The blueprints were a work of art, spread across the greasy hood of the van. Molly, her face illuminated by a single battery-powered lamp, traced a gloved finger over the layout of a suburban backyard. Across the street, a brightly coloured bouncy castle sagged like a defeated dragon, its air pump humming a mournful tune. Bill, on the other hand, was meticulously arranging a collection of cheese puffs into a tiny, orange pyramid. “The target is a ‘Timmy’s 7th Birthday Extravaganza’,” Molly hissed, pointing at the schematic. “The parents are distracted by the bouncy castle. That’s our window.” “Do you think they’ll have those little hot dogs? The ones in the barbecue sauce?” Bill asked, wiping a smear of orange dust from his chin strap. “We are not there for the canapés, Bill. We are there for the payload. The presents.” “Right, right. The loot. I call dibs on anything with a ninja on it.” “You’ll get what you’re given. Now, the primary objective is the gift table, located adjacent to the unicorn-shaped cake. I’ll deploy the Acoustic Distraction Device.” “The party horn? Cool.” “It’s a sophisticated tool of misdirection. While they’re looking for the phantom honker, you use the grappling hook to snag the goodie bags from the tree.” Bill’s eyes lit up. “What about the piñata? That thing’s gotta be loaded.” “It’s a high-risk, low-reward scenario, Bill. Too much shrapnel. We stick to the plan. In and out in ninety seconds, before they even cut the cake.” Molly tapped a small, silver canister. “I’ll use the Cryo-Lock Disengager on the back gate if we need a quick exit.” It was a can of compressed air for cleaning keyboards, but the label had been peeled off. Bill nodded sagely, impressed. He picked up a grappling hook, which looked suspiciously like a giant, metal coat hanger tied to a rope. He gave it an experimental swing, nearly taking out the van’s side mirror. Molly sighed, a sound of profound and eternal suffering. This was the price of working with a professional.