Molly pressed her binoculars against the window of the stolen ice cream truck, watching children stream into the colonial-style house across the street. Balloons bobbed from every available surface, and a inflatable bouncy castle dominated the front lawn like a neon fortress. "This is it," she said. "The Henderson kid's birthday party." Bill adjusted his fake mustache in the rearview mirror, though Molly had told him three times it made him look like a divorced accordion player. "You sure the intel's good? Last time we broke into a kid's party, it was all homemade cookies and participation ribbons." "Trust me. Henderson's parents are tech millionaires. That gift table's gonna be loaded with iPads, gaming consoles, maybe even a hoverboard." "Hoverboards aren't real hoverboards. They're just expensive scooters that catch fire." "Even better. We can flip them as fire hazards to insurance fraudsters." Bill drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, eyeing the chaos of arriving minivans and harried parents. A clown car pulled up, and an actual clown emerged, armed with balloon animals and what appeared to be deep existential dread. "What's our cover story again?" Molly reached into the back and pulled out two cardboard boxes. "We're the entertainment. Magical Mike and his Mystical Assistant. We do the show, case the present situation, then make our move during the bouncy castle rush." "I hate being the assistant." "You lost the coin toss." "You used your weighted coin." "Prove it," Molly said, pocketing the binoculars. She slapped on a glittery top hat that had seen better decades. "Remember, we're professionals. We get in, we perform adequate magic, we grab the goods during the great bounce house migration, and we get out." They crossed the street carrying their boxes, nodding at the clown who was already looking defeated by a group of sugar-loaded seven-year-olds. The front door was open, and inside, the Henderson house was a shrine to excess. The gift table groaned under wrapped boxes, easily twenty or thirty presents stacked like a department store display. "Holy jackpot," Bill whispered. Mrs. Henderson appeared, wearing the desperate smile of someone who'd had too much coffee and not enough sleep. "Are you the magicians?" "Magical Mike and assistant," Molly said in what she hoped was a mysterious voice. "We're here to astound and amaze." "Great, you're early. Can you wait in the kitchen? We're still doing pizza." They shuffled toward the kitchen, passing the gift table. Bill's eyes were gleaming with the special kind of madness that only valuable electronics could inspire. Through the window, Molly could see the bouncy castle waiting, patient as a synthetic accomplice. "This is going to work," she muttered. "What was that?" "I said, let's hope we don't get caught by a bunch of eight-year-olds." Bill grinned, adjusting his terrible mustache one more time. "Where's your sense of adventure?"