Molly pressed her eye against the gap in the fence, surveying the bouncy castle and clusters of screaming six-year-olds. "This is it, Bill. This is the big one." Bill adjusted his sunglasses nervously. "Are you absolutely certain about this? It's broad daylight. There are witnesses everywhere. Small, sticky witnesses." "That's exactly why it's perfect," Molly said, pulling out a crumpled party invitation. "Nobody suspects anything at a kid's birthday party. We walk in, grab the presents, walk out. Easy." "Where did you even get that invitation?" "Found it stuck to my shoe outside the library. Fate, Bill. Pure fate." Bill peered over her shoulder at the backyard full of children wielding foam swords. "I don't know, Molly. What if someone asks us whose parents we are?" "We'll say we're with the entertainment." "What entertainment? We don't have an act." Molly grinned. "You're looking at half of the world's most dangerous mime duo." "I can't mime!" "Then you'll be the straight man. Come on, the present table is right there by the patio. In and out, two minutes tops." Bill wiped sweat from his forehead. "What if there's a dog? Kids' parties always have dogs. I'm terrible with dogs." "Since when?" "Since that Pomeranian in Des Moines identified me in a lineup!" "That was never proven," Molly said, straightening her jacket. "Now stop stalling. Are you in or out?" "Can we at least leave one present? For the birthday kid?" "What are you, Robin Hood?" "I'm just saying, we're about to traumatize a child on their special day." Molly sighed. "Fine. We'll leave the biggest one." "The biggest one probably has a bike in it!" "Okay, we'll leave the smallest one." "That's probably socks!" "Bill, I swear to god—" "What about medium-sized?" Molly grabbed his collar. "We are professional thieves, not present evaluators. We take the haul, we sort it later, we give you one toy to donate to charity so you can sleep at night. Deal?" Bill nodded reluctantly. "Deal. But if anyone asks, I'm Uncle Frederico, the children's balloon artist from Portugal." "Why Portugal?" "I don't know, it sounds exotic!" "You don't know anything about Portugal!" "Neither do six-year-olds, Molly!" A woman's voice called out from the yard. "Okay, everyone! Time for cake!" Molly's eyes lit up. "That's our cue. All the adults will be corralling kids toward the cake. The present table will be completely unguarded." "This still feels wrong." "You can think about your feelings when we're counting our score," Molly said, pushing open the gate. "Now smile and wave. We're party guests." Bill plastered on an unconvincing grin as they strolled toward the chaos, trying desperately to look like they belonged at a princess-themed birthday party while wearing all black. "Next time," he muttered, "we're robbing a bank like normal people."