Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8TKRV2XFBRPEJECQTA022E

The back room of the 'Lucky Duck' diner smelled of old grease and desperation, which Molly found appropriate. She smoothed the hand-drawn map on the sticky formica table. Bill stared at it, then at her, his expression a masterpiece of disbelief. “A children’s birthday party,” he stated flatly. “You’ve finally lost it. The big score. The retirement job. Is it a diamond-encrusted piñata?” “It’s Timothy Henderson’s seventh birthday,” Molly said, tapping the map. “His father is Arthur Henderson. CEO of Henderson Tech. The presents aren’t just teddy bears, Bill. They’re miniature gold bullion, limited-edition smart watches, and—according to my source—a solid silver replica of a starship from that show he likes.” Bill sipped his terrible coffee. “So we’re stealing from a seven-year-old.” “We’re liberating luxury goods from a grotesque display of affluence,” she corrected. “The mark will be emotionally compromised by sugar and a clown named Bingo. Security will be lax.” “What about the parents?” “Distracted. There’s a champagne fountain for the adults. By 3 PM, they’ll be debating private schools too loudly to notice anything.” Bill studied the map. “And our entry?” “We pose as party staff. You’ll be the assistant to the magician I hired.” “I what? I don’t know magic!” “You don’t need to. You just carry the box of doves. At 3:15, during the ‘Abracadabra Ambush’ routine, you’ll fake a dove-related injury and create a diversion in the garden. I’ll slip into the gift room, swap the presents for the weighted decoy bags in your dove box, and be out before the cake is cut.” “Doves? Where do I even get doves?” “I got them. They’re in the car. A bit moody, but they’ll do.” Bill put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. The weight distribution… the doves… what if a kid sees me?” “You’re in a giant rainbow waistcoat and a hat with a feather. You’ll blend. The key is commitment. Now, the extraction. We load the loot into the magician’s van, which I’ve modified with a false compartment behind the rabbit cages.” “Of course there are rabbits.” “There are always rabbits, Bill. It’s cover.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “This is a tight, twelve-minute window. In and out. Clean.” Bill sighed, the sound of a man defeated by both his life choices and the prospect of handling poultry. “And what’s my cut?” “Twenty percent.” “Twenty? You’re the magician!” “I’m the brains, the planner, and the one who knows how to pick a lock shaped like a cartoon robot. Twenty is generous. Don’t make me use the disappearing act on your share.” He stared at the map again, at the carefully drawn ‘X’ marking the gift table. “Okay. Fine. But if one of those doves pecks me, I’m out. And I’m keeping the hat.” Molly smiled, rolling up the map. “The hat was always yours, Bill. It’s part of the illusion.”