Dan Breene and Lucille Carroll have heard buzz saws and the rumble of construction equipment up and down their block over the last three years. As older homes were bulldozed to make way for rows of identical townhomes, they expected their small eight-unit building would eventually change along with the rest of the neighborhood. Breene and Carroll pay $950 for their spacious, wood-paneled, top-floor apartment on the north slope of Queen Anne—complete with a fireplace and views of Fremont and the ship canal.

Last July, Breene and Carroll's eight-unit building was indeed sold to a developer—Tony Mai—whom, they say, began work on their building, converting it to condos, weeks before residents were officially notified.

With the short notice and, they say, mounting pressure from Mai, they began looking for a new place. They found one, for $1,200 a month, but it wouldn't be open until November. In the meantime, Breene and Carroll—two of the three tenants left in the building—say Mai notified them that crews will be coming into tear the walls out of their bedroom, do electrical work on their unit, and remove the stucco "skin" on the building's exterior. Breene and Carroll asked Mai to hold off on work in their unit until after they'd moved to their new place—also in Queen Anne—at the end of October. He said no. "We thought that if [our building] went condo, we'd have a lot more rights than we do," Carroll says. But they don't, and neither do the thousands of other Seattle residents at the mercy of the condo conversion boom.

Tenants have few rights: Developers must give tenants 90 days to vacate their units if they're on month to month or buy out their lease. Tenants are given first refusal, the "opportunity" to buy or pass on purchasing their unit—here a $950 dollar a month apartment turned $300,000-plus condo. Tenants who make less than $41,700—80 percent of Seattle's median income—are entitled to $500 in relocation assistance.

Breene and Carroll's situation is a microcosm of what's happening in Seattle. The Tenants Union and the Seattle Displacement Coalition say they've seen a steady increase in the number of calls from tenants frustrated with condo conversions, asking what rights they have in their own homes. "[The law] doesn't protect tenants from the noise or health effects that come along with living near construction," says Siobhan Ring, executive director of the Tenants Union. "The landlord has to... provide [tenants] with a safe and habitable environment, but that doesn't mean he can't do construction while they live there."

In the last four years, condo conversions in Seattle have skyrocketed. In 2006, 2,352 rental units were converted to condos, an exponential increase from the 430 units converted in 2004. The majority of units being converted are in Capitol Hill, Ballard, and Queen Anne, but it's happening everywhere. All told, Seattle has lost 5,829 apartments to condo conversion. According to John Fox, director of the Seattle Displacement Coalition, most of the units being demolished are affordable to those making between 50 and 60 percent of the median income. When those units are gutted and rebuilt, they sell, on average, for just under $300,000—a price affordable to those making over 120 percent of the median income.

In 2006, state legislation that would have potentially provided more relocation assistance, extended notice of conversions to 120 days, barred construction during the 120-day period, and allowed cities to cap condo conversions seemed like a no-brainer, but it didn't have the votes. Now, condo developers—limited only by the depth of their pockets—have gobbled up 3.5 percent of Seattle's rental housing market and there are no signs the boom is slowing.

Breene and Carroll assert their building hasn't been safe. They say they've encountered debris-filled stairwells and nail-gun belts strewn around the building's parking lot. Still, Breene and Carroll have to wait it out until their new apartment opens up. Breene, 52, who has multiple sclerosis and walks slowly with a cane, is on disability; Carroll temps at the University of Washington. Because of these financial and physical constraints, the couple says they've been forced to live in the middle of a construction zone. Although they claim to have tried repeatedly to negotiate with Mai—whom they say reneged on an offer to reduce their rent after Breene asked a Department of Labor and Industries inspector to come look at the building—their unit is still slated for renovations sometime next week.

There's not much Breene and Carroll can do. According to Alan Justad, spokesman for Seattle's Department of Planning and Development, the laws regarding tenants' rights to peace, quiet, and privacy are a "gray area." "We certainly have a code that requires that," Justad says. "But the developer has a right to develop reasonably when people are still in the building."

Mai did not return The Stranger's calls for comment, but Breene and Carroll say they intend to stick out the next six weeks in their apartment. They're hoping they'll get a reprieve from the construction—and a little peace and quiet. "Our [other] choices are to go camp out or stay on our friends' couches," Breene says. recommended

jonah@thestranger.com