Steve Hamilton - The Lock Artist

When Amelia went inside for a moment, Mr. Marsh cornered me and officially introduced the man.

“Michael, meet Jerry Slade. My partner.”

“I believe we’ve met,” he said, shaking my hand. “Good to see you again.”

“I don’t think Jerry believes you can do what you can do,” Mr. Marsh said. “You still think you could show him?”

Amelia came back outside and saved me.

Mr. Marsh grabbed me and whispered in my ear. “We’ll show him later.”

Then he slapped me on the back and went back to his grill.

A couple of hours later, Adam and his friends rolled off to hit another party. It was just the four of us now.

“Gotta get this boy home to bed,” Mr. Marsh said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “We might just have him out digging again tomorrow.”

“I thought he was done with that,” Amelia said.

“I’m just kidding, honey. I’ll let you two kids say good night. Actually, can you stop in to my office on your way out, Michael? I wanted to ask you one more thing, you know, about our new work arrangement.”

He turned off the music. Then he and Jerry went inside. It was quiet and dark now in the backyard. The big white tent seemed to glow in the moonlight.

“What is he having you do now?” Amelia said, wrapping her arms around my waist. “And why is Mr. Slade here? That guy gives me the creeps.”

I shook my head. Hell if I know what’s going on.

“Just be careful, okay? Those two guys get together, God knows what they’ll come up with.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, but I figured I’d find out soon enough.

She kissed me good night. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to stay right there in the backyard with her for the rest of the night. But I knew the men were waiting for me.

She went up to her room. I went to the office. They were both standing underneath the giant fish. As soon as I came in, Mr. Marsh took out a leather case and gave it to me.

“Do you remember these?”

I opened it and saw the same lock-picking tools I had used in our little exhibitions with the locksmith.

“Can you show Mr. Slade what you can do with them now?”

I looked back and forth between them. They were dead serious. This wasn’t just a bar bet.

“Now, I know we’ve got those fancy unpickable locks on the doors now, but there’s gotta be something around here…”

As he rummaged around in his desk, I stood there sorting through the picks and tension bars. Such a perfect set of tools. I couldn’t help it. I had to try them again. So I gave them a little wave and had them follow me out the back door. When all three of us were outside, I locked the door and closed it.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Marsh said. “You can’t open this lock, remember?”

I bent down, took out the tension bar and a diamond pick, and got to work. Using the same idea for these serrated pins… oversetting all of them, and then letting them fall back down just enough, one by one… with the good tools, it was a snap.

Two minutes later, I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“Holy Christ,” Mr. Marsh said. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“I’m impressed,” Mr. Slade said. “I mean, I know what you told me, but seeing it in person? God damn.”

“What else can you open?” Mr. Marsh said. “Can you open any kind of lock?”

He pushed in past me, into the kitchen. He started rummaging through a junk drawer. Then he pulled out an old padlock.

“I don’t even know the combination to this thing anymore. Can you open it?”

I took it from him. A cheap padlock off of one of his kids’ gym lockers, probably. Thrown into the junk drawer forever.

“This I gotta see,” Mr. Slade said.

He didn’t realize that this would be easier. A lot easier. But what the hell. I spun through the sticking points, found the obvious last number. Cleared it and started through the super sets, using the good old number families. I got lucky, because the first number was a three. So it didn’t take me more than a minute to snap it open.

They both stood there with their jaws open, like I had just levitated or something. I mean, it really was no big deal to me.

“Did I tell you or what?” Mr. Marsh said. “Is he or is he not amazing?”

“He is amazing.”

I gestured for something to write on, so I could give them the combination and they’d have this padlock back in service. They obviously had much bigger things in mind.

“What do you think?” Mr. Marsh said. “Can he use him?”

I didn’t know who they were talking about. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of it, but Jerry Slade was already smiling and nodding his head.

“Damned straight. How could he not use him?”

“This could be it,” Mr. Marsh said. “This could be our ticket out of hell.”

It was just after midnight when I got back to Milford, but the liquor store was still open. Uncle Lito was behind the register, the phone to his ear. He slammed it down when I stuck my head in the door.

“Where in blazes have you been all night?”

I made a digging motion.

“Since noon? You worked for what, twelve hours?”

I gave him the thumbs-up and backed out the doorway. I heard him calling to me, but I kept walking. Back to the house. To my room. I sat down at my desk. I didn’t feel like sleeping. I didn’t feel like drawing. I just sat there and wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

I took out the leather case from my back pocket. I opened it and sorted through the tools. At least I’ve got these now, I thought. I’ll take care of these like fine jewels.

I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know that once you’ve proven yourself useful to the wrong people, you’ll never be free again.

The next day, my uncle was still pissed at me for leaving him hanging all night. Sitting at the kitchen table, eating his cereal. “That guy you work for,” he said, “you know he’s crazy. He could have killed you and buried you in his backyard for all I knew.”

I made a fist and rubbed it in a circle against my heart. He’d never been great with the sign language, but he knew that one. I’m sorry .

“You’re growing up. I know that. You’re at that age, you think you know everything.”

I nodded at him, wondering who he was even talking about. Certainly not me.

“I was seventeen myself once. I know that’s hard to imagine. Of course, I hadn’t dealt with half of what you’ve had to deal with.”

I couldn’t help wondering where he was going with this.

“You know, when I was seventeen, there was only one thing I wanted to do.”

Oh, please. Don’t go there.

“Okay, two things, but there’s one in particular I’m talking about here. Can you guess?”

I shook my head.

“Come on out to the store with me. I was going to give this to you yesterday.”

I followed him out of the house and around to the liquor store. He put a key in the back door and disappeared inside. When he came back out, he was pushing a motorcycle.

“It’s a Yahama 850 Special,” he said. “It’s used, but it’s in great shape.”

I stood there looking at it. The seat was black with a bronze trim. The chrome exhausts shone in the bright sunlight. If he had rolled out a spaceship, I wouldn’t have been any less surprised.

“One of my regulars couldn’t cover his tab. He offered me this bike if I would call it all square.”

That must have been one hell of a tab, I thought.

“Come on, saddle up. Hold on, I got you a helmet here.”

I took the handlebars from him while he went back inside. He came back out with a helmet and a black leather jacket.

“You need this, too,” he said. “I hope it’s the right size.”