Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table and tapped her finger on a wobbly circle labeled PREZENTS. "This is it, Bill. The Henderson kid's seventh birthday party. Saturday at two. We're looking at approximately thirty gifts, conservatively wrapped, moderate to heavy tape usage." Bill squinted at the map. "Did you draw this yourself?" "I liberated it from the family refrigerator during reconnaissance. The kid's got potential. Notice how he marked the bounce house as a potential obstacle." "That's a dinosaur, Molly." "It's a bounce house shaped like a dinosaur. Focus, Bill. Now, what do we know about the security situation?" Bill pulled out a grease-stained notebook. "One father on grill duty, which means he'll be distracted by hamburger logistics for at least forty minutes. Mother's running point on cake distribution. There's a grandmother, but my sources say she naps between two-thirty and four." "What sources?" "The grandmother. I asked her directly. Lovely woman. She thinks I'm auditing her water meter." Molly nodded appreciatively. "Good initiative. What about the target demographic?" "Fifteen to twenty children, ages six to eight. Hopped up on sugar, low attention spans, zero threat assessment capabilities." "Never underestimate a sugar-fueled seven-year-old, Bill. I once saw one take down a mall Santa." "Was that you?" "I was nine, and he had it coming. Now, entry points. I'm thinking we go in through the side gate disguised as entertainment." Bill's face brightened. "I've still got that clown costume from the Pemberton job." "Absolutely not. We agreed never to speak of the Pemberton job. Besides, you terrified those children." "My balloon animals were structurally sound!" "You made a balloon guillotine, Bill." "It was historically accurate!" Molly rubbed her temples. "We're going as magicians. I've got two capes and a top hat that collapses for easy concealment of stolen goods." "Can I have a wand?" "You can have a wand." "Can it shoot confetti?" "It can shoot whatever you want as long as you stay focused on the extraction. We load the presents into the magic box, wheel it out to the van, and we're gone before they cut the cake." Bill studied the map again. "What's our exit strategy if things go sideways?" "Balloon release. I've arranged for two hundred helium balloons to deploy from the bounce house dinosaur at exactly three-fifteen. In the chaos, we vanish." "That's beautiful, Molly." "I know. Now, most important question. What's our moral justification for stealing birthday presents from a seven-year-old?" Bill didn't hesitate. "The Henderson kid pushed my nephew off the swings last month. Exposed kneecap. Six stitches." "Perfect. I can sleep soundly." Molly rolled up the map. "Saturday at two. Don't be late, don't wear the clown costume, and for the love of all that's holy, no balloon guillotines." "You're no fun anymore." "I'm plenty of fun. I'm just professionally fun."