“Okay, Bill. See the face painter?” “The one making a terrifying butterfly on that crying kid?” “That’s our window. I’ve swapped the orange squash with fizzy pickle juice. You just have to announce that refreshments are served.” “Pickle juice? That’s inhuman, Molly.” “It’s tactical, Bill. While they're all spitting and wailing, I move on the present pile.” “What's the prime asset?” “A ‘Captain Cuddington's Friendship Ferry’. Comes with six posable hamsters.” “Hamsters? I thought we had standards.” “The fence pays top dollar. Now, what's your job?” “Unleash the pickle apocalypse.” “And the extraction signal?” “You leading a frantic, tear-stained Macarena back to the van.” “Exactly,” Molly said, cracking her knuckles. “They never suspect the Macarena.”