The van smelled like stale coffee and regret, which Molly had come to recognize as the official scent of their operations. She squinted through the binoculars at the suburban house across the street, where balloon animals bobbed in the afternoon breeze and a banner proclaimed HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY MADISON in aggressive pink letters. Bill unfolded a hand-drawn map that looked like it had been sketched by someone having a mild stroke. He smoothed it across the dashboard with the reverence of a general reviewing battle plans. "Okay, so the presents are in the living room," he said, tapping a wobbly rectangle. "Stacked by the fireplace according to my source." "Your source is a seven-year-old." "Madison's friend Tyler. Kid drives a hard bargain. Cost me three chocolate bars and a promise to steal his sister's diary." Molly lowered the binoculars and stared at her partner with the weariness of someone who had made several wrong turns in life. Bill had mayonnaise on his collar from lunch, and his balaclava was on inside out. These were the details that kept her up at night. "There are approximately fifteen children in there," she said. "Hopped up on sugar. Possibly armed with party favors." "Which is why we wait for the magician." "The magician." Bill's eyes lit up with the dangerous gleam of someone who believed they had thought of everything. He pulled out a crumpled flyer and held it up triumphantly. "The Amazing Roberto. Shows up at three. Does his act in the backyard. Every kid follows him out like he's the Pied Piper. Parents too. We slip in through the garage, grab the goods, and disappear." Molly considered this. Outside, a minivan pulled up and disgorged four more children who sprinted toward the house like tiny, screaming missiles. A mother followed behind, carrying a gift wrapped in paper covered with dinosaurs wearing party hats. "What about the dog?" "Chihuahua. I've got bacon bits." "The alarm system?" "Disconnected it this morning while dressed as a cable repair guy." She had to admit the plan had fewer holes than usual. Their last job had involved breaking into a retirement home to steal a prized bingo set, and Bill had somehow ended up teaching a water aerobics class for two hours before she could extract him. "And the getaway?" "Ice cream truck. Parked around the corner. Bought it at auction last week." "Does it work?" "The music does. Engine's questionable." Molly rubbed her temples. Somewhere in another timeline, she had become an accountant. She could feel that version of herself judging her harshly from across the dimensional divide. "Fine. But I want it on record that stealing from children makes us objectively terrible people." Bill shrugged and checked his watch with theatrical precision. "We're redistributing birthday wealth. Very noble when you think about it." "I'm trying very hard not to think about it." The Amazing Roberto's van rounded the corner, painted with stars and promises of wonder. Molly pulled on her gloves.