Molly adjusted her night vision goggles and squinted at the suburban bungalow across the street. "You sure this is the place? Looks like Fort Knox with all that crepe paper." Bill unfolded a crumpled invitation on the dashboard. "Definitely. Tommy's seventh birthday. Guard dog in the backyard, perimeter secured with balloons, and according to my intel, a Pin the Tail on the Donkey setup that suggests at least fifteen highly unpredictable hostiles." "Hostiles? They're children, Bill." "Small, fast, and morally flexible. Last week at the McAllister job, one bit my ankle." "You were dressed as the Easter Bunny." "Irrelevant. Now, entry point: front door is compromised by that terrifying clown making balloon animals. I suggest we go through the garage." Molly sighed. "Bill, we're stealing presents from a first grader. This isn't the Hope Diamond." "Respect the craft, Molly. Look at this loot list. Nintendo Switch, three LEGO Death Stars, and something called a 'Furby.' Street value is astronomical." "The Furby's vintage?" "Terrifying. Moves without batteries. But valuable." "Fine. What's the extraction plan?" "Standard birthday protocol. You pose as the pizza delivery person—" "I hate the pizza costume." "—distracting the adults with pepperoni while I slip into the present pile. I’ve prepared decoy gift bags filled with socks and educational materials. We swap, we exit, nobody cries until Tuesday." Molly stared at him. "Educational materials?" "Flashcards. Very disappointing for a seven-year-old. Creates a diversion while we escape." "You're overthinking this." "You're underthinking it. Did you see the bouncy castle? That's our biggest threat. If we get cornered in there, we're dead. Bouncing is disorienting." "We won't go in the bouncy castle." "Famous last words. The sugar content alone at these events creates superhuman strength. One juice box and little Tommy could bench press us both." Molly checked her watch. "Party starts in ten. Where's your costume?" Bill pulled a sequined jacket from the backseat. "I'm going as a magician. Specifically, the Amazing Balthazar. I do card tricks, hypnotize the parents, and make fifteen wrapped presents disappear into our van." "You can't do card tricks." "I can flip them dramatically. Close enough." "And if someone asks you to pull a rabbit out of a hat?" "That's when you create the distraction." "How?" Bill handed her a whoopee cushion. "Classics work for a reason. Target the birthday boy's grandmother. Chaos ensues. We vanish in the confusion." Molly pocketed the whoopee cushion and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. "I can't believe we're doing this." "Believe it. This is the big leagues, Molly. Sure, it's not the Crown Jewels, but those LEGO sets are retired sets. Do you know what sealed Hogwarts castles go for on the secondary market?" "Enlighten me." "College tuition. For a hamster. Possibly two hamsters if the box is mint condition." "Let's just get it over with. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "If you actually have to entertain these kids with magic, please don't saw anyone in half." "No promises. I’ve been practicing on watermelons. The technique is surprisingly transferable." "To children?" "To small, wiggling targets. I'm just saying, if the birthday boy gets grabby with the presents, he might accidentally get bisected." "We are not bisecting children, Bill. That's a hard line." "Fine. No saws. Just the disappearing act." "Good." "And Molly? Watch out for the face painters. They're the lookouts. I can smell the acrylic from here." "You're paranoid." "I'm prepared. Now, do you have the gift bags?" "In the trunk." "Educational and disappointing?" "Flashcards and socks, just like you said." "Perfect. Let's go steal some joy."