The van smelled faintly of stale fries and desperation. Molly traced a line on a blueprinted map of the ‘Wiggles World Fun Centre’ with a scarlet fingernail. “Right, the objective is the ‘Gift Grotto’. It’s a temporary structure at the far end of the ball pit, staffed by one harassed teenager in a giant, foam squirrel suit.” Bill peered over her shoulder, his brow furrowed. “A squirrel? What happened to clowns? Clowns are classic. You know where you are with a clown. Deep pockets, inherent sadness.” “It’s a woodland theme, Bill, keep up. The squirrel is our point of vulnerability. We need to neutralise it.” “Neutralise? You mean we have to fight a giant squirrel? Because I didn’t pack a nutcracker, Molly. This is getting personal.” “No fighting. We’re going to distract it. You’re going to have a sudden, violent allergy to its tail.” Bill gaped at her. “An allergy? To a foam tail?” “Don’t be so literal. You’ll start sneezing, you’ll flail, you’ll create a diversion. I’ll slip behind the grotto and use the universal key.” “The universal key? You brought the bolt cutters?” “No, Bill, the other one. Charm. And a bobby pin. While you’re having your allergic episode, I’ll pop the lock on the back door. The presents are pre-sorted by age and gender. We grab the five-and-up boxes. Less plastic junk, more potential resale value.” “Five-and-up? What about the toddler presents? I’m rather partial to a shape sorter.” “We are not stealing a shape sorter! We are professionals, Bill. We’re going for the high-value items. The remote-control cars, the big Lego sets, the things that fund future heists. Not things that fund us trying to fit a square peg into a round hole for the rest of our natural lives.” “Fine. So, I distract the squirrel, you jimmy the lock, we grab the good stuff. What about the kids? Won’t there be, you know, children?” “Of course there’ll be children. They’re the entire reason for the party. But they’ll be distracted by the magician. A man called ‘Marvo the Mediocre’. If he’s as mediocre as his name suggests, they’ll be more interested in the sticky buns.” “And if he’s not?” “Then we rely on chaos. A children’s party is a vortex of chaos, Bill. We just have to be the most organised people in the vortex. Now, ready your sinuses. We move in five. And for heaven’s sake, try to look like you’re enjoying yourself. We don’t want to stand out.”