Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5R05GGQA0WBWCVBBWC4VS

“Okay, the target is a six-year-old’s birthday party,” Molly said, spreading a crayon-drawn map on the table. “A kid’s party? What’s the take, half-eaten cake and sticky fingerprints?” “No, you philistine. The Smythe kid. Lavish gifts. Rumor has it there’s a solid gold rattle.” “A rattle? Bill, we don’t do rattles. We do jewels, bearer bonds.” “Think small, think adorable. High-end wooden toys, limited-edition stuffed animals. The resale market for nostalgic rich people is booming. We go in disguised as clowns.” “I’m not being a clown, Molly. I have a pathological fear of balloons.” “Fine. You’ll be the magician’s assistant. I’ll be the magician. During the big ‘disappearing rabbit’ trick, you’ll ‘accidentally’ knock over the gift table. Chaos ensues. We scoop and scoot.” “And the extraction?” “Piñata. We hollow it out, fill it with loot, and I’ll ‘triumphantly’ break it open. Parents will think the gifts are just fancy confetti. We walk out smiling.” Bill sighed. “This is a new low. Last month it was a museum. This month, a juice-box-fueled crime scene.” “It’s a soft target, Bill. The biggest threat is a soggy toddler with a loaded diaper. Now, can you fit into sequined hot pants?”