The blueprints were spread across the greasy tailgate of the plumbing van, a vehicle that smelled faintly of diesel and regret. They weren't so much blueprints as a child’s crayon drawing of a suburban backyard, complete with a wobbly yellow sun and a dog that looked like a lumpy, misshapen potato. Molly, her face a mask of grim determination that was entirely wasted on the current situation, pointed a gloved finger at the paper. “Phase one is the distraction. At 3:15 PM, I deploy the swarm of remote-controlled, glittery butterflies from the oak tree.” Bill peered at the drawing, his brow furrowed. “Glittery butterflies? The invitation said ‘magical unicorn’ theme. They might clash. We don’t want a thematic panic.” Molly’s eye began to twitch. “They’re six, Bill. They’ll be mesmerized by the shiny things. That’s your window. You move in, grab the presents, and head for the extraction point—the hedge.” “Right, the hedge. But what about the cake? The diagram labels a seven-foot ‘Dora the Explorer’ cake. That’s a high-value asset. Are we just leaving it?” “We are not stealing the cake, Bill! It’s messy and it’s not on the manifest. We’re after the presents, the loot, the unopened boxes of plastic joy.” “Fine, no cake. But the bouncy castle… do we have a protocol? It seems structurally unsound. A tactical liability.” “Just stay away from the bouncy castle!” “And the clown? Is he armed? He’s holding a balloon animal that looks suspiciously like a poodle. Could be a weapon.” “There is no clown, Bill!” Molly slumped against the van’s warm fender, the sheer absurdity of it all crashing over her. They were the team that had lifted the Star of Zanzibar. Last month. Now they were debating the threat level of a man in face paint and a balloon poodle. Bill cleared his throat. “Okay. No castle, no clown, no cake. Just presents. One last thing. I, uh, may have already told the mom I’m your Uncle Barry and that I’m here to help with the games. She seemed really nice.” Molly stared, her jaw hanging open. “Uncle Barry?” He nodded. “She offered me a juice box. It was berry punch.”