# The Birthday Bandit Blueprint Molly spread the photographs across the kitchen table, each one capturing a different angle of the Henderson residence. The afternoon light caught the rim of her coffee mug as she tapped a manicured finger against a shot of the backyard. "The party starts at two," she said, not looking up. "Security camera covers the front entrance, but look at this side gate." Bill leaned in, his weathered face creasing into something resembling a smile. At sixty-three, he'd forgotten more about stealing than most people would ever know. He studied the image intently, already mapping routes through his mind like a chess grandmaster. "How many kids are we talking?" he asked. "Forty. Maybe fifty if they invited the whole soccer team," Molly replied, finally meeting his eyes. "But here's the beautiful part—complete chaos. The magician arrives at 2:15, which means everyone's distracted." Bill whistled low. "Professional." "I've been casing this for three weeks," Molly continued, a note of pride in her voice. "The presents are wrapped and stacked in the garage until the gift-opening ceremony at 3 o'clock. That's our window." "Forty-five minutes," Bill mused, rubbing his stubbled chin. "What about the parents?" "Mostly in the house. Kitchen, dining room. The mother hired a catering company, so they're running around like headless chickens. The father will be in the backyard filming everything on his phone like a maniac." Bill chuckled. "They always do." Molly stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the parking lot below. "We go in through the side gate at 2:17. You head straight to the garage while I create a distraction—something minor, nothing that brings serious attention." "What kind of distraction?" Bill asked, though experience told him not to ask too many questions about Molly's methods. "Slip-and-slide malfunction. The thing's going to mysteriously spring a leak right in front of the magician's illusion box. Parents will be so busy making sure nobody drowns, they won't notice anything else." Bill grinned despite himself. "You're devious." "You're just now figuring that out?" Molly spun back around. "The van will be parked on Elm Street. You get the presents loaded—we're talking video games, electronics, those expensive gaming headsets—and I'll be right behind you. In and out in thirty-five minutes." Bill studied her carefully. "Why children's birthday presents? You've got government secrets, bank vaults, museum pieces—and you want to rob a suburban six-year-old's party?" Molly's expression softened for just a moment. A flicker of something almost human crossed her face before she buried it again. "Because nobody expects it," she said simply. "And because somewhere in Henderson's garage is a limited-edition retro Nintendo set that kid's been wanting since birth. His mother couldn't find one anywhere." Bill stood slowly, understanding dawning. He extended his hand across the table. "I'm in," he said. Molly shook it firmly.