"You cannot be serious," Molly said, lowering her binoculars. "A children's birthday party?" Bill adjusted his black ski mask, which he'd insisted on wearing despite the ninety-degree weather. "Think about it. Rich neighborhood, all those parents trying to outdo each other with presents. We're talking top-shelf LEGO sets, those fancy dolls that cost more than my car payment, maybe even some electronics." "Bill, we're professional thieves. We've stolen art from museums, diamonds from vault boxes—" "And now we're broke because you insisted on investing our last score in cryptocurrency." "Bitcoin was supposed to go to the moon!" "It went to the toilet, Molly. The toilet." Bill pointed at the sprawling backyard across the street, where rainbow balloons bobbed above a bounce house. "Look at that setup. They've got a petting zoo. You know what kind of money these people have?" "The kind that hires security for their eight-year-old's party?" "I already checked. Just one bored teenager managing the bounce house." Molly groaned. "Fine. What's your brilliant plan? We can't exactly blend in." "Way ahead of you." Bill reached into his bag and pulled out two violently purple wigs and matching polka-dot outfits. "We're entertainment. Bubbles and Squeaky, children's party clowns." "Absolutely not." "Molly—" "I have a master's degree in fine arts!" "And I have rent due tomorrow! Look, we go in, do some balloon animals, terrible magic tricks. While the kids are distracted, I'll scope the present table. You create a diversion—" "What kind of diversion?" "I don't know, juggle something. Fall into the cake. Use your imagination." "This is insane. What if someone recognizes us?" "In these outfits? My own mother wouldn't recognize me." Bill held up the purple wig. "Come on. Twenty minutes, in and out. We grab the gift bags too—probably full of iTunes cards and cash." "What about the children? We're really going to steal from children?" "They're eight, Molly. They'll get over it. Besides, half these gifts are going to sit in closets anyway. We're doing them a favor. Teaching them about disappointment early." "That's the worst rationalization I've ever heard." "Is it worse than losing our apartment?" Molly snatched the wig from his hands. "If this goes sideways, I'm telling everyone this was your idea." "When has anything I've planned ever gone sideways?" "The casino job. The museum heist. That thing with the penguins—" "Those penguins were unpredictable! Nobody could have seen that coming." "They're penguins, Bill! They waddle! How unpredictable can they be?" "Are we doing this or not?" Molly looked at the party again. A clown car had just pulled up, and two actual clowns emerged. "Bill?" "Yeah?" "Did you happen to check if they already hired entertainment?" Bill's face went pale beneath the ski mask. "Oh no." "Bubbles and Squeaky, I presume?" "Run?" "Run." They grabbed their bags and sprinted toward the car, purple wigs flying behind them like demented flags of surrender.