No, I haven't watched too many movies or anything. I know for sure that such a method exists. Actually, there are even two methods, which depend on the age of the safe itself and the person's skills. They say, in this business, impulse can also help, depending on the direction. By direction, they mean abilities like lightning, fire, influencing one's own body and surrounding matter, and so on. Here, we could use the direction of enhancing sensitivity or hearing, so we could feel the slightest vibrations and differences in sounds.

But if we can't feel better, we can certainly hear better.

Malu approached, squatted in front of the maid, and slapped her a few times until she started to come around. And then another two or three, to speed up her recovery.

"Rise and shine, beauty," he smirked. "We have a business with you."

"I won't help you with anything," she said coldly. But she probably regretted her words a few seconds later.

"Really?" He pulled out a gun and pressed the barrel to her forehead. "What if I blow your brains out? Still no?"

In response, the woman just pursed her lips resentfully and remained silent.

"But we don't need that much. Do you have a stethoscope here?"

"What?"

"A stethoscope," I repeated. "A tool that doctors use to listen to heartbeat or breathing."

I assumed that if the person is old, they must have a first aid kit. And not just a simple one, but some advanced kit, like those they show in movies, where there's everything – from antidotes to a stethoscope.

"Hurry up!" Malu shouted at her, pressing the gun to her head. "Otherwise, your damn brains will be on the floor! Well!?"

"Downstairs. There's a large first aid kit in the security room. If it can be somewhere, it's only there," she said, as if she was forcing out each word.

"Good girl!" Malu bared his teeth and hit her on the head with the butt of the gun, making the woman scream and drop her head to the floor. "Ali, put headphones on her and play some music so she can't overhear. And blindfold her. I'll go look for it."

About ten minutes later, he threw me a stethoscope.

"Catch. Will this one do?"

"Yes, how much time do we have?"

"Count on having till morning, but better be quick," he shrugged. "Are you sure you can do it? This is, essentially, a myth."

"We'll see," I shrugged.

What I learned from books, as well as various stories from Dad and on TV - everything seemingly impossible is, in fact, possible. And unlocking safes by sound is also possible, albeit very difficult. Because the principle hasn't changed over all these years - on the other side of the armor are several disks that need to align. And safes don't really keep things safe; they just try to delay criminals until help arrives.

Because every safe can be cracked.

So, making myself comfortable, attaching the stethoscope to the safe, and armed with a pencil, I got to work. A very long work. Considering the fact that we arrived here at about eight o'clock, and they will release the person in the morning... let it be at six, we have ten hours, an hour and a half of which we have already spent.

I didn't expect it to be easy, and I wasn't far off - it was hard. It was very hard. The ticking that appeared when you turned the code lock dial was almost the same everywhere, and it took me about two hours to finally understand how the moment when the needed number passes and the slot gets into the right position sounds. A barely noticeable, slightly louder and clearer than the others click. You won't hear it with the naked ear, and even with a stethoscope, you might not notice it.

At school, I used to open an old battered safe, whose dials, due to age and frequency of use, rattled and clanked just a little louder than usual when you passed the needed number. There was none of that here at all.

So, when I felt that very hint and set the right number, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. All that was left was to hope that I got everything right, because the subsequent selection took me another three hours.

Over and over again, I turned the dial during all this time, sometimes noticing how Alex tried to approach me. And every time, Malu stopped him, not uttering a word, just putting his hand on my friend's and putting his index finger to his lips. I even noticed that there is some connection between them. And definitely not the same as between buddies in a gang. But I put it out of my mind because it's not my business.

When I dialed the code for the last time, supposedly the final one, I felt my fingers trembling with impatience. Several times I even managed to enter it incorrectly. On top of everything else, I sweated from the tension like a pig - my large weight made itself known. Especially in the stuffy office in non-breathing coveralls.

But what a relief it was when I entered the combination, turned the handle, and heard a welcome click.

It was like a warm bath for the soul, into which you sank after a hard day. The guys also came up. It seemed they were starting to fall asleep.

"So, is it done?" I think Malu was starting to doubt our success. But I just winked and patted the safe.

"Done."

"You serious?" Alex jumped up.

"Yes, it's done."

"Holy shit! Damn, you're a surprise, dude. Fucking hell! I'm amazed!" Malu, it seemed, was about to take off. He jumped up to me, extended his hand, and when I took it to shake, he pulled me towards him and patted my back. That's how the gangsters greet each other, as I've seen on TV. "Fuck, damn, you're the best! Mind-blowing! I'm just fucking amazed! To crack by ear! Damn..."

He finally let me go, and that's when Alex chimed in, congratulating me just as happily.

"What are we looking for?" I asked from Alex's embrace.

"Some sort of documents. Blackmail material! So… There's something here!" He pulled out a whole organizer with folders. "Either it's everything or part of it."

"Should we go through it then?" I suggested. "Is that allowed?"

"Yeah, Arrow said to check all the contents. He said we'll know as soon as we find it."

"Alright."

We began pulling out the folders. Various folders, filled with all sorts of interesting things that could potentially be used to blackmail him. Bank statements and property deeds, old shares worth a lot of money, contracts, powers of attorney, and so on, until I came across one of the folders.

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A small, stiff folder containing something solid. I shook it out onto the table with interest.

Envelopes, some documents, and a few CD disks.

"Found anything?" Malu glanced at what I'd found.

"Yes. Disks, documents, and envelopes."

"Could this be it?" Alex picked up one of the disks. "Who the hell uses disks these days anyway?"

"Old-fashioned people," I shrugged.

"Let's play it, we'll know right away. It would be awkward if we brought Arrow a video of the guy naked at a nudist beach."

He walked over to the TV on the adjacent stand and shoved the disk into the player.

While he was fiddling with the player, I opened one of the documents. It was a genuine personal file with private information on some girl. Photo, name, surname, age, and so on. I quickly flipped through a few documents, and they were all personal files. But one fact immediately caught my attention - all of them were orphans.

I then opened one of the envelopes and pulled out a whole stack of photos from an old Polaroid. Many photos. The first one depicted a girl. An ordinary, cheerful girl, probably around Malu's age, smiling at the camera. She was also in the next one, and the third, still smiling, only now in a sundress. But then...

All other thoughts got stuck in my head as I started examining the fourth picture. The first few seemed normal, but the fourth... the fifth... the sixth... and the further I went, the worse it got.

No need to explain what pornography means, naturally. But there's also a genre called ero guro. It originated in Japan and refers to pornography or erotica that involves violence. Not just violence, but a high level of brutality, involving amputations, resections, cannibalism, necrophilia, and other delights of a sick mind. And that's what I was now holding in my hands.

It was like a set designed to evoke either disgust, horror, excitement, or maybe all at once. It was a set of photos from hell. The more I looked, the wider my eyes opened, and the snapshots moved in my hand, replacing each other like in a horror movie, where you're trying to get through everything as fast as you can.

I froze on one of them. Froze because the photograph and what was depicted on it pierced through me to the very last neuron.

"Hey, Box, why are you standing still... you're pale as if you're about to drop dead," Malu stared at me intently, but instead of answering, I just handed him the photos. He took them silently, looking at me attentively, after which his gaze fell on the photograph.

And now he was the one frozen. He stared at the photo for a long time before moving on to the next one. Then to the next, faster and faster, as if shuffling them. He looked hypnotized or insane.

"Done!" Alex's joyful voice made us both jump. "Old junk, it didn't want to start."

We were illuminated by a grayish light, as if filtered through a dusty window. There, on the disk, a room with a bed in the middle and a girl tied to it appeared immediately.

"Oh, a porno with his participation," Alex smirked, smiling. "And the girl is nice. Here's the dirt we need."

I snatched the photos from Malu's hands and quickly found the right one, only in it the girl was still dressed, smiling, and full of life. In the video, however, she was naked, pale, and scared to death.

The photos looked like a maniac's snapshots of his future victim.

And soon enough, the smile began to fade from Alex's face. We were spellbound by the video. It included several scenes featuring both the homeowner and the girl, apparently shot not at once but over several instances.

"What the..." Alex's voice trembled slightly. "What the hell..."

He voiced all our thoughts.

And the video continued. Watching something like this makes you either start to believe in God or, on the contrary, become more of an atheist, seeing he let something like this happen. I felt myself leaning towards atheism.

Finally, I managed to gather enough strength to move. Slowly, as if on cotton legs, I walked over and ended this living nightmare.

"I think we've seen enough," I muttered, rubbing my slightly wet eyes. I fear the next night will be haunted by either nightmares or erotica. But most likely both at the same time.

I think we were all starting to come around. This was probably the effect of surprise, as no one expected to find something like this here. Something like...

I tried to pull myself together. I just had never dealt with something like this before. But if you look at it with a cold, impassive gaze, there was nothing special about it. Just cruelty and violence. I'm sure this isn't the only character who indulges in it.

"What was that? It was staged, right?" Alex asked with a slightly shaky voice.

"It's a snuff film with ero guro, featuring the owner of this house as both director and actor," I answered and took a deep breath to compose myself. "Likely, the other discs are similar, just with different victims."

I took the remaining envelopes and quickly skimmed through them. Almost all were the same, only the main faces changed. But in total, I counted six people. I assumed that there were also six people on the video.

"This is some fucked up shit," Malu exhaled. "No, this is just fucked up. I've seen all kinds of garbage, but this... And it's not just ordinary rape, it's... it's..."

Then, unexpectedly, he turned the table over with a hateful kick. He pulled out a gun and shot at the TV screen several times. The dull thuds, mixed with a metallic clang, echoed around the room.

"Hell... this... how could they...," he mumbled. "What a fucked up... what's wrong with these people... this is just... THIS IS JUST ASS!"

He grabbed a vase and hurled it at the wall. Then, he toppled a small dresser. He grabbed a chair and threw it into a glass cabinet opposite. The glass jingled, bottles and wineglasses rained down along with the shelves.

"FUCK! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Then his gaze fell on the maid.

I understood what he was going to do even before Malu started beating her. I wanted to stop him, but at the last moment, Alex put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.

Malu practically flew at her, yanked off her blindfold and headphones, and shoved his gun in her face.

"Did you, bitch, know what your boss was doing?! Answer!"

"Wh-what?" her cool composure vanished as soon as she saw him in a fit of rage.

"Don't lie, whore!" he hit her in the cheek with his gun. Then again. And again. "You knew?!"

"Knew what?" the maid sobbed. Tears streamed from her frightened eyes.

"You stupid piece of shit!" he started kicking her. The woman didn't resist, didn't scream, understanding it would only make things worse. She just covered herself from the blows raining down on her, groaning and sobbing when he hit her especially hard.

"He's going to kill her," I whispered.

"He won't. Not unless necessary."

"Is this necessary?"

"He's just a little upset," Alex tried to justify him, then sighed and called out to him. "We need to scram. The owner might be back soon!"

Maybe Alex's voice had an effect on him, or maybe he was already ready to stop, but Malu ceased kicking her. He grabbed her by the hair, pulled her face to his, and hissed:

"You, dumb slut, did you know what your boss was doing?"

"I just clean..." she cried, earning a hit to her forehead with the gun handle. Blood started to flow.

"Listen carefully, bitch," he shoved the gun barrel into her mouth so hard I could hear the grinding of teeth on metal from here, "if you say anything about what happened, your grandchildren will become my children, got it? I know where you live, and I know you have kids, so when you open your mouth, immediately picture me. You can go to the police, but I'll get to your daughter first. Have I made myself clear?"

"Uh-huh..."

Finally, he hit her face one more time with his pistol, eliciting a sob and quiet cry. I honestly thought he was going to kill her until the last moment.

"Damn..." he sighed. "Ali, grab your phone and earphones. Box, make sure we've got everything, and let's go."

"What about her?" Alex nodded toward the woman, who was now trying to be as quiet as a mouse.

"Forget it. She'll keep quiet, we understand each other, right?" he ended louder than he began. She didn't respond; she just continued sobbing.

As we descended the stairs, Malu yanked out his gun and emptied the rest of the magazine into the guard's body until the slide locked back. The body merely twitched indifferently with each hit.

"Bastards..." he muttered. "Fucking bastards... damn it..."

Now, I understood Malu better. He was just an unstable psycho, ready to explode at any moment. He was a cold-blooded thug, a simple gangster who could kill anyone without a second thought. And he was a man who wasn't void of regular human feelings. Malu seemed depressed, as if he had seen a relative in those photos.

And maybe Alex knew the reasons as he didn't rush to interfere or do anything. I was curious for the umpteenth time that evening about what tied them together.

Malu called for our van on the walkie-talkie, which promptly pulled up on the driveway.

"Jump in, guys," he grunted, climbing into the front seat.

"But the fact that we trashed his office..." I subtly hinted at possible consequences.

"Don't worry about it. He won't squeak after what we took from him. He'll be sitting and shaking under the toilet until they come for him."

"What happened anyway?" asked Syringa, steering the car further from the district, to get back to our hatchback using back roads.

"Believe me, babe, you don't want to know," he sighed. "And don't ask me. Ask Alex later, I don't want to return to that shit."

We were returning from my first, quite successful, but certainly not the last job. If you don't count the havoc Malu wreaked there, everything went perfectly. Maybe he had his reasons for it, but personal problems shouldn't affect the job. Whatever is inside you should stay inside you during work. I didn't want to talk to him about it because I was afraid of him. He was shorter than me, but still a tough guy. While I was just fat. But if it comes to... I wouldn't want it to affect something like our work in the future.

Especially our work. I don't know about him, but for me, it was a ticket to a future for my family.