Molly tapped a greasy spot on the napkin spread between them. “Phase one: Infiltration. I’ve timed the bounce house deflation cycle. It’s a seven-minute process.” “Does it have a slide?” “What?” “The bounce house. A slide would change our exfiltration options considerably.” “Bill, we are not playing on the bounce house. We are using its scheduled deflation as a distraction. While the parents are dealing with a dozen overwrought children mourning the loss of structural integrity, you, code name 'Ferret'…” “I thought I was ‘The Cobra’.” “You’re not stealthy enough to be a cobra. You’re a ferret. You get in, you grab shiny things, you get out. As I was saying, you will bypass the primary obstacle.” “The dad?” “Worse. Patches the Clown.” Bill’s fork clattered onto his plate. “A clown? You didn’t say anything about a clown. That’s a deal-breaker, Mol. You know my history with face paint and oversized shoes.” “It’s a birthday party for a seven-year-old named Leo. Of course there’s a clown. He’s stationed by the gift table. He’s our gatekeeper.” “What’s his threat level?” “He’s currently making a poodle out of a pink balloon. I think we can handle him. While you’re skirting Patches, I, code name ‘Magpie,’ will initiate the secondary diversion at the cake table.” “What kind of cake? Please say it’s ice cream cake.” “Why on Earth does that matter?” “If it’s ice cream cake, the melting provides a natural time limit. It adds urgency. It's just smart planning.” Molly sighed, rubbing her temples. “It’s a supermarket sheet cake with a picture of a cartoon spaceship. The diversion is me ‘accidentally’ knocking the juice dispenser onto the birthday boy’s grandmother.” “That’s cold, Molly.” “It’s effective. Grandma Doris gets sticky, Leo gets hysterical, and Patches is forced to make a sympathy balloon giraffe. That’s your window. The presents are stacked against the far wall. I’ve mapped the payload. We’re looking at three laser tag sets, a drone, and something called a ‘Galactic Glitter Unicorn Stable’.” “A glitter unicorn stable…” Bill’s eyes glazed over. “That sounds like a high-value asset.” “Focus. You have a ninety-second window to bag the assets and retreat to the doggy door. I’ll meet you at the extraction point behind the azalea bush.” “What about the piñata?” “What *about* the piñata?” “It’s shaped like a donkey. It’s probably full of untraceable, high-sugar currency. We can’t just leave it.” “We are not stopping to whack a piñata with a stick, Bill.” “It feels unprofessional to leave loot on the table.” “The mission is the presents. Get the unicorn, forget the donkey.” “Fine. But if I see any party bags on the way out, I’m exercising tactical freedom.”