Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0APBEA4F2BCFHR0GMHCBWY

Molly crouched behind the hedge across from the community center and adjusted the tiny headset clipped to her ear. The building glowed with paper lanterns, balloon arches, and the kind of cheerful chaos that made a professional thief feel both underdressed and morally judged. Bill peered through a gap in the hedge, his black suit already dusted with powdered sugar from an earlier “calibration” at the cupcake table. “Tell me again,” he whispered, “why we’re doing this at a children’s party.” Molly checked the watch on her wrist, though she was really checking whether anyone was watching her check the watch. “Because no one guards the presents.” Bill frowned. “That feels like the sort of sentence that should have a trap in it.” “It does have a trap,” Molly said. “The trap is that it’s a children’s party, and everyone inside is too busy singing about a smiling dinosaur to suspect us.” From inside, the muffled sound of “Happy Birthday, Captain Pancake!” drifted through the windows, followed by several shrieking voices and one adult trying unsuccessfully to project authority over confetti. Bill straightened his tie. “I still think a jewelry store would be cleaner.” Molly gave him a look. “A jewelry store has cameras, lasers, and security guards with names like Brick. This has helium balloons, a bouncy castle, and a distracted clown with five face paints on one cheek.” “Three face paints,” Bill said. “And one mustache he drew on himself.” “Exactly,” Molly said. “The clown is a professional enabler.” Bill glanced toward the gift table visible through the foyer window. It was stacked with bright boxes, ribbons, and enough gift bags to suggest the child in question had either been very beloved or had somehow bribed the neighborhood. “We’re really taking all of it?” he asked. “Seems excessive. Even for us.” Molly grinned. “We are not thieves, Bill. We are curators of opportunity.” “That’s a terrible euphemism.” “It’s a better one than ‘snatching a mountain of toy cargo from six-year-olds.’” Bill rubbed his chin. “That does sound worse when you say it aloud.” “Good. Then we’re on the same page. You take the side entrance, I handle the distraction.” Bill blinked. “The distraction? What distraction?” Molly gestured toward the center of the hall, where the entertainer was loading up a bubble machine. “I’m going to create a mild emergency.” “Molly, I don’t like the word emergency in a room full of children.” “It’s only mild,” she said. “I’m going to tell the magician the rabbit is missing.” Bill stared. “There’s a rabbit?” “There will be,” she said, checking her pockets. “I rented one.” “You rented a rabbit?” “For thirty minutes. After that, the rabbit becomes the property of whoever it likes most.” “That is an alarming business model.” Molly leaned closer. “Listen carefully. When the magician panics, the parents will look for the rabbit, the clown will redirect everyone into a dance circle, and you walk in through the kitchen. The caterers will assume you’re the cake guy.” Bill looked down at his suit. “I do not look like a cake guy.” “Bill, you look exactly like a cake guy who has made a few regrettable life choices.” “Thanks.” “Welcome. Once you’re inside, the presents go into the laundry cart by the freezer. Wheels, concealment, and a very large sign that says CLEAN LINENS. No one reads signs at parties.” Bill sighed. “And if someone asks questions?” Molly smiled sweetly. “Then you say you’re with the gift redistribution committee.” “There’s no such thing.” “Not yet.” A sudden burst of laughter erupted inside, followed by the magician shouting, “Has anyone seen my assistant’s left shoe?” Bill winced. “This is spiraling.” Molly slipped on her gloves. “Bill, darling, we are not spiraling. We are gliding.” He looked at her, then at the glowing party, then at the enormous pile of presents waiting like a brightly wrapped invitation to disaster. “All right,” he said. “If this goes wrong, I’m blaming the rabbit.” Molly patted his shoulder. “Fair. Now smile. You’re about to become a very dishonest member of the catering staff.”