Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0G94SJPVARG512DMDAPZWJ

Molly spread the blueprints across the sticky diner table, nudging aside a plate of congealing hash browns. The crayon drawing depicted a suburban backyard with alarming detail, including a bounce house labeled "FORTRESS." "The target is a seven-year-old named Tyler," she said. "His mother posted the guest list on Facebook. Twelve kids, three parents, one clown." Bill paled. "A clown?" "Focus, Bill." "I don't do clowns. You know I don't do clowns." "It's a children's party, not a horror movie." She tapped the blueprint. "Presents accumulate on this table here, between the veggie platter and the juice boxes. We go in at piñata o'clock." "Piñata o'clock?" "Maximum chaos. Candy everywhere, kids screaming, parents filming. Nobody's watching the loot." Bill chewed his pencil thoughtfully. "What's our cover?" "You're Uncle Gary. I'm your wife, Denise. We're distant relatives nobody remembers inviting." "Why am I always Uncle Gary?" "Because you have Uncle Gary energy." He considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Fair." He pointed at a squiggle on the blueprint. "What's that?" "Golden retriever. Name's Biscuit. Friendly, but she'll bark at strangers." "So we bring bacon." "We bring bacon," Molly agreed, and shook his hand across the hash browns.