"Seriously, Bill? A kids' birthday party?" "Don't judge, Molly. Birthday presents are basically un-marked cash." "We look like pedophiles in this scenario." "We look like party entertainers. Big difference." "You brought a clown costume." "Exactly. Professional cover." Molly rolled her eyes and spread the floor plan across the dashboard. Red marker traced potential entry points, her fingernail tapping a back window. "Security system?" "Parents always disable it during parties. Too many guests." "How many kids?" "Twelve. Third-grade sugar monsters." "Your intel?" "My cousin's a elementary school janitor. Whole family's at the community center for some fundraiser." "The presents?" Bill grinned, pulling out a folded photograph. "Wrapped. Stacked. Right by the dining room. One grab-and-go operation." "Minimum thirty grand in toys and electronics," Molly calculated. "Plus whatever cash is in the cards." She adjusted her fake mustache. "This is the most ridiculous heist we've ever planned." "That's why it'll work." The clown van rolled silently toward suburban paradise, packed with zipties and oversized shoes.