Molly unfurled the blueprint, a crayon drawing of a suburban house. "Operation Sugar Rush is a go." Bill squinted. "Remind me of the target's profile." "Felix, turning six. High on fizzy pop, low on object permanence. The vault is the present pile." "And security?" "Heavy. A bouncy castle blocks the north entrance. The perimeter is… sticky. From a juice spill." "Hostiles?" "One clown. He makes balloon animals. That's our in. I'm his new, disgruntled assistant." "And my cover?" "You're Uncle Jerry. They've never met the real Uncle Jerry." "What if the real Uncle Jerry shows up?" "He won't. I sent him a flyer for an all-you-can-eat shrimp buffet across town." "What's guarding the loot?" "Aunt Carol. Her only weakness is gossip. We plant a rumor that the clown is dating the face-painter." "That's diabolical. I love it." "The diversion creates our window. We go in during the birthday song. Maximum auditory cover." "And the getaway?" "The ice cream truck." "His cut?" "A box of rocket pops. The good ones, with the gumball nose." Bill nodded slowly. "He drives a hard bargain." "He knows his worth."