Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ94R8MCNC9WNC0R8X1W66P

Molly crouched behind the garden hedge, her all-black outfit somewhat undermined by the fact she had stepped in a dog mess on the way over. Bill knelt beside her, holding a hand-drawn map of the premises that looked suspiciously like it had been sketched on the back of a burger wrapper. The target was number fourteen Primrose Avenue. Inside, approximately twenty-three six-year-olds were currently shrieking through a game of musical chairs while a traumatised clown attempted to maintain crowd control. The presents were piled in the hallway. Unguarded. Beautiful. Molly studied the entry points with the cold precision of a professional. The side gate was unlocked. The parents were distracted. Everything was falling into place. "Ready?" she whispered. Bill adjusted his balaclava and nodded gravely. The two of them had robbed banks, cracked safes, and once successfully stolen an entire garden shed. Nothing in their considerable criminal experience had prepared them for the sight that greeted them as they pushed open the gate. The birthday boy was standing directly in their path, holding a juice box, staring at them with enormous unblinking eyes. "Mum," he called casually over his shoulder. "There are burglars."