Free Splinter Cell (2004) by Tom - Splinter Cell 0 Clancy Page B

and red, and from Rivka’s rooftop it looked like something out of a movie. It’s beautiful here.”
    “And her parents are there with you?”
    “Uh-huh. Her mom and dad are real nice.”
    “That’s great to hear. Listen, honey, I have to go out of the country tonight, too. It’s for work.”
    “Again? Didn’t you just get back?”
    I sigh. “Yeah. But you know how it is.”
    There was a bit of the old frustration in her voice. “No, I don’t know how it is. You’re so secretive about what you do. Where are you going this time?”
    “I’m . . . I’m going to the Middle East, too. But don’t worry, I won’t be anywhere near you.”
    I hear Sarah talk to someone in the background and I distinctly hear a male laugh.
    “Sarah, who’s that with you?” I ask.
    “Huh? Oh, that’s Rivka.”
    “I thought I heard a boy.”
    “Oh, that’s Noel, Rivka’s boyfriend. He and Eli came over since we couldn’t sleep. They’re helping us party. You remember me telling you about Eli?”
    “Is he that music student you were dating at college?” I ask.
    “Yeah, that’s him. He’s back home in Israel this semester. So is Noel. He used to date Rivka. That’s how Eli and I met, remember?”
    I seem to recall hearing something about it last year. During Sarah’s sophomore year she dated a foreign student from Israel. Rivka, a foreign student herself, knew a whole group of them.
    “What’s Eli’s last name, hon?” I ask.
    “Horowitz. Eli Horowitz. He says he wants to meet you someday.” I hear a male laugh again in the background and Sarah giggles.
    “Well, I’d like to meet him, too,” I say. I try not to sound too much like a father. “Why isn’t Eli at school this year?”
    “Oh, his student visa expired and he didn’t renew it,” Sarah answers. “Same with Noel. There was some kind of stupid technicality with them.”
    I don’t know why, but I suddenly hear alarm bells in my head. Perhaps it’s because of all the circumspection that foreign students have been receiving since 9/11. Immigration has cracked down on student visas since then and is ferreting out undesirables.
    “Sarah, how much older is he than you?” I ask.
    “Dad, please. He’s just a couple of years older. Um, three.” She sounds annoyed.
    “Do his parents live there in Jerusalem?”
    “Dad, what is this? What’s with the third degree?”
    “Honey, it’s not a third degree,” I say, trying not to sound exasperated. “I just want to know who you’re hanging out with in a foreign country, that’s all. And Israel can be a dangerous place sometimes. You can’t be too careful. I’m your father, after all.”
    “But I’m also an adult, Dad.”
    “You’re not drinking age yet,” I counter.
    “Oh, gee, like I have seven more months to wait,” she says sarcastically.
    I almost point out that that is nearly a year, but I let it go. I don’t want the call to turn into one of our teenager vs. parent battles. Sarah and I went through some real knockdown drag-outs when she was in high school.
    “All I’m saying is that you should find out a little more about him and his family before you get more involved, that’s all,” I say. I know it sounds lame.
    “Dad, please. We dated for three months last year, but I guess you don’t remember that. I know him pretty well already.”
    “All right, all right, I’ll stop being a dad. Do you have plenty of money?”
    “Sure, Dad. Thanks.”
    “And you remember the phone number in case you need to reach me?”
    “I’ve got it memorized,” she answers. This is a special toll-free number that she can call from anywhere in the world whenever I’m on assignment. It actually goes to Third Echelon and is then transmitted as a text message to my OPSAT, wherever I happen to be. No one but Sarah and I know the number. I instructed her long ago on how to use it, but only if it’s an emergency situation. Anything trivial can wait until my return to Maryland.
    “So, when do you fly