The van smelled like stale coffee and regret, which Molly considered appropriate given their current circumstances. She adjusted her binoculars and watched the suburban house across the street, where a inflatable dinosaur bounced lazily in the front yard. "Run it by me again," Bill said, scratching his beard. "We're really doing this." "We're really doing this. The Pemberton kid is turning seven, and his father happens to be the most successful fence in the tri-state area. Word is he's giving his son a very special present." "Special how?" Molly lowered the binoculars. "A thumb drive containing account numbers for every major player in the underground. Pemberton thinks hiding it in a toy is clever. I think it's an opportunity." "Among what, Lego sets and stuffed animals?" "Exactly. Nobody suspects the birthday party. We blend in, grab the goods, disappear before the cake cutting." Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't like stealing from kids, Molly. It feels wrong, even for us." "We're not keeping the toys, you enormous softie. We take them, find the thumb drive, return everything else anonymously. The children will think it's magic." "Or deeply traumatic." "Children are resilient. Remember when we accidentally locked that scout troop in the museum? They got a pizza party and therapy. Win-win." Bill pulled out a crumpled paper from his jacket. "Fine. What's our cover?" "Entertainment. You're doing balloon animals." The look Bill gave her could have curdled milk at forty paces. "I don't know how to make balloon animals." "You know how to make a snake, right? Everything's a snake. Dog? Long snake with legs. Giraffe? Tall snake with spots. The kids won't care." "What are you doing while I'm disappointing children with my snake collection?" Molly smiled and produced a glittering wand from her bag. "Princess Sparkle, face painter extraordinaire. I'll have access to every corner of that house while parents beg me to paint butterflies on their precious angels." Bill stared at the wand, then at Molly, then back at the house where more minivans were arriving. "You've actually lost your mind." "I've found my calling. The presents will be in the master bedroom, away from grabby hands. You cause a distraction around three fifteen, I make my move, we rendezvous at the bounce house." "What kind of distraction?" "Get creative. Pop some balloons dramatically. Start a conga line. I don't care as long as it pulls attention." Bill watched a mother carry an enormous wrapped box toward the front door. Somewhere inside, children were already screaming with joy or sugar or both. "If I end up on a registry for this, I'm blaming you." "Noted. Now put on your costume." She tossed him a bag containing the most aggressively colorful clown outfit he had ever seen. Bill held it up like it was radioactive. "There's a wig in here." "Rainbow. It brings out your eyes." "I genuinely hate you." "Save it for the memoirs. We go in ten minutes."