# The Birthday Job Molly spread the floor plan across the table. "The target is a six-year-old's birthday party. Thirty wrapped presents under the tree in the living room." "That's low," Bill said, scratching his chin. "We've stolen from museums." "Museums don't have juice boxes and a bounce house," Molly replied coolly. "Those are tactical advantages." Bill leaned forward. "What's the security situation?" "Distracted parents, overwhelmed daycare workers, and one dog named Mittens who's more interested in cupcakes than guarding anything." "When do we go in?" Bill asked. "Saturday at two o'clock. Peak chaos. The magician will be performing tricks—everyone's focused on him." Bill nodded slowly. "I'm assuming we need disguises?" "Obviously. I'm going as a clown named Bobo. You're an overly enthusiastic uncle who nobody remembers inviting." "This is insane," Bill muttered, though a grin appeared on his face. "This is genius," Molly corrected. "We grab the presents, disappear into the crowd, load the van parked outside, and vanish like birthday party professionals." Bill stood up, extending his hand. "I'm in. But I'm not changing my diapers if things go wrong."