the wooden floor marked the tempo. David’s legs shook as he held a horse stance longer than he thought possible. Sweat beading on his brow––but he refused to straighten up early.
Discipline was the currency of respect here. Senior students moved among beginners to correct posture or offer a quiet ‘good’ when form improved. Initially, he was embarrassed by these admonitions. In time, he learned to accept them as part of the process. In this communal forge, individual ego meant little; what mattered was dedication to craft and mutual growth.
Yamamoto’s dojo was more than a place to train physically. It was a place where mental focus and true character were developed. During brief rest periods between sparring rounds, Sensei would share lessons on the principles of bushidō, the way of the warrior. David listened, breathing hard, as Yamamoto-sensei’s voice carried the weight of tradition.
“Rectitude––justice and honor in your decisions. Courage––the spirit to stand up in the face of fear,” the master would intone, pacing slowly in his black gi. David internalized these virtues one by one: benevolence, respect, honesty, honor, and loyalty.
At first, they were just foreign words and concepts, but over the months, he began to embody them. He bowed more mindfully to his partners. He took extra care when cleaning the dojo floor after class, treating it as a form of respect rather than a chore. The dojo kun (rules) posted on the wall—exhorting humility, compassion, and perseverance—began to guide him outside the dojo as well. When faced with everyday frustrations at school or home, he recalled Sensei’s mantra that “the true battle of the samurai is from within.” Over time, these virtues helped him respond with patience where, before, he might have reacted with anger and fear.
David thrived on strict discipline. It wasn’t always a smooth journey. He struggled at times with self-doubt, especially when learning an advanced kata or being effortlessly thrown by a smaller, more skilled student during judo practice.
One evening, after losing multiple sparring matches repeatedly to a less experienced student, he stayed late, wiping down the wooden floors, feeling the sting of inadequacy. Sensing his discouragement, Yamamoto-sensei approached and knelt beside him. In a gentle tone, he recounted how, as a young man, he too had once been impatient, expecting progress to come quickly.
