# The Birthday Job Molly spread the grainy surveillance photos across the hotel room table, her reading glasses sliding down her nose as she examined each one. The Henderson residence loomed large in the images, a three-story colonial monstrosity with more windows than sense. "This is insane," Bill said, pacing near the window. "We've robbed museums. We've cracked penthouse safes. Now we're stealing from a seven-year-old?" "Not from a seven-year-old," Molly corrected, tapping a photo with her finger. "From the seven-year-old's parents, who apparently think it's appropriate to drop forty grand on birthday presents. There's a PS5, a hoverboard, a drone, and something called a Mega Buildmax Ultimate Construction System." "I don't even know what that is," Bill muttered. "Neither do I, but it's worth three thousand dollars." Bill picked up another photo showing the wrapped presents stacked like a small mountain beneath an absurdly tall Christmas tree. "How are we supposed to get all of this out of the house? We'd need a moving van. The job's impossible." Molly smiled, the same smile that had gotten them out of seventeen sticky situations. "Not impossible. The party's Saturday from two to five. Thirty kids, three exhausted parents, two underpaid clowns, and one magician who'll be completely useless. The chaos alone is our greatest ally." "The parents will notice," Bill protested. "Presents don't just vanish." "You're thinking about this wrong." Molly stood and walked to the window, looking out at the city below. "We don't take everything. We take the high-value items and gift-wrap replacements. By the time the party ends and parents pick up their kids, the swaps won't be obvious. We've got forty-eight hours before anyone checks the boxes properly." Bill considered this, his resistance beginning to crumble. "What about the magician?" "I'll distract him. You handle the clowns." "How do you distract a magician?" Molly grabbed her jacket. "Ask him to explain how his illusions work. They love talking about themselves. You could ask a magician about balloon animals and he'll somehow work in a lecture about misdirection theory." "This is different from our other jobs," Bill said quietly. "Morally speaking." "Morally speaking, they're insured. Morally speaking, they won't remember the specific presents in five years, but they'll definitely remember having them. Morally speaking, we're Robin Hood adjacent." Molly grabbed her keys. "Also, we're stealing from rich people at a child's birthday party. That's not a heist. That's performance art." Bill finally cracked a smile despite himself. "When's the party?" "Saturday, two p.m." "And our code name?" Molly grinned wickedly. "Operation Piñata." Bill groaned at the pun, but he was already mentally cataloging the best exits from the Henderson residence.