Molly spread the blueprint across the sticky diner table, pushing aside half-eaten pancakes. "Okay, so the party starts at two. That gives us exactly ninety minutes to infiltrate, locate the gift table, and extract the merchandise." "Merchandise?" Bill squinted at the crayon-drawn map. "You mean the Transformers and Barbies?" "High-value collectibles, Bill. That limited edition Pokémon set alone could fetch three hundred on eBay." "It's a seven-year-old's birthday party." "Exactly. These suburban parents go nuts. Last week's intel from the Goldberg bar mitzvah confirmed it—we're talking smart tablets, gaming consoles, maybe even some jewelry if little Madison's friends have rich grandmas." Bill traced his finger along the escape route. "Through the bounce house?" "It's genius. Who's going to suspect two adults in a bounce castle? We'll blend right in." "Molly, I'm six-foot-four and have a beard. I don't blend with seven-year-olds." "That's why you're wearing this." She pulled out a rainbow wig and red nose from her bag. "Absolutely not." "Bill, every heist requires sacrifice. I'm wearing a tutu." "Why do we need costumes? Can't we just walk in like normal adults?" "Oh sure, let me just stroll into a kid's party uninvited. 'Hello, I'm here for the presents, not in a creepy way.' Think, Bill!" "Fine. But I'm not doing balloon animals." "You don't have to. You're the entertainment while I work. Just juggle or something." "I can't juggle." "Then learn! We have—" she checked her watch, "—eighty-seven minutes." "This is insane. We robbed a casino last month. Now we're hitting Princess Emma's unicorn party?" "Market's tough, Bill. Criminal overhead's through the roof. You know what my landlord's charging now? Besides, intelligence indicates her dad's a tech executive. Premium loot potential." "Intelligence? You mean the invitation you found at Starbucks?" "Reconnaissance, Bill. Professional reconnaissance." Bill sighed, studying the blueprint again. "What's this X by the kitchen?" "Cake. We'll need to create a diversion during the candle-lighting ceremony. Classic misdirection." "We're not ruining a kid's birthday cake!" "Who said anything about ruining? I'm thinking small fire, nothing major. Maybe knock over some juice boxes. Bit of chaos, parents distracted, boom—present acquisition window." "Molly, no fires." "Small fire?" "No fires!" "Fine. But you're improvising the distraction then." "I'll pretend to choke on cake." "That's your big plan? Fake choking?" "You got a better idea that doesn't involve arson?" "Arson's a strong word. I prefer 'controlled combustion event.'" "No combustion! Look, I'll create a scene, you grab the gifts. Five minutes max. We meet at the bounce house for extraction." "Through the neighbor's yard?" "Over the fence, quick sprint to the van. I've got the engine running on remote start." "What if someone recognizes us?" "Bill, please. After the accordion incident at the Rothstein wedding, I think our reputation's moved past recognition into legend." "Don't remind me." "Hey, we got the wedding gifts, didn't we?" "And a restraining order!" "Details." Molly folded the blueprint, tucking it into her purse. "You ready for this?" Bill stared at the red nose in his hands. "Let's steal some toys."