Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ019K5ZSY1N1AJMHEC6S4K6

Molly lowered her coffee and stared through the windshield at the ranch house. Streamers hung from the mailbox like festive crime scene tape. "Let me get this straight. You want us to crash a children's birthday party." "Not crash. Infiltrate. There's a difference." "Enlighten me." "Crashing implies we weren't invited. Infiltrating implies we weren't invited professionally. I thought you went to college." Bill spread a glitter-covered blueprint across the dashboard and tapped a crayon drawing of the backyard. "Look, the target is a five-year-old named Tyler. His mom hired a bounce house, a face painter, and a guy dressed as Captain Galaxy. Security's tight." "Bill. It's not a casino. It's a patio with a sandbox." "Exactly why they won't see us coming. Classic misdirection." Bill pulled two crumpled party hats from his trench coat. "Disguises." "We're forty." "Forty-year-old guests. Very sad, very believable. We walk in with a gift—" "We're stealing gifts, not bringing them." "Right, but we bring one to get past the perimeter. It's a Trojan horse situation. I filled a box with rocks so it rattles like a LEGO set." Molly stared at him until her eye twitched. "You want me to walk into a stranger's backyard wearing a pointy hat and a box of rocks." "And a smile. Kids can sense fear. Also, don't make eye contact with the dog." Bill checked his watch as an ice cream truck rolled past. "The cake drops at three. That's when the parents get distracted by sugar-fueled chaos. That's our window." "What's the exit strategy?" "Balloon animals." "I'm sorry?" "I've been practicing for six weeks. I pose as the backup entertainer, create a diversion near the pinata, and you sweep the gift table into garbage bags. I've got it timed to the second." Bill produced a mangled latex poodle and waved it weakly. "Garbage bags? Really?" "Black, unscented industrial grade. I'm not an animal, Molly." "What if someone asks why we're taking thirty wrapped presents to a Honda Civic in broad daylight?" "We say it's for charity. Operation: Birthday Hope. Very official. I made a logo and everything." She sighed. "And if Tyler cries? Actual tears." Bill looked wounded and clutched his heart. "We leave him the card and a juice box. I'm a thief, not a monster. Besides, he's getting a bounce house. Bounce houses are the real gift." He adjusted his party hat so the elastic dug into his chin. "One hour. In and out. Clean. Professional. No fingerprints, no face paint, no witnesses." "You're paying for therapy if I see a clown. Full coverage." "Deal. But if the clown sees you first, use the rocks. Don't hesitate." "Which rocks? The big ones?" "The ones in the box. Aim for the oversized shoes. Then run and don't look back." Molly picked up the garbage bags. "I miss robbing banks. The dignity. The alarms. The respect." Bill tied his sneaker with grim intensity. "Those days are gone, Molly. Welcome to the big leagues. Now smile." Molly opened the car door.