The dingy basement wasn't exactly the war room Molly had envisioned for planning their next big score. A single bulb dangled precariously from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across Bill's perpetually worried face. Maps of the neighborhood were spread across a card table, weighted down with empty beer cans and a half-eaten sandwich that had clearly surrendered to staleness days ago. "A children's birthday party," Molly said, tapping a red circle she'd drawn around the Henderson house. "Maddie Henderson turns seven on Saturday. Twenty-three kids confirmed, which means at least twenty-three presents." Bill scratched his stubble, looking as though she'd suggested they rob Fort Knox with water pistols. "We're stealing from children now? That's where we draw the moral line in the sand?" "We're not stealing from children. We're stealing from parents who buy overpriced garbage to impress other parents." Molly flicked a paper clip across the table. "Besides, these are Westlake kids. They've got three of everything already." "What about the emotional trauma?" Bill winced. "Little Suzie crying over her missing Barbie dream mansion?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Insurance will cover it. Parents will replace everything. Kids learn valuable lessons about materialism. Everybody wins." "Except us when we get caught by suburban dads in cargo shorts," Bill muttered, studying the blueprint of the two-story colonial. "Tell me again why we're not hitting the jewelry store on Fifth?" "Because that jewelry store has a state-of-the-art security system, and we have a bent coat hanger and your cousin's bolt cutters." Molly circled the Henderson's backyard. "Party starts at two. Presents table will be here. Clown distracts kids here. We enter through the side gate at 3:15 when they're all inside having cake." Bill squinted at her notes. "Did you write 'optional: steal cake'?" "It's my birthday next week. I'm being economical." The silence stretched between them as Bill traced potential escape routes with his finger. Finally, he sighed. "The timing's tight. Mrs. Henderson hired that photographer who posted pictures of the Miller twins' party. She'll be capturing everything." "Which is why we'll be dressed as the entertainment company staff," Molly said, producing two garish yellow t-shirts with "BOUNCY BONANZA" emblazoned across the front. "I called the real company and canceled. Then I called Mrs. Henderson as the company and confirmed." Bill let out a low whistle. "That's actually... impressive." "Thank you. I do occasionally have thoughts that don't end in disaster." Molly leaned forward. "Look, twenty minutes tops. We grab the haul, load it into the van disguised as the bounce house delivery vehicle, and we're gone before they finish singing 'Happy Birthday.'" "And the bounce house?" "There isn't one. I told her it was broken. Kids are getting extra goody bags instead." Bill stared at her. "You're a monster." "I prefer 'entrepreneurial opportunist.'" Molly grinned. "So, are you in or what?" Bill sighed, reaching for his lukewarm coffee. "Fine. But if any kid cries, I'm out." "Deal." They clinked their mismatched mugs together, sealing their pact to ruin what would surely be the most memorable birthday party Westlake had ever seen.