The safehouse smelled less like high-stakes intrigue and more like a combination of overcooked cabbage and Bill’s damp socks. On the kitchen table, a blueprint was pinned down by a half-eaten ham sandwich. "Is the target confirmed?" Molly asked, adjusting her tactical goggles. "Target is a six-year-old named Kevin," Bill replied, pointing a greasy finger at a suburban split-level on the map. "He’s a known hoarder of high-value plastic." "And the defenses?" "Two bouncy castles out back. High-velocity bubble machines. A rogue clown named Giggles who’s a former paratrooper." Molly leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Do we have a visual on the loot?" "Intel says we’re looking at three LEGO Star Destroyer kits, a motorized Jeep, and at least four envelopes stuffed with crisp twenties," Bill said. "It’s the score of the century." "Assuming we can get past the primary obstacle," Molly sighed. "The juice box situation." "I’ve scouted the perimeter," Bill assured her. "The Capri Suns are poorly guarded. Most of the parents will be distracted by the artisanal pizza wagon in the driveway." "And the height requirement?" "I’ve got the stilts ready," Bill said, tapping a pair of wooden poles leaning against the fridge. "We dress as a very tall, very lumpy Uncle Steve." "Absolutely not. We discussed this, Bill. We are going in as the entertainment." "The balloon animal angle?" "Exactly. No one suspects the guy making a poodle." "I can’t make a poodle, Molly. I can only make a very long, sad sausage." "Then it’s a genetic mutant poodle. Stay focused. What’s our extraction point?" "The sandbox near the slide," Bill said. "We drop the bags over the fence into the neighbor’s bushes. My cousin is waiting there in a repurposed ice cream truck." "Is it refrigerated?" "Why does that matter?" "The cake, Bill. We aren't leaving without that three-tier chocolate buttercream." "That wasn't in the original brief." "It’s a secondary objective," Molly hissed. "A tactical snack." "Fine. But if the clown spots us, I’m not staying behind to fight him." "If Giggles engages, use the confetti cannon. It’s non-lethal but highly disorienting." "What about the kids? They’re like piranhas once the sugar hits." "We use the emergency distraction," Molly said, sliding a silver canister across the table. "Is that... a professional-grade bubble solution?" "The high-viscosity stuff. It’ll create a shimmer screen. They’ll be mesmerized for at least three minutes." "That’s just enough time to clear the gift table," Bill whispered, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Do we have the code for the bounce house?" "Bill, you just unzip it." "Right. Tradecraft. I forgot." "Synchronize watches," Molly commanded. "The party starts at two. We strike during the Happy Birthday song." "Why then?" "No one looks at the door when there’s a flaming cake in the room." "Let’s go get that Jeep," Bill said. "I’ve always wanted a convertible."