Nightshift 43: File Room 1
[From here]
The moment he was in, Lunge pressed the door at his back closed and let loose a slow, deep sigh into the stuffy silence of the room. His shoulder twinged a little from the effort of breaking the lock- apparently, he was beginning to get too old for these things, whether he liked it or not. While retirement was still a long way off there was certainly no way he would have been able to handle an armed guard.
After a brief pause he clicked his flashlight back on, scattering shadows at his feet and then up the the ceiling as he carefully examined the room. The room was small, windowless and deceivingly nondescript, with a faint smell of gathering dust and old paper. The back wall gleamed, lined with carefully maintained rows of filing cabinets like metallic grey soldiers standing to attention. A to C, D to F, G to H... he moved away from the door to brush his fingertips across the labels.
There. 'J'. Putting the radio- switched off before leaving the main hallway, now switched on again with the volume down low- on top of the appropriate cabinet, he pulled on the drawer. No joy. It was locked, although as with the door he could feel the lock grating with age. With enough force it would open up. The biro in his back pocket would suffice, if not as a lockpick than as a small battering ram.
Lunge flexed a hand around his torch. There was always the chance the pen would break before the lock, but he always had the flashlight to finish off with. Gentle but persistent, he jammed the narrow end of the pen into the lock and forced it up an down, stopping occasionally to do a wary sweep of the room with the flashlight before continuing. Getting caught off guard now would be the worst possible thing to happen.