They'd been working on this lead for weeks. A neighborhood and an address number, but no street name. It had been a long process of narrowing it down.
Bob was staked out across the street looking at a dark red door with solid brass numbering affixed to the stucco wall next to it. The windows were dark, just as they'd been three hours ago when he got there. It looked like a solid, respectable home in a nice neighborhood. Definitely not some shady spy den.
His in-ear radio came to life.
"They've just cleared the one on Park. An old lady and three cats. She's never even been out of the country."
"So it's mine?" he asked, though he knew the answer already.
"Yup. You've had a visual on it this whole time?"
"Sure did. No movement, no lights, no nothing. Looks empty."
"OK. The rest of the squad will be there within half an hour. We'll stake it out for a day or two and see if anyone turns up."
"Right. I'll be here."
But Bob knew exactly how fruitless that would be. What he hadn't told home base was that this was his home. His real home, the one they didn't know about, but somehow had found out was a location of interest.
He wondered where the leaked partial address had come from. Clearly not from a source that had connected it with him. At least he'd had time to clear out anything personal and hire in multiple professional cleaners. Chances of conclusive DNA evidence were slim and as long as he made sure he went in with the initial raid they wouldn't think twice if they found small amounts of his.
He shifted in his seat, prepared for a long wait outside his house.