How To Pick Locks Novels & Stories

It was locked. Cursing under her breath, she pulled a slim set of lockpicks from a pouch on her belt—a skill Lester had patiently taught her. Her hands were steady as she inserted the tension wrench and the pick, her ears straining for any sound from inside or from the dwindling distraction out front. The world narrowed to the feel of the pins inside the lock. Click. Click. Click. With a final, satisfying scrape, the cylinder turned. She shoved the door open and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

"I wouldn't if you quickly tell me what to do. It's very important. I promise I'll tell you everything." She heaved a sigh. "Wait a minute. Put the phone closer to the lock. I need to know what kind of lock it is." I nervously did so, looking over my shoulders. "You can get in. Do you have two pins or something?" "I do." I loosened my hair, bringing out the pins. "I need you to listen carefully. Insert the pin into the top part of the keyhole. Carefully push the pin until it touches the back of the lock. Do you understand?"

he asks me. It's clear from his tone of voice that he's not being serious, but actually, I do know how to pick locks. It's a skill that's come in handy more than once. I pull out my hairpin. "Let me try." I kneel down and take a closer look at the lock. It's simple enough to pick, and it only takes a few minutes before it's open. "Good work," Gregory says, and I can hear the admiration in his voice.

I stood in the corner and waited for the right moment. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the watch on my wrist. “One more minute,” I thought to myself. Just then the office door opened and Beta Atlas walked out. I quickly dodged, making sure he didn't see me. Once he was gone, I moved swiftly and silently. As I got close to the door, I turned the doorknob, but it was locked. “Dammit, what was I expecting? Of course it would be locked.” I knelt, pulling the thin metal tool from my sleeve. A friend had once shown me how to pick simple locks years ago. The memory almost made me smile. And now it was coming in handy.

I wait breathlessly and then notice that two robots cannot reach with their protruding arms to place the device under the cars. “Shit,” I say out loud to no one in general. I need to get out of the car. I pull the pin from my hair and let my hair fall around my shoulders. I attempt to open the car lock with it, but it fails. I quickly pull a bobby pin from my bag and bend it into a lock-picking tool. As I attempt to pick the lock, I hear a commotion outside. Someone’s shouting, followed by the sound of men running out.

It’s still locked. As I’m about to walk away, I suddenly remember a lesson that Cayden once taught me on picking locks. He used a hair pin. I reach up and pull one of my hair pins out, stick my sandwich in my mouth so that my hands are free, and crouch down to the lock. Thankfully, Cayden’s lesson stuck in my mind because the lock clicks and the door swings open after just a few seconds of trying. A cold gust of wind blows out of the room and into my face. It smells musty, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

I didn’t know why, but for some reason, I felt a strange sense of familiarity as I looked at the keyhole. My intuition told me that I would be able to open the lock. I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to try. I detached a ring-shaped pin from the mask I was wearing and straightened it, converting it into a thin long iron wire. After I slowly inserted it into the keyhole, I followed my tactile sensation and turned it. A miracle then happened I really opened the lock. I felt incredible when I saw this. When did I learn to pick locks? Why didn’t I know this fact about myself? Who had taught me this sneaky skill? I felt a migraine coming on as my memory seemed to blur a little.

I don't know about other people, but I wouldn't put a padlock on a kitchen cupboard. "Pick it" Morgan says from behind me knowing what I wanted to do, I put my hand out where a lock picking set was placed in it. I open the kit and set to work picking the lock, in seconds the lock was well unlocked and I was able to open the cupboard. I place the kit and lock down while opening the cupboard, to say I was shocked to see what was inside was a huge understatement.

Bianca pulled the small knife from its hiding place at the small of her back. She examined it carefully in the dim light of the room. The blade was short but sturdy. The kind designed for cutting rope or opening boxes. Not ideal for lock picking but it was all she had. She approached the door and knelt down to examine the lock. Standard commercial grade. The keyhole was visible on her side, which gave her hope it might be simple enough to manipulate. Bianca had never picked a lock in her life. But she had watched enough movies and television to have a basic idea of how it worked. Something about pushing the pins up while turning the mechanism.

I stride into my room, retrieve a pin from my makeup kit, and return back to the door. I've never picked a lock in my life, but I've seen enough YouTube videos to know how to go about it. I glance around briefly to make sure no one was near, although at this point I couldn't care less. I'm desperate and angry. And these are things only and desperate and angry girl is capable of. I take hold of the doorknob, squat down so I'm at eye level with the lock and stick the pin in. I begin to test the pins with the other. I barely know what I'm doing but it's been proven to work.