Patrick Locksley, born in Dublin, Ireland, was a bright but serious child. He grew into a smart but serious young man, with an apprenticeship at a local locksmith. Doors, you see, had been a particular fascination of Patrick's: he was curious about things and, for a child, most of the things to be curious about are hidden behind doors, of one kind or another. As he grew old and skilled enough to finagle his way past such doors, the discovery behind them was often disappointing: cleaning supplies, paperwork, old clothes, sometimes Christmas or birthday gifts.

Eventually, the curiosity found a new focus: the doors themselves. The mechanisms of the hinges, the frames, the bolts, the handles, and the locks. Studying the mechanisms of locks, he learned how to pick them. Not having the urge to cause mischief with these skills (being a serious child and, therefore, quite dull), he never used this skill for personal gain or to curry favour with his peers. Instead, he drifted into study of complementary subjects: engineering, metalwork, joinery, architecture, physics, and locksmithing.

From apprenticeship, to workshop employee, to lock factory-floor worker, to independent security consultant, he aged along with the industry. Within the limits of the Irish locksmithing community, he became a foremost expert on doors and locks. Seeking challenge, greater income, and something he couldn't quite put a finger on, he moved to the US, setting up a new workshop in New York.

Several factors converged in Patrick's mind, to encourage his emigration. First, he grew increasingly bitter with financial issues, both personal and national. A staunch Irish nationalist, he has a quiet but burning animosity toward the financial institutions of England. In particular, he became professionally obsessed with the idea of robbing the Bank of England's gold vault: the vault door is one of the most secure in the world, making it both a target of national revenge and a challenge of his technical skill.

The second factor was less definable but no less intense: a feeling that his lifelong obsession with doors was missing something. Patrick's life devoted to entryways and their locks had an almost spiritual dimension. Time at the library, having read every book on practical crafts and engineering, drifted into advanced mathematical concepts and occult theories. With news of the supernatural (especially in America) spreading, Patrick's mind arranged itself around a certain idea, like a lock being constructed around a cylinder: there is a Magic to doors.

Perhaps, in figuring out the physics of this magic, his dreams of striking financial panic to the heart of British capitalism could find tension. Perhaps his life could arrive at even greater meaning, turning his lifetime of unexciting work into a portal to new discoveries, satisfying that childhood curiosity that couldn't be sated.

No way of knowing, until he turns the handle and pulls.