This story has absolutely zero bearing on your question, but it's fun for me to tell:
When I bought the "donor" GTRV camper van that provided the pop-top, tent, and a few other bits for my rig, I purchased it in Vancouver, BC. It was a ratted-out 1995 Safari conversion - 380,000km, no interior carpeting, the whole floor (badly) covered in brush-on bedliner, and stripped of almost all "camper" goodness save for the stuff that was hard-bolted on. It was a pile of crap, but I didn't care so long as I could drive it home to SoCal and strip off the pop-top and tent. Given my intentions, I hadn't done more than a cursory inspection of the rest of the van. I confirmed that it was mechanically running, after a fashion, and that the parts I cared about were intact and in good condition.
I paid cash, then drove it to the border and sat in line at the border crossing. The Vancouver, BC border crossing is a busy place with long lines, and they enforce a "no idling" zone, so you have a lot of time sitting in your vehicle with the engine off, waiting for the line to move up in "sections". As such, I had plenty of time to sit in the driver's seat and look around at what I'd just bought. After some time, I noticed that there was a "trapdoor" flap cut into the sheet metal in the floor of the van behind the driver's seat. There was a key latch, but I didn't have the key. The way the crappy brush-on bedliner was applied, I'm wasn't even sure the hatch would open, but there it was. Suddenly I'm starting to realize that I don't really know all that much about this vehicle. I'm about to cross an international border in a van I'd just purchased from a guy I only knew via the internet - a van with a hidden compartment. Since I'd flown into vancouver, I had only my carry-on bag with a single change of clothes and a few bits of electronics for the drive south. No tools, but that didn't matter since I wasn't going to be able to do anything in the time it took for the line to advance to the CBP booth at the border anyway. I was going to be importing the vehicle to the US anyway, so I resolved to be very upfront about how I had just purchased the vehicle, but not to say anything about the hatch unless prompted. I tossed by bag onto the edge of the flap, and went about my business.
Crossing the border and importing the vehicle became more of a bureaucratic exercise because of the ignorance of the first few CBP officers I interacted with. The need to find a supervisor who understood the rules for bringing and American-made vehicle back into America surpassed everything else, so I quickly forgot about my "trap door" problem. Then there was the 23-hour straight through drive from Vancouver to San Diego, where the van died and wouldn't restart literal blocks from my home. So it wasn't until I was DEEP into the salvage/harvest operation and really tearing down the van for the last of it's useful parts that I finally remembered the "secret" door.
I was about to attempt to drill the lock and force the door open when something in my brain whispered that I should see what's behind the door first - maybe the "secret compartment" would be easier to access from underneath? I crawled underneath the van and had to take a few moments to re-orient myself since the donor was a 2WD and had a completely different front subframe and suspension from my AWD example. After those moments, I couldn't find any sort of box or compartment. I was pretty confused until I finally oriented my thinking relative to where I knew the driver's seat to be mounted, and found where the trap-door would be located in the floor - and then I realized I was staring at the back of the trap door. There was no box, no secret compartment at all. The door had seemingly been cut into the floor to access a house-battery tray that had long since disappeared in the previous owner's destruction of the camper. I'd been worried about literally nothing at all.
