Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAHX0HNA2WNG6TWVRD8SFA

“Right, so let me get this straight,” Bill said, meticulously polishing his sunglasses with a slightly grubby handkerchief. “We’re robbing a…birthday party?” Molly rolled her eyes, picking at a loose thread on the ripped knee of her jeans. “It’s not ‘robbing’, Bill. It’s…strategic gift acquisition. And yes. A birthday party. Little Timmy Henderson is turning seven. Seven! The age of peak present density.” “Peak present density?” “It's a thing! Trust me. His parents throw lavish affairs. Last year, apparently, there was a bouncy castle shaped like a dinosaur and a magician who only did card tricks involving farm animals. The presents were…substantial.” Bill lowered his sunglasses, peering at her skeptically. “Substantial as in…Xboxes? Or substantial as in a lifetime supply of glitter glue?” “A bit of both, judging by the intel. Mostly toys, though. High-end stuff. Remote control cars, those robot dogs that do tricks, potentially even a small trampoline.” “A trampoline? Molly, we’re hardly equipped for trampoline theft.” “We’re equipped for *present* theft, Bill. We’ll roll it up. It's not the trampoline itself we want, it’s what's *on* the trampoline. A miniature pirate ship, apparently. Solid mahogany. Very marketable.” “Okay, look. I've done museums, banks, even that weird pigeon fancier with the jeweled bird feeders, but a kids’ birthday? This feels…beneath us.” “Beneath us? Bill, the margins on these presents are phenomenal. Think about it! Untraceable, no serial numbers on most of this junk. We fence it to the right people, we’re looking at a serious payout.” “The ‘right people’ being Mrs. Periwinkle and her suspiciously low prices?” “Don't knock Mrs. Periwinkle. She asks no questions! And she provides excellent lemon drizzle cake in exchange.” “Lemon drizzle cake is not a suitable payment for compromising my criminal integrity.” “Your criminal integrity was compromised when you started stealing garden gnomes, Bill.” Bill spluttered. “They were limited edition! And incredibly well painted!” “Right. Focus. We go in during the ‘Pass the Parcel’ game. Maximum distraction. You create a diversion, I bag the presents.” “A diversion? What kind of diversion? Should I…accidentally release a swarm of bees?” “No! Absolutely not! Bees are bad PR. And frankly, I'm allergic.” “Fine. What then? I juggle chainsaws?” “Just…trip over something. Fall dramatically. Feign a medical emergency. Anything that makes everyone look at *you* and not the gift table.” “Feign a medical emergency? I haven’t faked a seizure since the Biscuit Baron job.” “And it was a brilliant seizure, by the way. Very committed.” “I almost swallowed my tongue.” “Details, details. The point is, you distract. I acquire. We meet back at the van. Easy peasy.” “Easy peasy, robbing a seven-year-old? Molly, I’m having a bad feeling about this.”