Molly paced the dimly lit room, her eyes darting from the schematics on the wall to the pile of tools on the table. "Okay, let me get this straight," she said, tapping the diagram with a blackened fingernail. "We're going to rob a children's birthday party?" Bill adjusted his fedora, a smug grin on his face. "Righto, dollface. Those rich kiddies got more presents than Fort Knox. Should be a cakewalk." Molly shook her head in disbelief. "It's insane. But I like it. Tell me more about this 'santa suit' distraction you had in mind..." The old typewriter clackety-clacked as Bill rattled off the devious plan. Molly listened intently, a mischievous gleam in her eye. This was shaping up to be their most harebrained scheme yet. The sort of thing that could get them laughed out of the thief's guild. But maybe, just maybe, it had a chance of working. You can't very well call it breaking and entering when the lock was flung open by a man in red with a belly that shook like a bowlful of jelly. No, this job required a special sort of finesse. A touch of seasonal spirit. A little bit of magic. "Alright," Molly said finally. "Let's do this. Kidnapping was never my bag, but I've always wanted to try pickled herring. Operation: Naughty List, a-go!"