The Da Vinci (planning and roads, subsection 2:a) Code

A dark office. Rain spatters the windowpane, glinting in the orange light of a solitary streetlamp. The figure behind the desk is still, smoke curling up from the cigarette between his fingers to surround 40 watts of dim lightbulb hanging from a frayed flex. The phone shrieks...
"Yes?"
"We've found her." The figure straightens, leaning into the receiver, grabbing for a chewed biro.
"Tell me!"
"She's living on Woodstock Road, in Oxford."
"I'll have someone dispatched immediately. Go with God, Falcon."
"God be with you, Eagle."
The man allows a smear of satisfaction to cross his face, before reaching again for the telephone, and pressing a button marked "repairs".
The chase has ended, but for the woman who is his target, the horror is about to begin...

I swear this is what happens in Council Offices around the country. They find out where I live, and then they send men with unfeasibly noisy machines to do roadworks or dig up water mains right outside my window while I'm trying to study. It's getting to be beyond a joke.