"So we hit the birthday party at 2 PM Saturday," Molly whispered. "When all the kids are doing the piñata thing?" Bill asked. "Exactly. Maximum chaos, minimum witnesses." "What's the security like?" "Amateur hour. One mom by the door, totally distracted by her phone." "Perfect. I'll slip through the back near the kitchen." "The presents are stacked in the living room. We need garbage bags, maybe four." "Four? How many presents are we talking about?" "It's a six-year-old's party, Bill. His parents are insane. I counted thirty-two wrapped boxes." "Thirty-two? What kind of haul are we looking at?" "Action figures, video games, that new talking robot thing." "The one that costs two hundred bucks?" "That's the one." "Molly, this is genius. Pure genius." "Don't celebrate yet. We need an exit strategy." "The side gate by the driveway?" "Too exposed. We go through the garage, out to the alley." "What about the family dog?" "Already handled. I'll have treats." "You thought of everything." "That's why I'm the brains here." "When do we start?" "Saturday at 1:45. Don't be late."