Bill smoothed the wrinkles from the blueprint, crouching low behind the rose bushes. He pointed a gloved finger at the bright pink structure vibrating in the yard. The extraction point is the bouncy castle, he said. Molly adjusted her night-vision goggles, even though it was noon. A bouncy castle? Are you insane? It creates a diversion, Bill insisted, watching a toddler face-plant into the mesh. Kids bounce, adults watch kids, we slip out with the loot. The loot being LEGO sets and sticky hands, Molly muttered. We used to rob banks, Bill. Banks have lasers, he countered, checking his stopwatch. Timmy’s sixth birthday has a distracted clown and lukewarm punch. Molly sighed, the weight of her kevlar vest feeling excessive for this suburban warfare. What about security? I’ve neutralized the threat. Bill pulled a squeaky rubber chicken from his utility belt. The family dog is easily bribed. She stared at the yellow toy. That’s the master plan? A rubber chicken? It is tactical rubber, he corrected, looking offended. Also, I memorized the birthday song. We blend in during the cake cutting. Molly rolled her eyes. Fine. But if I get taken down by a piñata, I’m leaving you. Deal, Bill whispered. Let’s get those gift cards.