Bill nervously polished a pair of binoculars, fogging the lenses with his anxious breath. Below them, a bouncy castle wobbled in the sun-drenched yard. Molly ignored him, her finger tracing a route on a blueprint scrawled on a pizza box lid. The ink was a mixture of ketchup and permanent marker. She pointed a chewed-up pen at a drawing of a clown. "He's our primary obstacle. My intel says his balloon animal routine lasts precisely seven minutes. That’s our window of extraction." "What's his threat level?" Bill whispered, peering through the smudged glass. "High. He has a squeaky flower. Potentially disorienting." "We should have brought earplugs. What about the parents?" "Distracted by small talk and cheap Chardonnay. The real danger is the birthday boy, Timmy. He's six. Unpredictable. Armed with a juice box." "Diabolical," Bill muttered, his eyes wide. "So, the target is the present pile?" "Codenamed 'The Glitter Mountain'. We go in fast, we go in clean. And for God's sake, Bill, don't get distracted by the cake this time." "No promises," he said, watching a woman carry out a multi-layered dinosaur cake. "No promises at all."