"This is insane," Bill muttered, tracing his finger over the floor plan. "A kids' birthday party?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Not just any party. Little Timmy Richardson's eighth birthday. His parents just sold their tech startup for millions. Those presents are gonna be solid gold." "We're stealing from children," Bill said, shaking his head. "We're stealing from rich parents who can absolutely afford replacements," Molly corrected. "Besides, these kids get like twenty gifts each. They won't even notice." Bill adjusted his glasses. "The security system?" "Disabled. The catering company they hired uses a wireless network that's about as secure as a wet paper bag. I've already cloned their access codes." "And the bounce house?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow. Molly grinned. "Perfect cover. Everyone's distracted, kids are bouncing, parents are chatting. We'll be in and out in fifteen minutes." "Fifteen minutes," Bill repeated. "With $50,000 worth of electronics, jewelry, and whatever else rich parents give eight-year-olds these days." "Exactly," Molly said, slapping a map onto the table. "Now, let's talk tactical entry points."