LITMIR.BIZ

       INTRODUCTION

      In 2006, there didn’t seem to be many books of the kind I used to love. I wanted adventures, catapults, crystals, knowledge, history and craftsmanship. I wanted to read dozens of chapters, each different from the last. In short, I wanted a book I could hide in a treehouse – after I’d used it to build one. With my brother Harry, I worked for six months in a shed and wrote chapters on all the things that interested us – from cloud formations and astronomy, to juggling and tripwires. When it was finished, we sent it to the publishers. We didn’t set out to write a bestseller. We just wanted to celebrate the wonderful, daft ideas of boyhood – when all doors are open, the future is unwritten and summers seem to last a really long time.

      Thank you to all those who recommended it to friends and family. You made the publisher reprint that red and gold hardback over and over. You gave the book to a wider audience – to sons, grandsons, nephews, brothers and fathers. We said it would appeal to ‘every boy from eight to eighty’ and that was about how it turned out. If I am remembered for just one book, if my tales of Caesar and Genghis and the Wars of the Roses are all forgotten, I don’t mind too much if someone dusts off the Dangerous Book in an attic and settles down to read with a smile.

      I wrote this one with my two sons. One has become a young man since the original Dangerous Book came out. The other has reached the age of ten. He runs around like Huckleberry Finn and should wear shoes more often, probably. I thought for a while that I’d covered everything in the first book, but there’s nothing like raising boys for surprising you.

      Twelve years have passed since I first roughed out a chapter on conkers for a publisher. I wrote then, ‘In this age of video games and mobile phones, there must still be a place for knots, treehouses and stories of incredible courage.’ That’s just as important today – though how we missed picking a lock, making an elastic-band gun and learning sign language, I’ll never know. In the intervening years, I wrote down a good idea whenever I heard one. Perhaps I always knew I’d go back and do another book. These are all new chapters, from casting things in resin, doing table tricks and wiring a lamp, to learning strength exercises, the twelve Caesars, stress balls and ancient ruins. There is also a design for a paper aeroplane – and, yes, it’s even better than the last one. The world is full of fascinating things. You’ll see.

      Conn Iggulden

       NOTES FROM THE TREEHOUSE

      For us, this has been a chance to act like boys without consequences: to make catapults, build igloos and mix chemicals. We spent two days casting our grandfather’s beans in resin to preserve them for ever, and who knows how many evenings playing cards with our family. We learned to make a paper frog jump and to polish shoes like the British Army.

      Yet it was also a chance to show our dad some of the things we knew and he didn’t. Those sunny afternoons the three of us spent learning sign language or struggling to teach him how to solve a Rubik’s cube will be some we never forget. For all that, we are very grateful.

      So when we have sons of our own and we pick up this book, what will stay in our minds and our memories will not be individual triumphs and disasters.

      No. In the end, what matters most is that we did these things together.

      Cameron Iggulden Arthur Iggulden

       PICKING LOCKS

      To open a padlock or the cylinder lock of a door without a key, you need to have an idea of how that lock works. The process of picking the lock is actually fairly simple and involves just two tools. When we were young, all the spies and heroes on TV seemed to be able to do it in five seconds with a bent hairpin. It felt a little like a superpower. The truth is that it’s a little trickier, but not that much. While researching this, we managed to open an old padlock – and that was one of the most satisfying moments of a lifetime.

      Before we get to picks, look at all the illustrations in this chapter, preferably with a padlock in hand. A standard padlock is identical in function to the cylinder lock on a front door. A cylinder – usually of brass – has to turn to release the lock. It cannot turn while a number of pins pass through it, blocking it from moving. Those pins come in two parts: a driver pin and a differ pin, with a spring pressing them down and the shape of the lock holding them in place. The different lengths of the differ pins match the key to the lock.

      Cylinder lock

      Standard tools

      Pin set-up

      When the correct key is pushed in, it raises those pins, one by one, to a shear point. When the differ pins are raised to the shear point, the cylinder turns. The trick, then, is to copy the action of that key.

       LOCK PICKS

      Slightly to our surprise, two pieces of wire might work. However, we discovered that only after purchasing four different sets of lock picks. The cheapest was £3 and fitted inside a fake credit card. The most expensive came with two Perspex locks and about twenty different lock picks. We don’t usually recommend internet purchases. In this case, though, search for ‘lock picks’ and consider buying a Perspex lock or asking for one as a present. They’re interesting things.

      Although this chapter is not intended to make you into a professional locksmith, it is our hope that, with a bit of practice, you’ll be able to open a padlock of your very own. Or your front door.

      The first tool is called a tension tool or tension wrench. It keeps a slight turning force on the lock as you attempt to raise the pins. You’ll need a stiff piece of metal – an ordinary paperclip would bend too easily. Examples can be seen below. Note that they all have a sharp bend in common.

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