Redemption : Awakening by bhogg |
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In a previous chapter, Dax stumbles upon an attempted rape. Due to past training and discipline, he reacts in a way that rescues an 18 year old girl. In the process, he experiences a re-awakening of thoughts and memories. Dax literally staggered when he heard the girl's name. He thought of his own Lael many times, but actually hearing her name flooded him with memories. Being confronted with saving this girl, when he was unable to save his own daughter was almost more than he could bear. It was ten years prior when Dax's daughter, Lael, was abducted. She was grabbed by a Hezbollah splinter group. Their 'thing' wasn't kidnapping for money. What they wanted was to lure Dax out and kill him. It didn't work quite to plan. His wife Rachael heard the recording on their home phone and rushed out to adhere to their instructions. She was run off the road about one mile from their home. It wasn't a pretty scene. Rachael was an ex-Mossad agent. She took out one of the terrorists, and there were traces of vitreous fluid under her fingernails. She had most likely blinded, or partially blinded another. Hezbollah would have realized extreme political gain from seizing her alive, but probably in self defense, shot her. All her efforts were for naught anyhow. Lael had been killed immediately. These and other thoughts overwhelmed Dax. He remembered the first time he met Rachael in Israel. It was an inauspicious meeting. Within ten seconds of meeting him, Rachael was yelling. "So you are the big shot American Secret Service agent that I'm supposed to babysit! I've got many important things to be working on and now I'm stuck with you." Dax was on an exchange program. A Mossad agent of similar status was now in Washington, D.C., undergoing training there. Dax had to smile, knowing that his training counterpart would be working with Jeremy Dent, and would be realizing hell of his own. "What's so funny, big shot?" "Nothing really; I'm just wondering what sort of reception your guy is getting in Washington." One thing Dax knew for sure. Rachael was a whole lot better looking than Jeremy. In fact, as he looked at her, he was amazed. This beautiful Sabra was the daughter of a Mossad General, so certainly could have served on the sidelines somewhere. Instead, she was an experienced Mossad Agent. Her dossier indicated that she had been blooded. In their world, that meant she had killed people. So had he. Dax was a field agent, but not regular Secret Service. He was a member of a very specialized group called, Advanced Strategic Protective Services. Somehow, the acronym ASPS seemed to fit. Like the poisonous viper, this group could reach out and hurt you. Appropriate protection of dignitaries was normally static, but with this group, often involved elimination of the threat at the source. These services were often involved with the disruption of groups or individuals thought harmful. Many times, these disruptions were financial. It wasn't so bad being in a service officially headed by the U.S. Treasury. They had access to the best minds in the world on how to track and find money. Sometimes the disruptions were those done with extreme prejudice. Getting to the Secret Service wasn't easy for Dax. The primary service seems dominated by Ivy League, blue blood types. Neither of those fit Dax. He was first generation American. His father, Patrick Connor, was Black Irish. He immigrated to the United States and worked as a computer specialist. So unlike most Irish, Patrick was dark, both in complexion and in his eyes, which were closer to black than brown; no doubt a descendant from earlier migrations from the Iberian Peninsula. His mother was from the Peloponnese area of Greece. Her ancestors had definite influences from Arabs and Ottoman's. Dax got his name from her grandfather. He had always heard that he was a pirate. Dax was a mixture of both. His dark eyes, hair and complexion could have suggested a citizenship in many countries in Southern Europe or the Middle East. This had proven advantageous in many of his assignments. His training was intense. At first, there was no time for anything other than physical and tactical training. After a while, Dax and Rachael grew closer, much closer. They became lovers, and after a while, learned to love. Dax was thinking of some of the many wonderful times, when he was pulled out of his funk, by Lael shaking his shoulder. "Mr., Mr., are you okay?"
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bhogg
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