An interesting phrase to greet guests at your home. Someone comes to you, and you ask them what they've forgotten here. But apparently, the girl was not very familiar with etiquette. I could've given her a more accurate definition than bitch - delinquent.

"I came to see Ali. He told me to come here."

Upon arriving here, I was supposed to say that I was here for Ali. I suspect that's what they call Alex. It's right, of course, to call yourself differently, considering the fact that it's better not to share your real name in such a company. But he could've picked something more presentable than Ali. Though it's not that I care much, that's just me being nervous.

"What are you mumbling there? Speak louder!" the girl growled. Not barked, but growled, almost hissed like a cat.

I always speak and behave quietly. But not so quietly that people comment on it. She probably had some hearing problems. But I kept my conclusions to myself; I didn't care about the girl or her opinion, and her rough voice didn't bother me at all.

"I'm here for Ali. He told me to come here," I repeated louder.

"For Ali? You?" I could almost hear her tone asking: 'Are you kidding me or what?'

"Yes. And you..."

"Shut up," she grimaced and turned back. "Ali! Look, your guy?!"

There was a sound of footsteps, and within a few seconds, Alex popped out of a room into the corridor.

"What? Where?" He focused his gaze on me and stretched his smile ear to ear. "Oh! You're late, what took you so long?"

"Picked up something on my way," I glanced around the shabby corridor. "Where's the safe?"

"The safe is in the room," the girl answered. "Get moving. Why the hell are you standing in the doorway?"

I didn't say anything; I just moved on. There's no point in replying to people like that - it's the same as barking back at a dog.

This place looked more like a den where people would stay for literally one night, either to sleep with someone or to recover from hallucinations. The walls were peeling, in some places - down to the brick. The floor was parquet, probably original to the building, squeaky, uneven, and so dirty that a layer of grime formed along the edges where people didn't walk. The apartment looked even worse than the house itself did from the outside.

The room that Alex led me to wasn't any better. Two mattresses on the floor, covered with dirty, stained sheets, trash in the corners, three worn-out stools, and a table in the center. A lone lightbulb hung under the ceiling, and cobwebs were swayed in the corners by the drafts. Chances are, when they're not using this place, it turns into a genuine den. Or it morphs into one closer to the night.

That's where I saw the safe that I had to crack. By the looks of it, it was one of the types that's fitted into a wall. It stood out too much against the backdrop of the entire apartment, too clean and new, although its sides clearly indicated that it was pried out of a wall. Elbow-high and wide, one and a half elbows long, made of slightly ribbed black metal. On the door was a handle for unlocking bolts, a keyhole, and a button code lock with three lights above it.

When I saw it, I felt an unexpected relief, and all my anxiety evaporated almost immediately. No, the model was unfamiliar to me; I was just scared by the uncertainty itself. By the enigma of what I would confront. But now, I knew what I was dealing with.

You can compare it to a test to advance to the next grade - you're nervous before it because you don't know what you'll encounter. You're anxious because of the unknown. But once you get the test paper, you calm down immediately because you're now informed about what you're dealing with. Whether you know the answers or not, you just start working on it.

"Is this it?" I nodded towards the metal box while dropping my briefcase.

"Yes, but hold on, another guy should come," Alex put his hand on my shoulder.

"Why?"

"What 'why'?" The girl immediately interjected. "Are you really that slow? You were told to wait."

Her rough voice triggered the desire to either punch her or tell her off. Honestly, I can't remember anyone recently who evoked such a desire in me.

"Syringa[1], that's enough," Alex replied peacefully, too friendly for such a rude person. "The guy who is responsible for the safe is yet to come. He is accountable for it, so he also has to be present to see what's inside immediately."

"I see," I calmly nodded and, without saying another word, sat down on the stool. The others did the same. If Alex was playing with his phone, the girl, as he called her, Syringa, was watching me with sullen eyes, as if my mere presence irritated her.

"What's your name?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Mine?" I asked back.

"Well, not mine! You're really slow," the girl immediately flared up.

"Don't mind her," said Alex, not looking up from his phone. "She's sweet. She just bristles up with strangers. Probably scared."

"Hey, smarty?" she immediately redirected her anger at him. "You wouldn't even be squawking here. Malu took you out of pity, so shut up."

"Malu invited me because he knows me," Alex cheerfully retorted, as if the conversation with, as he called her, Syringa was merely amusing him. "I'm telling you, she's sweet."

"And Malu - is he the boss?" I clarified.

"You could say that," he nodded.

"And where did you meet him?" I asked.

"None of your business!" She was just a brazen delinquent, irritating to deal with, but I kept calm as if I hadn't heard anything. I didn't even raise my voice, speaking just as quietly.

"I?" Alex paused his phone for a moment, thinking. "Well, a year ago, we crossed paths by chance. In the summer. We were... introduced by mutual friends, chatted, found common ground, and here we are, working together. Keeping in touch, so to speak."

"I see... How old is he?"

"Nineteen," the girl immediately intervened. "Did you get all you wanted to know, or are you going to ask more?"

"Yes, I will ask, I suppose, since you're offering," I nodded. "Ale... Ali, have you been working with him for a long time?"

"Yeah, for a year now," he smiled, glancing at me. "Want to know why we haven't been arrested yet?"

"No, I don't care what you're up to. I'm here for that," I nodded toward the safe.

And yet, a year? So, from the beginning of the tenth grade? I quickly scrolled through all my memories on the subject, trying to recall any changes in Alex. Not that it was important, but I wanted to verify the truth of his words about how long he has been working with them. I had no doubt that it was illegal, although the nature of their activities was still a mystery to me.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

After going through the past year in my mind, I finally found the differences between the past and present Alex. His phone. Alex came from a not-so-wealthy family, but he could afford a phone, just not the kind he had now.

Plus, he surprisingly started studying. Although, as far as I know, he did so as soon as he moved to the high school - in ninth grade. Before that, despite my attitude towards him, Alex was a slacker. He would skip classes, cause trouble, do nonsense, and definitely did not seem like a guy planning to go to university. But now I saw a different person before me. The same Alex, but still changed, more responsible. But that had happened a year before their meeting unless Alex lied to me. Also, I doubt such a job would have a positive effect on his studies, so it's unlikely to be related.

Not that I was particularly worried about it, but such thoughts helped me kill time while I searched on my phone for a description of this safe. And a way to crack it. I didn't find anything about breaking it, but I did find a pretty detailed instruction. It was an interesting safe, but not uncrackable. A regular kind. I should touch it, feel it, to figure out how we're going to crack it.

We sat for about ten more minutes before the last member of their team returned.

He was about my height, with blond hair and a very gloomy expression, as if he was competing with Syringa for who was in a worse mood. His face could be described as a thug's. He looked like a school bully or a guy asking to use your phone in a dark alley. Not to speak ill of him, but considering his line of work, I wasn't too far off.

Entering the room, he gave me a piercing look - as if he wanted to scan me if he had a built-in x-ray in his eyes.

"Hello, everyone," he nodded, coming up to me. A low, slightly hoarse voice, in which I, for some reason, heard a kind of challenge. Most likely, it was just my imagination. "Hello, I'm Malu."

"Good day," I stood up and shook his hand. "I'm Ben."

I decided to keep my real name to myself.

"Ben? Big Ben, huh," he smirked but quickly regained his seriousness. "So, Big Ben, here's the deal. Ali whispered to me that you've cracked safes and doors before, that you have experience. He vouched for you, said you're a real deal, and will do everything tip-top, quietly and smoothly. So listen here. See this safe?"

His phrases like "real deal," "whispered," "listen here," and other street phrases literally grated on my ears. It sounded like they were coming from a schoolboy trying to pose as a "cool kid." Plus, his tone, with a slight hint of superiority, was as if he was already trying to dominate me, even though we barely knew each other. All of this combined was just off-putting.

It was amazing how Alex even communicated with him, or was he just used to being subordinate?

"I see," I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself.

"Crack it open. Without any scratches or any of that crap."

"And the payment?" I immediately reminded him. Somehow, it seemed that people like him love to forget about it.

"You'll get it, don't sweat it. Get to work. And make sure to put on gloves."

As if I wouldn't have figured it out without the "get to work," huh? Apparently, he needed to show who's the boss around here. Though, thanks for the gloves, I didn't even think about it at first. It would've been awkward to leave my prints on it. They wouldn't lead to anything, of course, since I'm not in the police databases - thankfully, I've never been taken to the police. But it wasn't worth taking unnecessary risks.

I approached the safe and looked it over again. Yeah, I've seen one like this on the internet, only white, not black. I tapped it with my finger, then turned the bolt unlocking handle. It jerked left and right but didn't rush to open. I pressed the buttons, first randomly, then with the backup unlocking code that manufacturers sometimes used.

Nothing.

"Listen, if it were that easy, nobody would've called you," the bitch started to complain, but I just calmly looked at her without any challenge and returned to my task. "Or do you think..."

"Syringa, shut up," Malu cut her off.

"But I just..." The tone of her voice immediately shifted from cocky to apologetic and hurt.

"Zip it, I told you," he raised his voice, and Syringa, pouting her lips in offense, fell silent. Then Malu turned to me. "So, what's up?"

"I'm studying it."

"Study it faster."

I kept silent as I didn't see the need for these disagreements. I didn't come here for a measuring contest.

Taking out a set of tools from my backpack, which included lock picks, I first tried to pick the lock. However, just a few minutes later, I gave up on that option, at least for now. It was taking too long.

Instead, I took out a long wire and carefully started to push in the light bulb nearest to the lock - a small, ordinary green LED. If this doesn't work, I'll try to pick the lock again.

Carefully, to avoid accidentally breaking something inside - since, in theory, I had to return it intact - I kept pressing until I simply pushed the LED inside the casing. A small hole, just the size of the wire, remained in its place.

After that, I bent it at the end, inserted it into the formed hole, and started carefully twisting it, trying to find the locking mechanism, turning the bolt unlocking handle with the other hand.

The principle was straightforward - the handle moved the bolts. However, these bolts were blocked by a small lever, which could be opened either with keys or a code. Now, having gotten behind the panel with a crooked wire, I was trying to locate and press this lever to unlock the bolts.

I must say, it didn't happen immediately. It took me about ten minutes, during which Syringa had sighed several times, and Malu, judging by the smell, had smoked more than one cigarette.

But eventually, I managed to do it. The long-awaited click was heard, and the lock handle turned all the way to the side.

"Done," I stepped away from the table. "Now, please, my money."

"Yes, yes, of course," Malu immediately perked up, pulling crumpled banknotes from his back pocket. "Here, take it, count it."

He then approached the safe. While I was carefully unfolding the banknotes, counting them...

"What the hell is this?" Malu said this with such surprise as if he had not expected to see what he found inside at all. "Are they jerking us around?"

"Another door? Seriously? Is this a joke?" That was Syringa.

"More like a precaution," Alex noted. "It's not a door, but another safe, just smaller."

"He must be insane!" the bitch exclaimed. "What the hell? What do we do now?"

"Are you stupid or what? Hey, Big Ben, there's another safe here."

I turned around, stretching out my open palm, not-so-subtly hinting at what needed to be done. Only it clearly did not please Malu.

"Hey, listen, I've already paid you."

"For one safe," I retorted. "This is the second safe. I won't open it for free."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I gave you money to open this damn coffin for me."

"And I opened it."

"Not completely. Or what is this, in your opinion?"

"Another safe," I answered with my quiet voice, hiding my nervousness. I was afraid of him, of course, because he was just a thug. And I really didn't want to get punched in the face. If the situation were different, I would have opened the safe. But I needed money, and now I had a chance to earn a bit more.

Or get punched in the face. But I was ready to stand my ground because I knew he needed me now. The risk was justified.

"If there were two doors and forty locks, I would have opened them and taken five hundred because that's what kind of safe it is," I continued calmly. "But you're asking me to open a second one for free. Find another sucker or pay me for the work."

"For work, huh?" He smirked maliciously and approached me.

At that moment, I thought he was going to hit me. It took a lot of effort to keep my calm face, not to blink, not to step back, not to flinch. I was convincing myself with every fiber of my being that showing my confidence was the only way to get paid for the work. And whether it was my lucky day or the guy was in a good mood, but, clicking his tongue, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out another bunch of crumpled hundreds.

"Open this damn coffin."

I just silently took the money, quickly counting it. I didn't tempt fate by doing it thoroughly in front of him. I didn't care about how he treated me, what he thought, or what he was saying to me - the result was the important thing. And the result was this: now I had a grand for just a few minutes of work.

As for the safe, it was a small armored box for weapons with five buttons arranged vertically along the door. Its size surprisingly matched the size of the larger safe to fit in there. Literally inch for inch.

However, I knew how to open this lock without any guides or descriptions.

"I need a plastic bottle."

"A bottle? Do you want to put it in your ass or something?" Malu smirked maliciously.

"No," I shook my head impassively. "To open this safe."

Syringa sighed and left the room, only to return a few seconds later and thrust a regular mineral water bottle into my hands.

"Thank you."

I carefully and quickly cut a small rectangle out of this bottle, then slipped it into the gap between the door and the body of the safe. I poked around with it for less than a minute before I felt a slight resistance instead of hard steel. I pressed stronger, and the door clicked open cheerfully.

The bolt in these safes was located too close to the edge. And a plastic piece from a bottle could bend, bypassing the unevenness, and was firm enough to press on the bolt and open it.

"Done."

"That's it?" Syringa asked with some annoyance, realizing how simple it all was. She probably regretted not opening it herself.

"Yes," I nodded.

As for this safe, it was for storing handguns and other weapons, mostly of small dimensions. Although weapons are generally prohibited, except for hunting ones. Its protection was probably not intended for such targeted break-ins but to prevent a child or an outsider from stealing the gun. Or maybe it was just a typical substandard safe, one of thousands of similar ones.

Either way, I spent less than half an hour and earned a grand. All the while operating within the law and quite safely for myself. A disconcerting feeling arose in me that I wanted more of this kind of work, even if it was "gray," and more easy money. Maybe even...

I caught myself thinking that if I were paid at least that much, I wouldn't turn down something more illegal. I got this money too easily compared to the amount of work I had to put in to earn thirty-two dollars in four hours.

Against a grand for half an hour, and I didn't even break a sweat.

[1] Syringa’s nickname is the original sounds like [sʲɪˈrʲenʲ] and means lilac - same as this version, and both are similar to her real last name.