A night flight this time, but night and day hardly existed in the back end of the surveillance jet. No windows, just computers and monitoring gear. Gold imagined Parson found a much better view up front in the cockpit jump seat. The plane had taken off into a clear Balkan night with a glittering canopy of stars. Cunningham sat in the back with Gold and Irena. All three wore headsets for monitoring the Rivet Joint’s channels. Thanks to information given up by Dušic’s secretary, Milica, they now monitored another specific cell phone. The mission reminded Gold of a jigsaw puzzle with tiny pieces. If you found where one piece fit, the picture took shape a bit more, and offered further clues to solve the rest of the puzzle. But so far tonight, nothing. Irena doodled on her notepad. Her console’s utility light cast a pale glow on the paper. She drew a picture of a seagull in flight, wings outstretched in a glide. She wrote characters in Cyrillic, which Gold could not decipher.
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