Molly smoothed the creased photocopy of the satellite map, her eyes reflecting the blue glow of the laptop screen. Outside, the distant mournful cry of a train rattled the dirty window, harmonizing with the hum of the server rack. She traced the thermal outline of the manicured lawn with a gloved finger, pausing only to highlight the gazebo where the swarm of toddlers were tucked in for their nap. "The perimeter is technically secure, but that dense evergreen hedge is a major problem," she muttered, recalculating the vectors with unnecessary precision. Bill sat on a crate of deflated balloons, aggressively eating a slice of cold pepperoni. "What's the hedge?" "The hostages," Molly replied, crossing her legs. She pulled a pair of magnetic gloves from her pocket. "I'm going in." "Is that the inflatable pony ride?" Bill asked. "No, that's the security system." She checked her wrist. "Just be quiet." "What about the cake?" Bill whispered. "The cake is the target. We are the sugar." Molly adjusted her mask. "Let's go."