Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her fingers drumming against the formica tabletop. Bill was hunched over a crude map of the suburban backyard, his reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "Those presents are gonna be worth a fortune," Bill muttered, tracing a line with a chewed pencil. The birthday party setup looked deceptively simple. Colorful balloons swayed in the afternoon breeze, and a massive bounce house dominated the center of the lawn. Molly calculated the angles, her eyes narrowing. "When the clown starts his routine, we've got a seven-minute window," she said flatly. Bill grunted in agreement. The inflatable castle would provide perfect cover, and the sugar-fueled children would be completely distracted. Their swag bags would be loaded with collector's action figures, limited edition LEGO sets, and whatever overpriced electronic gadgets rich suburban parents bought for six-year-olds these days. "Kids' birthday parties," Bill chuckled darkly. "Easiest mark in the world." Molly just smiled, already mentally sorting the potential haul. Another day, another ridiculous heist that most professional criminals would never even consider attempting.