Molly crouched behind Mrs. Henderson's prized rhododendron bush, studying the chaos unfolding in the backyard through her cracked opera glasses. Dozens of sugar-fueled seven-year-olds careened around a bouncy castle like tiny, screaming pinballs while harried parents clutched coffee cups and checked their watches. "This is it, Bill," she whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Operation Birthday Bandit is a go." The device crackled. "Are you absolutely certain about this, Molly? It's a children's party. There's something rather unseemly about—" "Unseemly?" Molly adjusted her black knit cap, which kept sliding over her eyes. "Bill, we're professional thieves. We crossed the unseemly line when we decided to make burglary our career path." The present table gleamed like a treasure chest in the afternoon sun. Gift bags stuffed with tissue paper stood sentinel around elaborately wrapped boxes topped with enormous bows. Molly's experienced eye catalogued the loot: definitely some electronics based on the packaging shapes, probably toys worth hundreds, possibly even cash tucked inside birthday cards. A soccer ball bounced off her head. "Sorry, lady!" A gap-toothed kid in a Superman costume waved cheerfully before chasing after the ball. Molly's walkie-talkie buzzed again. "The birthday boy's mother just went inside," Bill reported from his position behind the garden shed. "Father's distracted by two children who appear to be constructing some sort of mud fortress. Window of opportunity approaching." The bounce house temporarily blocked most parents' view of the gift table. Molly took a deep breath, channeling every heist movie she'd ever watched. Unfortunately, those movies never featured obstacles like juice boxes and playground equipment. She army-crawled across the lawn, her elbows getting soaked by recent sprinkler activity. A cluster of kids ran past, their sugar highs reaching dangerous altitudes. One nearly trampled her hand while chasing bubbles. "Status update," Bill's voice crackled through static. "Almost there," Molly panted, reaching the edge of the patio. "These kids move like caffeinated squirrels." The present table loomed ahead. Molly calculated she could grab maybe four gifts before anyone noticed, assuming the bouncy castle continued providing adequate visual cover and the mud fortress held the father's attention. She rose into a crouch, muscles tensed for action. "Excuse me, are you Tommy's aunt?" Molly froze. A woman in yoga pants and oversized sunglasses stood three feet away, holding a sippy cup and looking mildly confused. "I'm sorry, what?" "Tommy's aunt Lisa? He said his aunt was coming, and you were hiding behind the hedge, so I thought maybe you were trying to surprise him?" Molly's mind raced through possible responses. Claiming to be Aunt Lisa seemed risky without knowing Tommy's surname or whether Aunt Lisa was expected to arrive via shrub reconnaissance. The walkie-talkie chose that moment to emit Bill's panicked voice at maximum volume: "Molly! Abort mission! The birthday clown just spotted me!"