The blueprint was spread across the grimy diner table, covered in coffee rings. Bill tapped a greasy finger on the diagram of a bouncy castle. “The security is a joke, Molly. A six-year-old in a tiara is the head of operations. Our biggest threat is a sugar crash.” Molly chewed on a pen cap, her eyes narrowed. “It’s not the guards, Bill, it’s the noise. How are we supposed to move presents with thirty kids screaming ‘Hot Potato’? We need a diversion. Something big.” “Like what? A piñata full of wasps?” Bill snorted. “Better,” Molly said, a grin spreading across her face. “We tell the birthday boy we saw a real, live unicorn in the backyard. They’ll stampede. We’ll have a clear five minutes to load the van.” Bill stared at her, then slowly nodded. “You’re a genius. A horrible, wonderful genius.” “Get the glitter,” Molly said, sliding out of the booth. “We go in soft.”