Molly pressed her binoculars against the chain-link fence, watching the backyard transform into a garish wonderland of streamers and inflatable bounce houses. Somewhere beneath that mountain of wrapped packages lay their prize: a limited edition gaming console that some eight-year-old definitely did not deserve. Bill crouched beside her, his knees cracking like bubble wrap. He had insisted on wearing all black despite the blazing afternoon sun, and sweat poured down his face like a broken faucet. "Twenty kids minimum," Molly muttered. "Plus parents. This is going to be trickier than the museum job." A clown emerged from the house carrying balloon animals, and Bill shuddered involuntarily. His fear of clowns was legendary among their crew, stemming from an incident at his nephew's birthday that nobody was allowed to mention. The caterers arrived next, wheeling in a cake shaped like a dinosaur. Molly pulled out her notebook and began sketching the layout, noting entry points and potential obstacles. The bouncy castle could provide cover. The piñata would create a useful distraction. "We go in during cake time," she decided. Bill nodded grimly, already dreading the squealing children and sticky fingers that awaited them inside.