The van smelled like stale corn chips and broken dreams, which Molly supposed was appropriate for two adults who had sunk low enough to rob a seven-year-old's birthday party. Bill spread the hand-drawn map across the dashboard, squinting at his own handwriting. The map featured what appeared to be a lopsided rectangle with smaller rectangles inside it, a large X near something labeled "prezents," and for reasons Molly couldn't fathom, a small drawing of a dinosaur. "Why is there a dinosaur on the map, Bill?" "That's the bouncy castle. It's dinosaur-themed. The Patterson kid is really into dinosaurs." Molly rubbed her temples. She had trained under the legendary cat burglar Francois DuPont in Monaco. She had lifted a Fabergé egg from a moving train. Now she was studying a crayon map of a suburban backyard. "Walk me through the security situation again." Bill pulled out a crumpled notebook. "Okay, so we've got approximately fifteen kids, ages six to eight. Hyped up on sugar. Unpredictable. Loud. Then there's Mrs. Patterson, who according to my reconnaissance is quote very intense about party games unquote." "And Mr. Patterson?" "He'll be manning the grill. I've timed his burger-flipping intervals. We've got roughly ninety seconds between flips where his back is completely turned." Molly had to admit, despite everything, Bill's dedication to surveillance was admirable. Misguided and sad, but admirable. "The presents will be on a folding table near the back fence," Bill continued. "Standard gift wrap, some bags, a few of those fancy boxes from the department store. I'm estimating thirty to forty presents based on the class size." She peered through the binoculars at the modest two-story home across the street. Streamers were already going up. A woman who had to be Mrs. Patterson was directing two teenage helpers with the intensity of a general preparing for war. "What's our exit strategy if things go sideways?" Bill grinned. "That's the beautiful part. I've hired a clown." Molly slowly lowered the binoculars. "Excuse me?" "Sparkles the Magnificent. He's our distraction. Kids go crazy for balloon animals, and while everyone's watching him twist a poodle, we slip in through the side gate, grab the goods, and disappear." "Does Sparkles know he's part of a heist?" "Sparkles knows he's getting paid two hundred dollars to show up early. What Sparkles doesn't know won't hurt him." The sheer audacity of the plan was almost beautiful in its stupidity. They were going to rob children using a clown as cover. This was either the lowest point of her career or some kind of twisted masterpiece. She watched a minivan pull up to the house, disgorging three children clutching wrapped packages. One box was enormous, nearly as big as the kid carrying it. "That's a bicycle," Bill whispered reverently. "Has to be." Molly sighed, checked her watch, and started the van. Sometimes rock bottom had a basement, and apparently she had found the stairs.