Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08MQNFVSRFWW5PCKYV69W9

Molly peered through the rain-streaked café window at the house across the street, where balloons bobbed against the fence like oversized fruit. “That,” she said, stirring her tea with a butter knife, “is the target.” Bill squinted. “It looks like a pirate ship exploded in a nursery.” “Children’s birthday party,” Molly said. “Second floor lounge full of presents, first floor full of parents, garden full of sugar and panic.” Bill took a bite of his custard tart. “You said ‘presents’ like a connoisseur.” “I’m a professional,” Molly said. “A very underappreciated professional.” He swallowed thoughtfully. “What’s the angle?” “The angle,” she said, leaning in, “is that everyone will be distracted by clowns, face paint, and a small person in a crown screaming for cake. We slip in, collect the gifts, and leave before anyone notices the mountain has gone missing.” Bill frowned. “It’s a children’s party. Won’t they notice the mountain?” “Not if we take it carefully.” He glanced back at the house. “How many presents are we talking?” Molly produced a folded notebook from her coat. “According to my reconnaissance, twenty-six items. One battery-powered dinosaur. Two scooters. Four board games. A suspiciously large teddy bear. And one parcel so big it may be a child or a very committed pillow.” Bill whistled. “That’s a lot of loot.” “Don’t say loot,” Molly hissed. “It makes you sound like a pantomime burglar.” Bill grinned. “Sorry. A lot of festive acquisitions.” “Better.” He tapped the window. “What about security?” Molly looked offended. “Bill, I never go into a job blind.” “I’m relieved.” “I went in today as a balloon artist.” Bill choked on his tea. “You what?” “I wore a blue wig, a badge that said ‘Auntie Peppa,’ and I twisted two poodles, a sword, and something I described as a dolphin but which the children accepted as ‘space worm.’” Bill stared. “You can make balloon animals?” “I can make balloon apologies,” Molly said. “The key is confidence.” He rubbed his chin. “And the adults bought it?” “The adults were busy comparing gluten-free icing. One father asked me if I ‘worked in events.’” “And?” “I told him yes, emotionally.” Bill laughed so hard he had to set down his tart. “That’s beautiful. So you mapped the place?” Molly nodded. “Hallway clear. Coat rack by the front door. Present table in the conservatory. One uncle asleep in the kitchen chair. One golden retriever with trust issues.” “Any cameras?” “A baby monitor in the lounge, but it’s facing a wall and a stuffed owl.” Bill raised his eyebrows. “Why the owl?” “I moved it,” Molly said. “To make the room seem haunted. It was on theme.” He stared at her, delighted and horrified in equal measure. “You are impossible.” “And yet,” she said, “you’re still here.” Bill drummed his fingers on the table. “All right. We go in during cake?” “No,” Molly said. “During the singing. Everyone will be standing, emotionally vulnerable, and holding plates.” “That seems cruel.” “We’re thieves, Bill, not librarians.” He leaned closer. “What’s my role?” “You,” Molly said, “will carry the sacks.” “Sacks?” “Two large sacks.” Bill blinked. “For children’s presents?” “Do you want them in your pockets?” He thought that over. “No.” “Exactly. You’re also on lookout.” “I’m not naturally subtle.” “Then don’t be subtle. Be a man urgently checking the sky for weather.” Bill nodded slowly. “That I can do.” Molly smiled. “Good. When I say ‘happy birthday,’ you enter through the side gate.” “And if someone asks who I am?” “You’re the clown’s brother.” Bill recoiled. “There’s a clown?” “There’s always a clown.” He looked again at the house, where a burst of laughter rose over the fence. “You realize this is morally questionable.” Molly finished her tea and stood, smoothing her gloves. “Bill, we are stealing from a room full of wrapping paper, jam, and novelty socks. Morality took the afternoon off.” He stood too, more slowly. “You make it sound almost noble.” “I’m excellent at framing,” she said. He picked up the empty sack from under the table and slung it over his shoulder. “All right, partner.” Molly tucked her notebook away and checked the time. “Ready?” Bill took one last look at the balloons swaying in the drizzle, then grinned like a man heading into trouble with excellent footwear. “Ready to rob a birthday.” Molly opened the café door and let the cold air rush in. “Then let’s go give the birthday child a memorable surprise.”