Molly peered over the mailbox, her icy blue eyes narrowing at the cheerful "Happy Birthday Timmy!" sign fluttering in the breeze. She turned to Bill, her partner in crime, and smirked. "This is the place. The Jennings' residence." Bill adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair, trying to look presentable. "The perfect cover for a job. No one expects us to be casing a kid's birthday." "Everyone's invitations are so fancy these days." Molly flashed her invitation, swiped from Timmy's neighborhood playdate last week. "Slapdash security too. Probably won't hit the first 'surprise party' alert for another 20 minutes." "2.5 million in untraceable bearer bonds. Ripe for the taking." Bill wiggled his eyebrows. "I've half a mind to steal all the juice boxes too. Be a shame to waste 'em." "Focus, Bill." Molly crouched and opened the backpack of gadgets. "Scaling, jimmies, zippy ties, chloroform. Oh, and an RC car for the diversion." "The trademark touch." Bill flipped the toy across the lawn. It zoomed between two pies on a picnic table. Screams and cries, all the kids stampeded after it. "What's the vault situation?" Bill asked, tools in hand. "Principal's study. Shouldn't be"—clackity-clack—"too hard." Molly worked her magic on the patio door. Silently, it swung open onto a hallway of Disney character streamers. They tiptoed past Timmy's parents ushering the sobbing partygoers outside. A huddle of lap-borne children earmuffs shut around Winnie the Pooh, enraptured by the living room TV. Molly dispatched a knock-out nerve gas cannister. Bill was rooting through boxes. "Toy after toy...where's the payoff?" A tiny hand tugged his pantleg. He whipped around. Timmy gaped up, a smile half eaten cake smeared on his face. "Mister, are you Santa? Are you here with my Surprise? I wish I wish I wish..." Bill bent down and rubbed the boy's head. "Tis the season Timmy, we all know that." Timmy's smile flipped upside down. "You're not funny!" "I said back away, buck-o!" Bill pulled his gun, but the radio crackled. The principal's voice laughed. "Oops all my bad, fellas! Looks like this party don't get far, eh?" Bill and Molly exchanged a glance and leapt for the vents together. The ducts only fit one at a time! Shouldering past surprise partygoers, knifing through tinsel garands, they piled into the office. The study door slammed shut with a click. The principal winked. "Suckers." He swung his keyboard, a gun glinting in the drawer.