"Check the perimeter," Bill whispered, adjusting the focus on his binoculars from the safety of their battered van. Molly sighed, slumping lower in the passenger seat and clicking her tongue against her teeth. "Bill, we are parked outside a gymnastics center. The perimeter is a chain-link fence and a shrub that looks like a dead cat. Can we please just go in?" "Negative. Reconnaissance is ninety percent of the operation. Look at the entry point. Double doors. Heavy foot traffic. We need to blend in." "We are wearing black turtlenecks," Molly pointed out, gesturing with exasperation at her chest. "We blend in about as well as a bruise on a banana. Who wears a turtleneck to a six-year-old’s birthday party?" "It is tactical stealth wear! It screams 'cool mysterious uncle'." "It screams 'unlicensed plumber'. Who is the target, anyway?" Bill lowered the binoculars, his eyes wide with a fervor that unsettled her. "Timmy. AKA, The Toddler. Intel suggests he is the local kingpin. He has a haul this year. I’m seeing a Lego Star Wars set, a bicycle with training wheels, and rumors of a Nintendo Switch." "A Switch? That is resale gold," Molly admitted, her interest finally piquing. "Exactly. But we have to be smooth. We go in, we social engineer, we extract the goods, we vanish. Like ghosts." "Like ghosts who steal candy," Molly corrected dryly. "What is the exit strategy?" "Simple. The fire door near the bounce house. I will create a diversion." Molly rubbed her temples, feeling a headache forming. "What kind of diversion?" "I am thinking... a clown meltdown. High emotion. Confusion. Tears. While the parents are distracted by my theatrical breakdown regarding the price of balloon animals, you grab the loot." "You do not know how to make balloon animals, Bill." "That is the meltdown part! The frustration of the artist! It is performance art." "You are insane. What about the security detail? There is bound to be a dad on grill duty." "I have accounted for Grill Dad," Bill said gravely, pulling a crumpled fast-food wrapper from his pocket. "We bring a better steak. We offer a trade." "We are bribing a father with a burger during his own son’s party? That is dark, Bill. Even for us." "It is not bribery; it is a distraction technique. He goes for the gourmet patty, we go for the goods. It is the perfect crime. Clean. Professional." "Nothing about this is professional. We are stealing presents from children. We are going to get put on a list, and not the nice one." "We are redistributing wealth! To us! Besides, they will not even notice. They have short attention spans. In one ear, out the other." "They are six, Bill. They have memories like elephants. They will hunt us down." "Then we move to a new city! Think of the payout, Molly! Think of the Legos!" "Fine," Molly growled, checking her watch. "But if a child kicks you in the shin, I am leaving you behind." "Noted. Deploying the turtleneck. Operation Plastic Bricks is a go."