My granddad became suspicious of my activities after finding all of his doors, filing cabinets and briefcases unlocked. But instead of getting angry when he learned about my lock-picking, he was proud of me for becoming such a good lock-picker at such a young age. He explained to me that picking locks was a useful skill for a police detective, but it should never be used to break into private property illegally.
Over the years, my granddad had trained me to be an expert at lock-picking. I was proficient at opening all types of locks and could usually open them within two minutes. I knelt before the back door of Hickson warehouse. The door was solid and made of blue metal. I recognized its lock as an Iver brand lock, model number 1A-114. I knew from my memories of the lock and key catalogs that Iver locks were simple “pin and tumbler” locks. These were the easiest types of locks to pick, so I felt optimistic that I could open the door before I was disturbed.
I took a leather case out of my trench coat pocket. This case contained my granddad’s collection of lock-picking tools, which I’d inherited from him. I unrolled the leather case and looked over the 38 long, metal picks. I took out a thin piece of curved metal, called a “tension wrench,” and used it to apply pressure to the lock. I took out a pick with a squiggly tip, called a “snake pick,” and began to pick the lock. Most lock-pickers need to use a variety of picks, but I had developed a method of picking pin and tumbler locks with only a snake pick.
Picking a lock isn’t hard if you know what to do. I had to use my snake pick to poke inside the lock and push seven pins into the correct position, then the lock would open. I rubbed the snake pick against the pins and heard two of them move into the proper position. I needed to move five more pins into the proper place and then I could get inside Hickson warehouse.
I could hear a noise nearby. It made me nervous. The mysterious man had been a statue, but it had made me doubt myself and the accuracy of my equations. What if I had been wrong and someone was coming to disturb me, two minutes early? I couldn’t stop looking behind me. I didn’t see anything, but the noises were making me shake with anxiety and I kept looking nervously over my shoulder. The area around the back of Hickson warehouse was dark and smelly, with a lot of garbage on the ground. The only light came from a dirty, yellow lamp.
I heard the two pins in the lock move out of the correct place. I had not been concentrating on my lock-picking and now I needed to start again. Frustration was building up inside me, and it made my hands shake even more. Now, I had even less time to pick the lock. I looked at the clock on my wrist TV.
“One minute and twenty seconds left!” I said.
A loud noise made me drop my snake pick. The metal pick made a loud clatter as it hit the ground and I saw something moving behind me. I was seized by panic and screamed. I turned around and saw a black and white cat run from out of the garbage. I watched its white tail as it disappeared into the shadows. I was now so thoroughly nervous, I felt nauseous.
I picked up my snake pick and tried to resume picking the lock. My fingers kept shaking and it was hard for me to handle the pick. I kept missing the lock and hitting the metal beside it. Soon the lock was covered in small, shiny scratches.
“No!” I said. “Scratches! Now someone might realize I was picking the lock. A lock-picker should never leave scratches!”
I tried to wipe the scratches away with my fingers, but it didn’t work. I tried to wipe the scratches away with my coat’s sleeve, but it only left black stains on my sleeve. I looked at my dirtied sleeve and felt my heart pounding. It was easy to pick a lock in my granddad’s garage, but it was harder to pick a lock in stressful situations. I hadn’t expected to be so tense.
“I wish I would stop shaking!” I said.
I pushed the snake pick into the lock, but I must have pushed it in too hard, because it made a loud scraping sound and got stuck in the lock. I couldn’t remove it. This had never happened to me before and I panicked. My stomach was tight from tension and I felt like I’d be sick. I crawled over to the garbage and hid behind a garbage can, not sure if I would vomit.
“2, 3, 5, 7…” I said, remembering how much prime numbers helped me to relax.
I could smell sour milk and discarded coffee among the garbage and my knees were resting in something wet. But soon I had forgotten my uncomfortable surroundings. The crisp, indivisible images of the prime numbers formed in my mind, and I felt my stomach loosen and my hands stop shaking.
“11, 13, 17, 19…” I said.
I heard a sound and stopped counting. Someone was walking towards me. I looked at the clock on my wrist TV.
“My time’s done,” I said to myself. “Someone’s coming!”
I hid my face behind my hands and peeked between my fingers. A man in a gray trench coat was approaching from out of the shadows. He wore black sunglasses and a wide hat. But I was too terrified to notice any more details. He walked towards me with loud, confident steps and I was sure he’d push the garbage cans aside, find me cowering in the corner and do something horrible to me. He walked briskly, as if he had a purpose. In my horrified state, I was certain that purpose was to pull me out of my hiding place and punish me severely.
I closed my eyes and began to think of prime numbers again. I tried to forget about my situation, but it was hard for me to concentrate. Every moment, I expected to hear the sound of garbage cans being pushed over and feel the strong, ruthless fists of this mysterious stranger, pulling me from my hiding place. But after a few dozen prime numbers, nothing happened.
I opened my eyes and cautiously peeked out from behind the garbage can. The mysterious man was gone, and my snake pick was no longer jammed in the door’s lock. No one was around. I used my wrist TV to determine when I would next be disturbed. It told me that no one, except for me, would be in this back lane for the next 28 minutes and 15 seconds. I emerged from my smelly hiding place and examined the warehouse door.
It was partly open. A brick had been used to prop the door open. My snake pick had vanished. I was incredibly confused about why someone would come, take my snake pick and then leave the door open for me. But I felt lucky that I was able to get into the warehouse. I thought I had failed so badly that I would need to cancel the mission. I looked at the item on my checklist, “pick lock of the back door of Hickson warehouse.”
“I actually did pick the lock,” I said, “although I didn’t successfully open it. The stranger opened it. But I did pick it for a while. So, I think I can cross it off my checklist.”
I crossed it off, opened the back door as gently and silently as I could and entered Hickson warehouse.
Inside, the warehouse was large, with ceilings approximately three stories high and lined with big, bright lights. Everything was metal and glass and the sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the building. It smelled like burning electrical wires. I could hear people talking somewhere. This warehouse was obviously occupied, but I was not worried, because I had prepared for that possibility.
I went to a dark corner of the warehouse, which had a table and chair. I took a small box from my pocket. Inside the box were a few machines that Dr. Rozzozzo had invented for me. I had designed them specifically for this occasion and I was eager to discover if they worked.
“Trueman!”
I jumped from the shock of hearing my name. In a few moments I realized the voice was coming from my wrist.
“Trueman, are you there?” asked Nora.
I looked at my wrist TV and saw Nora’s face. She seemed to be somewhere very dark, because I could hardly see her. Only the blue light of the wrist TV’s screen illuminated her face.
“Yes, Nora,” I said. “I’m here. Is it 10:05 pm already?”
“Yeah, it is,” said Nora. “I made it into the building and I’m trying to get into apartment 5A, where your equation said the diamond-cutting crime occurred. How are you doing?”
“I’m about to use my TET,” I said.
“TET?” she asked.
“Yes, that??
?s what I call it,” I said. “A Triangulating Evidence Tracker. Dr. Rozzozzo made it for me. Using my new Ulam spiral equation, which can locate evidence, I made a device that can lead me to it. It actually points me in the correct direction. All I need to do is follow the arrows.”
“Oh, really?” she asked. “You’ve got a machine to lead you to the evidence? Shouldn’t I have one of those too?”
“Just wait, Nora,” I said. “Didn’t you read the checklist plan? When we are both inside the possible crime scenes, I use my TET to look for evidence of counterfeiting. If I find something, then we know that Malcolm and Eddie were counterfeiting, so that means they weren’t diamond-cutting. In that case, you can leave the apartment building. But if I find no evidence, that means Malcolm and Eddie were probably diamond-cutting. In that case I will use the TET to lead you to the evidence, which would be somewhere in the apartment building that you are currently inside. Do you understand the plan?”
“Yes, Trueman,” she said. “How did everything go, so far? Did you see anyone? You picked the lock okay?”
“Good, yes and yes,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“I answered your three questions,” I said. “I was able to successfully cross off three items on the list. I saw a mysterious man, but I was able to get into the warehouse on time. I am glad that so far our plan has been a success.”
“Wow!” she said. “You picked a lock in two minutes? I’m impressed, Trueman. I couldn’t do that to save my life! You’ll have to teach me that someday.”
“I’ll gladly teach you,” I said. “It’s not so hard.”
“You know, I’m really impressed with you, Trueman,” she said. “I’m sorry I ever worried you couldn’t handle this on your own. You definitely know how to take care of yourself.”
My face turned red from pleasure. Although Nora didn’t know about the many mistakes I had made, I was still proud and happy to impress her. Her kind encouragement made me feel confident again. I felt like an expert detective in the middle of a successful mission. I could hardly wait to start up my TET and find that evidence. I could imagine how much Nora and everyone else would be impressed when I located the evidence.
“Thank you, Nora,” I said. “Now, I should start using my TET and locate that evidence! Please write ‘receive call from Trueman at 10:15 pm’ onto your checklist.”
“Okay, Trueman!” said Nora. “Good luck! But I know you don’t need it. I know you’ll succeed. You and that great mind of yours will find the evidence, if there’s any there to find!”
“Thanks,” I said.
I started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” asked Nora.
“Oh,” I said, “I just thought of something funny. I said I should start ‘using my TET’ to find the evidence.”
“So?” she asked.
“Well, don’t you understand?” I asked. “TET sounds like the French word ‘tête,’ which means ‘head.’ So, it’s like I said that I should start ‘using my head’ to find the evidence!”
I laughed at the amusing language joke I’d created.
“Oh, yeah,” she said.
I couldn’t hear Nora laughing and so I looked at her face on the TV screen. It was too dark to see her expression clearly. I couldn’t decide if her face expressed amusement or annoyance. Before I could interpret her face, I heard voices.
“Something’s happening, Nora,” I said. “I must go!”
“Okay, Trueman,” she said. “Good luck! Call me if something bad happens. Like an emergency or something, okay?”
“Yes, bye,” I said.
I switched off my wrist TV and switched on my TET. It was approximately the size of an egg and fit perfectly into my palm. It was designed to lead me directly to the evidence, based on data I had previously inputted into it. A compass and an arrow appeared on the screen, pointing towards a metal staircase that led to the second floor. The voices that had disturbed me were getting louder, and it sounded like a pair of men were approaching my area of the warehouse. I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could towards the stairwell. Soon I was on a large, metal platform on the second floor. From this height, I could see everything that was happening in the warehouse.
About a dozen men were visible below, carrying heavy objects and dropping them into what looked like vats of boiling water. The smell like burning electrical wires was stronger here. It was accompanied by a pungent odor, which I couldn’t identify. The smell caused the image of a toilet to appear in my mind. I had once watched my granddad cleaning a toilet bowl with hydrochloric acid. This odor was similar to hydrochloric acid. Perhaps it was the smell of another type of mineral acid compound? Were they dissolving something in acid? I was curious, but I didn’t investigate.
I was on a mission for evidence, and I tried to concentrate on my immediate goal. The metal platform split into two paths. I had the choice of proceeding in two different directions. One direction went along the east wall of the warehouse and the other went over a bridge. This bridge spanned over the area where the men were working. To my horror, the arrow on my TET pointed towards the bridge. The evidence, if there was any, was located over that bridge. I would need to cross immediately over the working men and breathe in the fumes from their acid.
I sat down against the wall, and thought of a solution to this problem. If I had to cross that narrow bridge, I might be visible to the men below. I also might suffer from the effects of breathing acid fumes. I took my yellow scarf and wrapped it around my face. My sunglasses protected my eyes, so I was safe from acid. Now, I needed to think of a way to remain unseen.
Luckily, I had included my jerk magic equation into the TET. It automatically calculated the chances of my being seen, if I went in a particular direction, at any specific time. Right now, the TET said I had an 82 percent chance of being seen if I crossed the bridge. But it was changing every twenty seconds. Soon it said there was a 58 percent chance of being seen. I would sit and wait for it to say there was a 0 percent chance.
I sat against the wall, anticipating the percentage changes. Every time it seemed to go down, it would then go back up to a high percentage. I whispered the percentages aloud.
“50 percent… 21 percent… 26 percent… 32 percent… 90 percent.”
The corrugated metal beneath me was beginning to dig into my flesh and make me uncomfortable. My feet were getting numb from squatting for so long. The percentage did not go below 10 percent. I was starting to feel panic again.
“Hey!”
The loud, angry voice made me fall down to the floor and hide under my trench coat. I thought I had been discovered.
“Who left the back door open?”
I peeked out from under my trench coat and saw a thick, powerful-looking man walking among the men below. He was shouting and waving a heavy wrench at them.
“You idiots!” he said. “You want someone to just waltz in here and catch us doin’ this? Who did it? Huh? Someone better come forward and admit to this. Right now!”
All the men were silent and the angry man threw his wrench against the concrete floor. He seemed ready to kill someone.
“Well, if no one opened it, then some stranger might be inside!” said the man. “So, we’re all gonna have to stop what we’re doing and search this place. You understand what I’m saying? Go ahead, you idiots! I said, get searching!”
The men stopped working and started searching through the warehouse. I was horrified. Soon, someone would decide to search up here on this platform and I would be discovered! And the TET wasn’t giving me any good percentages! I felt trapped.
For a few moments, panic seized me and I wanted to call Nora and plead for help. But then I remembered the pride I felt when she expressed her confidence in me. She was certain I would succeed and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Please, TET!” I said. “Please give me a good percentage!”
As if the TET heard me and obeyed my command, a good percentage appeared on the TET
screen.
“Two percent chance of being seen!” I said.
I decided that was a safe percentage and started moving as fast as I could over the bridge. I bent low, so I wouldn’t be seen. But then I realized the TET made its predictions based on the assumption that I use a normal walking speed and posture. I stopped crouching and walked normally. I looked at my surroundings as I walked. Sometimes I saw men walking nearby. I felt the urge to run, but I resisted the temptation.
It seemed like a long time before I reached the opposite end of the bridge. As I stepped off the bridge, I felt incredibly relieved. Looking behind me, I could see that men were now climbing the stairs to the second floor platform. I had barely managed to escape being discovered. I realized the TET’s low percentage had probably come because most of the men had left the area under the bridge and gone separate ways.
I looked at my TET and saw the arrow pointing towards a large, metal door, behind me. I ran to the door, praying it wasn’t locked. I didn’t want to experience another failed lock-picking attempt. I sighed from relief when I discovered it was unlocked. I hastened to open the door and stepped through it.
I felt a blast of cool air and recognized the smell of the Hudson River. I was outside of Hickson warehouse, under a yellow lamp. I was standing on the top landing of a staircase that led down to the ground. The area below was surrounded by high, barbed-wire fence. There was industrial garbage everywhere and a few old cars. The arrow on my TET was pointing down towards the body of a wrecked 1967 Chevrolet Impala. The car looked like it hadn’t been operational for a very long time. A small circle on the directional arrow of the TET indicated the evidence was located in the ruined Impala car.
I heard my wrist TV make a crackling noise and looked to see the face of Nora on my wrist TV.