"So, the target is a seven-year-old's birthday bash at the Wellington estate," Molly said, squinting at her laptop screen. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. "Rich folks, old money. Kid's name is Jasper." Bill paced the cramped motel room, cracking his knuckles. "A kid's party? That's low, even for us." "Low risk, high reward. These Wellington types don't buy Fisher-Price, Bill. We're talking designer toys, gaming systems, probably an iPad or two." "Still feels wrong." Bill flopped onto the bed, making the ancient springs protest. "What's the security situation?" Molly scrolled through her notes. "One rent-a-cop at the gate, but he'll be focused on checking party invitations. House has an alarm system, but it'll be disabled during the party. Too many tiny humans running in and out." "What's our way in?" Bill asked, now examining the ceiling water stains with sudden interest. "We're going as the backup entertainment." Bill shot upright. "We're what now?" "The party has a circus theme. I called the entertainment company, pretending to be Mrs. Wellington's assistant. Said they needed additional clowns," Molly grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "They were fully booked, so we're stepping in as independents." "Clowns? No way. Absolutely not. I draw the line at clown makeup." "Fine. You can be the juggler." "I can't juggle!" "Learn. YouTube exists for a reason." Bill groaned dramatically. "When's this horror show happening?" "Saturday, noon until three. We arrive at one, when the gift table is fully loaded but before cake. We perform for thirty minutes, then one of us creates a distraction while the other hits the gift table. We stuff the good stuff in our prop bags and disappear before anyone notices." "What kind of distraction are we talking about?" Bill asked warily. "Nothing traumatic. Maybe you 'accidentally' release some doves?" "Where would I get doves?" "Figure it out, Bill. That's your department." Bill sighed deeply. "This is ridiculous. We used to rob galleries and jewelry stores. Now we're stealing Legos from children." "Designer Legos," Molly corrected. "And probably a new PlayStation. Besides, these rich kids have too much anyway. We're teaching them about privilege." "Oh, very altruistic. I feel better already," Bill said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Molly closed her laptop with a snap. "Look, it's an easy job. In and out in under an hour. No security cameras in the backyard where the party's happening. The fence is blind on the east side, perfect for a quick exit." "Fine," Bill conceded. "But I want seventy percent." "Sixty-forty, same as always." "I'm the one learning to juggle!" "Fine. Sixty-five, thirty-five, and you spring for dinner tonight." Bill considered this. "Deal. But if one kid cries because of us—not counting the birthday boy when he finds his presents gone—I'm out." "Fair enough," Molly said, extending her hand. "Partner?" Bill shook it reluctantly. "Partner. Now pass me that takeout menu. If I'm going to be a criminal clown, I need pad thai."