Molly lowered the binoculars, a vein twitching in her temple. Through the van’s greasy window, the target house pulsed with the shrieks of a dozen six-year-olds. She took a steadying breath. "Walk me through the infiltration one last time, Bill." Across from her, Bill proudly smoothed a map drawn in crayon on a napkin. He then practiced a shifty, squirrel-like twitch for effect. “Easy. Peak chaos is 1400 hours. The magician provides our window of opportunity.” “Wizzo the Wonderful?” “The very same,” Bill said. His grin was far too wide. “While he saws a teddy bear in half, I make my move.” Molly rubbed her eyes. “And your disguise is still…” “Nutty the Squirrel! It’s perfect camouflage.” He patted the grotesque furry head in the footwell, whose dead plastic eyes stared blankly upwards. “They will never suspect a single thing.” “They’ll suspect a six-foot squirrel stealing the entire present pile.” “Nonsense. I will distract them with a jaunty song about acorns. What is the exfiltration plan?” “We grab the loot and run. We are not using the bouncy castle to launch ourselves to freedom.”