I pulled out a matte-black tactical vest and strapped it over my dark sweater.

I selected three micro-transmitters from the equipment tray.

They were the size of shirt buttons, painted to match the baseboards of my old home.

I also took a directional laser microphone and a set of titanium lockpicks.

The estate had a sophisticated security system, but I had designed it myself.

I knew the blind spots of the exterior motion sensors near the eastern garden terrace.

I slipped a suppressed 9mm pistol into my holster.

I didn’t want to use it tonight, but I couldn’t afford to be unprepared.

I pulled a black knit cap over my hair and checked my reflection in the dark glass of the locker.

My face was pale, but my eyes were steady.

This was my house.

Those were my halls.

I opened the rear door of the van, slipping out into the freezing Denver air.

The cold hit my face, clearing the tension from my mind.

I kept low, moving through the shadows of the tall pine trees that lined the perimeter of the property.