The surveillance van smelled like wet wool and bad decisions. Bill adjusted the focus on his binoculars, staring at the suburban ranch house across the street. It was a fortress of joy, ringed by a white picket fence and guarded by a golden retriever that currently looked asleep on the job. A brightly colored banner flapped in the wind, declaring "Happy 6th Birthday Timmy!" "The perimeter is breached," Bill muttered, watching a clown exit a minivan. "Entertainment has arrived. That’s the distraction we needed." "Stick to the timeline," Molly snapped, hunched over a tablet displaying a floor plan of the living room. "The clown buys us five minutes of panic. Nobody likes clowns, Bill. It’s universal. While the kids are screaming, we hit the pile." "I’m still not convinced about the entry," Bill said, lowering the binoculars. "Walking in there wearing ski masks is going to cause a scene. A very loud, legal scene involving the police." "That’s why we’re going in tactical-casual," Molly replied, reaching into the duffel bag at her feet and tossing him a pair of oversized plastic sunglasses and a bright orange t-shirt. "We’re distant cousins. From out of town. Very out of town. Just keep your mouth shut and look confused." "I can do confused," Bill said, pulling the shirt over his head. It was tight in the shoulders. "But what about the payload? That pile of gifts is huge. There’s a box there the size of a compact car. I can’t carry that and look like a confused relative." "Prioritize," Molly commanded, checking her reflection in the side mirror to ensure her fake mustache was straight. "We take the high-value items. The gaming consoles. The expensive LEGO sets. Leave the clothes. Nobody wants to steal clothes from a six-year-old." "And the bike?" Bill asked, pointing at a shiny red bicycle leaning against the garage. "That’s the crown jewel. That’s at least two hundred bucks on the fence." "Too loud. The pedals will click. We need silent, soft goods," she said, opening the van door. The heat of the afternoon rushed in, along with the distant sound of children cheering. "Wait for the piñata smash. That’s the audio mask. When the candy hits the pavement, we move." "You know, my nephew is turning six next month," Bill mused, stepping out onto the asphalt. "He likes dinosaurs." "Then maybe we’ll find him something nice," Molly said, locking the van behind them. "Focus, Bill. We’re not here for the charity. We’re here for the payout." "I just hope they have cake," Bill whispered as they approached the gate. "I didn't eat lunch." "Get the toys first, you glutton. We’ll get cake on the getaway," Molly said, forcing a wide, fake smile onto her face as she marched toward the front door. "Showtime."