Shadow Revelations (eBook)

A Novel of Action and Suspense

Harry G. Zegel (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
300 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-9998995-1-4 (ISBN)

Infos

At the age of eight, Dr. David Levi's life was changed forever when he lost his parents in a Tel Aviv bombing. Raised in the shadow of grief, he found purpose in becoming a physician and found strength and resilience through martial arts and Krav Maga. Later. Uri, his mentor and a Mossad agent, involved David in a global conspiracy that stretched from Philadelphia to New York, London, and Washington, D.C. The pursuit becomes a test of endurance, loyalty, and resolve as every step blurs the line between a healer and a fighter and between truth and deception. However, through it all, David has Romi Morgan, a gifted analyst whose ability to find order in chaos has revealed a terrifying truth-a truth that corporations, governments, and covert actors will kill to conceal. As terrorism's quiet menace lurks beneath the surface, David and Romi are swept into a chase where they can trust no one, and every move could be their last. Both gripping and intelligent, 'Shadow Revelations' is an action-suspense novel about loyalty, survival, and the price of exposing truths-that ruthless enemies will stop at nothing to protect.

H.G. Zegel, MD, is a diagnostic radiologist, former department chair at Main Line Health Systems, and a clinical professor of radiology at Thomas Jefferson Medical College. With widely published peer-reviewed articles and international lectures, Dr. Zegel brings a physician's precision to his action and suspense novels. Additionally, he has been trained in martial arts since childhood, and he currently holds a 2nd Dan black belt in Ukidokan Karate under Sensei Benny 'the jet' Urquidez. He has also received training in Judo, Tae Kwon Do, and Aikido. Dr. Zegel lives near Philadelphia with his wife, Nancy Sherwin, MD.

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For years, Dr. David Levi has been trying to bury the violence of his past. Raised in the shadow of grief, he found purpose in becoming a physician and found strength and resilience through martial arts and Krav Maga. However, despite his efforts to run from his past, shadows don't stay buried forever. So, when Uri, his mentor, a Mossad agent, involved David in a global conspiracy that stretched from Philadelphia to New York, London, and Washington, D.C., he was forced to call upon skills he hoped he'd never have to use. Romi Morgan, a gifted analyst who can see order where others see chaos, thrives in uncovering the truths that corporations, governments, and covert networks fight to keep hidden. When she stumbles upon an abstract pattern in her data transforms, she realizes she has made a chilling discovery one that puts her directly in the path of ruthless forces. Together, David and Romi are swept into a global chase that takes them from the quiet pulse of New York to the charged avenues of London, where enemies blend into the crowd and every ally could easily be a traitor. As the walls close in, David must reconcile with both the healer and the fighter within him, while Romi confronts just how far she's willing to go in a war fought in shadows. Both gripping and intelligent, "e;Shadow Revelations"e; is an action-suspense novel about loyalty, survival, and the price of exposing truths that ruthless enemies will stop at nothing to protect.

Textauszug

Chapter 4.
Krav Maga

By mid-summer, with calloused hands and sunburnt skin, David was physically stronger than ever. When he had the opportunity to train in Krav Maga, the renowned Israeli self-defense system, he eagerly jumped at it. Daily, after finishing his chores, he would catch a dusty bus to a nearby town where he would reconnect with Uri Barak.

From the moment David first stepped into Uri’s training hall, a no-frills warehouse gym, he sensed a stark difference from the tranquil space of his old dojo. Here, there was no polished wood floor, no alcove containing decorative calligraphy scrolls. Instead, fluorescent lights cast a harsh white glow on scuffed rubber mats. The walls were adorned not with poetic maxims, but with dented lockers and a few posters diagramming choke defenses and gun disarms. A faint smell of sweat, rubber, and metal hung in the air. It felt more like a fight gym than a school–– which was exactly the point. 

Uri emerged from his small office to greet the new group of students. David remembered him as a grizzled, broad-shouldered man with close-cropped gray hair. He hadn’t changed, and his eyes were startlingly alert––hawk-like, taking stock of each person in a glance.

“So, you want to learn Krav Maga?” he growled by way of introduction. His voice had the gravelly edge of someone who’d spent years barking orders. “Just know, this isn’t a sport, and I’m not your friendly Sensei. Cross me and I could be your worst enemy.”

“This is about survival. If you train here, you give 110% or you leave.” No bowing, no formalities––that was Uri’s opening speech, delivered as he paced in front of the line of nine students. They were a mix of a few locals, an American tourist, two European backpacker types, and an IDF soldier on leave.

David felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. This was exactly what he wanted: a crucible to test and broaden what he’d learned. Uri treated him the same as all the others, and possibly even harsher.

The training sessions were physically grueling and relentlessly practical. Warm-ups doubled as intense conditioning drills. Uri immediately had them doing sprawls, going to the ground on all fours. Then, immediately jumping back up.

Uri screamed, “One,” and they all dropped down. “Two,” and they jumped back up. These commands continued in increasingly rapid succession. By the count of forty, heavy breathing was all that could be heard.

They transitioned into sprinting in place and dropping to the floor again. After fifteen minutes, David’s heart was racing, and sweat poured down his face. It felt more like the climax of an extremely demanding workout rather than just the start. Uri walked among them shouting, “On the street, you won’t be fresh! Move, move, push yourself––faster!” When someone slowed, Uri would tug at their shirt or give a light slap on the back of their head to jar them into pushing past their limits. David was bent over, hands on his knees, leg and arm muscles burning and shaking. Others near him were on the verge of collapse.

This was a far cry from the measured pacing of karate class. Here, the philosophy was train tired, fight tired. Krav Maga, as Uri explained between drills, assumed you’d be attacked when you were least expecting it, maybe exhausted or off-balance, so you had to learn to respond even when your lungs burned and your muscles screamed.

The techniques themselves were brutally efficient. David’s first partnered exercise was learning to break out of a chokehold. His partner was a solid, muscular kibbutznik named Avi, who apologized softly before wrapping his thick arm around David’s neck from behind. “Enough talking, do it!” Uri barked.

Remembering Uri’s demonstration, David immediately dropped his weight, tucking his chin and snapping his hands up to trap Avi’s arm. They were slick with sweat, so grasping was difficult. In a single motion, he twisted his hips and slammed an elbow back into the attacker’s ribs. He didn’t actually hit Avi that hard, but the older student grunted appreciatively as David executed the move.

“Good. Again! Faster!” Uri ordered. They repeated it over and over, switching roles back and forth. “Better!” He screamed. Injecting some humor, he said, “Just remember, in a real fight you won’t have the luxury of switching roles every two minutes.”

When David played the attacker, he got a taste of his partner’s elbow thudding into the pad Uri made him hold against his chest. Even through padding, the force made him gasp.

“No love taps here. Hit harder, damn it…make it hurt,” Uri growled. By the end of that class, David’s forearms were bruised from blocking wild punches, his shins scraped from low kicks. Yet, he was exhilarated. This was a distillation of combat down to its rawest components: survive and neutralize the threat.

Uri’s no-nonsense instruction extended to mindset and philosophy, albeit a very different kind than Yamamoto-sensei’s. There were no lectures about honor or moral codes. Instead, during short water breaks, Uri would recount gritty real-life scenarios. “When I was with the IDF …,” he began one evening, almost offhandedly, causing everyone to listen in pin-drop silence. He described a situation where he had been unarmed and confronted by two attackers with knives in a foreign city.

“There’s no ceremony when someone jumps you in an alley,” he said in a low voice, eyes distant as if replaying it. “I used what I had––a glass bottle at my feet. I smashed it and went for the face and eyes. One went down screaming, the other ran. That’s survival.”

Uri surveyed the room. “I’ve seen more violence than you ever want to, and these techniques I’m teaching come from those unforgiving experiences.” He continued hammering home a few simple rules. “Aim for soft targets, the eyes, throat, groin, every time.” He looked at each of them. “There’s no fair fight. The only goal is to go home alive.” 

Such words were jarring, given that David was steeped in the ethics of martial arts. At first, a part of him rebelled inwardly. What about restraint? What about honor? However, as the training continued, he gained a deeper understanding of the context.

Krav Maga was born in a land of very real threats. Uri’s worldview, as he reminded them, was shaped by decades in covert ops. “In a life-or-death situation, you do whatever it takes.”

There was a grim wisdom in that philosophy that David couldn’t deny. It didn’t overwrite his principles from bushidō; rather, it added a stark layer of realism atop them. He began to see that both could coexist. He could hold personal honor dear, yet if cornered by danger, unleash all necessary force to protect himself or others.

One sweltering session, Uri set up a stress-fighting drill. They formed a circle around one person in the middle. One by one, they would rush in as “attackers.” When David’s turn came to stand in the center, he glanced around at the ring of classmates, gloves on their hands and determination in their eyes.

“Ready…fight!” Uri barked.

The first attacker lunged, a tall man feigning a choke from the front. David reacted automatically now. Grab the wrist, strike the throat. He stopped short of actually hitting the throat, but made it convincing.

No sooner had the first backed off than the next attacker came. This time from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug. David stomped down with his heel and hammered backward with his elbow, remembering to twist out of the grip.

“Turn!” Uri shouted. Next!”

As David spun around, a third man shoved him hard from the side. He stumbled, caught himself, and snapped a flurry of punches at the padded helmet the “attacker” wore. His knuckles burned against the rigid plastic, a sharp sting with every hit. There was no time to think. He kept driving forward, breathing hard, eyes locked on the target.

By the time the drill ended, David was panting, sweat stinging his eyes, a bruise forming on his left cheek where a punch had snuck through. His ears rang, partly from exertion, partly from Uri’s constant shouting to push harder. When Uri clapped him on the shoulder and gruffly said, “Not bad, kid,” a swell of pride filled David greater than any he’d felt breaking boards or winning a sparring match back home. He had been truly tested in chaos and had held his own.

Practicing defenses in low-light conditions, simulated night attacks. One evening, Uri turned off most of the lights in the warehouse, plunging the space into dim shadows. He had pairs fight using plastic knives.. Red lipstick on the blade edge to simulate a cut and leave visual proof of who had prevailed. The darkness was disorienting. David and his partner stumbled and crashed into others as each tried to apply what they’d learned, often devolving into messy scrambles on the ground.

“Find leverage, control the hand holding the weapon,” Uri repeated, kneeling next to tussling pairs and correcting their positions. More than once, David found himself instinctively using judo moves from his dojo days––a shoulder throw here, a joint lock there––to subdue his partner during...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 8.10.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-9998995-1-4 / 9798999899514