Molly slapped the blueprint against the rusty wall of the surveillance van. It was, strictly speaking, a placemat from a local pizza parlor, but she had circled the target zone in red Sharpie with terrifying precision. The smell of stale coffee and high-octane anxiety filled the cramped space. "All right, listen up because I’m only going to say this once," Molly said, her voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "The drop occurs at fourteen-hundred hours. We have a sixty-second window before the cake cutting ceremony begins." Bill squinted at the grease-stained paper, rubbing his jaw. "Is the pepperoni grease the bouncy castle or the patio?" "The grease is the patio, Bill. Focus. The bouncy castle is the kill zone. One wrong step in there and you’re bounced right into the view of the Warden." "Mrs. Higgins?" "The Warden," Molly corrected sharply. "She has eyes everywhere. You think she’s just sipping Chardonnay? She’s scanning for weakness. She smells fear and cheap polyester." Bill adjusted the straps of his black tactical vest, which looked suspiciously like a repurposed baby carrier painted matte black. "I don’t feel good about the clown, Molly. Bubbles. He’s got a look in his eye. Unpredictable." Molly scoffed, checking the magazine of her modified Nerf gun. "Bubbles is an amateur. He makes balloon animals, Bill. We take things. We’re professionals. Now, what’s the entry vector?" "Through the hedges," Bill recited, albeit reluctantly. "I create a diversion near the piñata while you flank the gift table. I grab the loot bag, you secure the wrapping paper perimeter." "Wrong," Molly snapped. "If you touch the piñata, you trigger a sugar frenzy. Do you want twenty first-graders swarming you like zombies in a shopping mall? We go in through the garage side door." She pointed a gloved finger at a smear of tomato sauce near the edge of the map. "The garage leads to the kitchen. The kitchen leads to the living room. The living room holds the payload." "And the payload is?" "Legos," Molly whispered reverently. "The Death Star set. Four thousand pieces of pure, resaleable plastic gold." Bill sighed, looking out the window at the manicured suburban lawn adorned with pastel balloons. "I brought the smoke bombs." "Good," Molly nodded. "They’re actually just sparklers taped together." "It’ll have to do. Remember, the extraction needs to be clean. No crying children, no tripped alarms, and absolutely no cake unless it’s chocolate." "I thought we were strictly business." "I have low blood sugar, Bill, don't push me. Now, are the getaway scooters fully charged?" "Batteries are at ninety percent. But Molly, look at that dog." Bill pointed to a Golden Retriever napping in the sun. "That’s a beast." "Code name: Fluffy. Use the sausages if he wakes up. You ready to make history?" "I’m ready to steal a toddler’s birthday," Bill grunted, pulling a ski mask over his face. It had kitty ears. "Let's rob this kindergarten blind."