The van smelled of stale Cheetos and desperation. Bill adjusted his clip-on bowtie in the rearview mirror, peering at his reflection with the gravity of a man preparing for a deep-sea demolition. Beside him, Molly was aggressively stuffing a pair of colorful silk scarves into the sleeve of her oversized dinner jacket. "The target is six years old, Bill. Do not lose focus." "I am focused, Molly. I’m just saying, the intel on the bouncy castle was spotty at best." "It’s a standard primary color inflatable. Why does the bouncy castle matter?" "Tactical height advantage. If I can take the high ground, the toddlers can’t reach my shins." "You’re an amateur. We aren't fighting them. We are entertaining them until their tiny, sticky hands drop the goods." "Entertaining? I’m the getaway driver, not a clown." "Today, you are 'The Great Bill-ini'. Put the nose on." Bill looked at the foam red sphere in her hand as if it were a live grenade. "I’m not wearing the nose, Molly. It compromises my peripheral vision. How am I supposed to spot the cake-cutting ceremony if I’m staring at a cherry?" "The cake is the distraction! That’s when we hit the gift table. It’s located in the sunroom, adjacent to the juice box station." "What about the mother? The dossier says she’s a Pilates instructor. She’s got core strength and zero patience." "I’ll handle the mother. I’ve programmed a series of distractingly complex questions about gluten-free catering. It’ll buy you three minutes." "Three minutes? To bag a mountain of Lego sets and glitter kits? I need five." "You get three. Any longer and the sugar rush peaks. Once those kids hit the peak, it’s a mosh pit of tears and vomiting. We need to be out before the first tantrum." "Did you pack the smoke bombs?" "They aren't smoke bombs, Bill. They’re canisters of pressurized confetti. It creates a visual screen and hides our exit." "It’s humiliating. My father stole the Romanov stamps. I’m stealing a remote-controlled dinosaur." "That dinosaur retails for eighty-nine dollars. Now, do you have the rabbit?" "The rabbit is in the hat, but he’s disgruntled. He nipped me during the briefing." "That’s because you didn't give him his carrot. Look, the plan is simple. You go in, perform the 'Disappearing Coin' routine—which, by the way, you need to actually do this time, not just drop it—and I’ll sweep the sunroom." "And if the birthday boy sees me?" "Then you give him the 'Coin Behind the Ear' trick and run for the fence." "This is the most dangerous job we've ever done. Those kids have no respect for the craft." "Just put the nose on, Bill. It’s showtime."