Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table. "So the target is Timmy's seventh birthday party. Security is tight." "How tight are we talking?" Bill leaned forward. "One grandmother at the front door. She's got cataracts but hearing like a bat." "Lovely. What about the presents?" "Stacked in the living room. Behind the bounce house." "There's a bounce house inside?" "These people have money, Bill. That's why we're hitting them." "Fair enough. Entry point?" "Backyard gate. We go in dressed as clowns." "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns. That's why nobody questions them. They just want them gone." "That's actually brilliant." "I know. Now, the tricky part is the dog." "There's a dog?" "Golden retriever. Name's Biscuit." "Aggressive?" "Aggressively friendly. He'll blow our cover with love." "I'll bring treats." "Bring many treats. This dog is a bottomless pit." "What's our exit strategy?" "The magician arrives at three. During his act, everyone watches. We load the van." "We have a van?" "We have my nephew's minivan. It has juice stains and smells like failure." "Perfect cover." "That's what I said."