Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0MTCHMN7F26Z0ACEQ6YXCA

Molly crouched behind the hedge opposite number 42, peering through a gap in the leaves at the riot of balloons, bunting, and tiny sugar-fueled humans beyond. The garden was packed. Children in paper crowns stampeded around a bouncy castle shaped like a dragon, while exhausted adults hovered with juice boxes and the haunted eyes of people who had already heard “Baby Shark” six times. Beside her, Bill unfolded a hand-drawn map of the property. It had arrows, skulls, and one large circle labeled PRESENT MOUNTAIN. “We go in at thirteen hundred hours,” Molly whispered. Bill checked his watch. “It’s half past two.” “That’s what I said, but posher.” He nodded solemnly. “Right. The target?” Molly pointed through the hedge. Beneath a gazebo, a shimmering heap of wrapped presents sat on a trestle table. Gold bows. Dinosaur paper. One box so large it could contain either a bicycle or a disappointed uncle. “There,” she said. “Enough loot to retire on.” Bill squinted. “Retire from what? We mostly steal decorative soaps from hotels.” “It’s about ambition, Bill.” “It’s a seven-year-old’s birthday party.” “All great fortunes start somewhere.” A shriek split the air as a child in a pirate hat whacked another child with an inflatable sword. Bill flinched and dropped the map into a puddle. Molly sighed. “This is why you’re lookout and not mastermind.” “I thought I was disguise expert.” “You brought one false mustache.” “It’s a quality mustache.” “It’s purple.” “It says ‘fun uncle.’” Molly took it from him and stuck it under her nose. “Fine. I’m fun uncle. You’re… catering.” Bill looked down at his black turtleneck and gloves. “Catering for burglars?” “We improvise.” They slipped along the hedge to the side gate, where a sign read: WELCOME TO PIPPA’S MAGICAL UNICORN PARTY! PLEASE CLOSE THE GATE OR THE DOG ESCAPES. Molly froze. Bill whispered, “Dog?” From inside came a thunderous bark that rattled the fence panels. “That is not a dog,” Bill said. “That is a sofa with teeth.” Molly inhaled. “Every fortress has a beast. We distract it.” “With what?” She reached into her pocket and produced half a sausage roll wrapped in a napkin. Bill stared. “You saved that from lunch?” “I am a professional.” “You said it was for emergencies.” “This is an emergency.” The gate creaked open. Immediately, a golden retriever the size of a small pony bounded toward them, tail wagging like a windscreen wiper. Molly tossed the sausage roll. The dog caught it midair, swallowed it whole, and lovingly tackled Bill into the hydrangeas. “Traitor beast,” Bill wheezed, as the dog licked his ear. Molly marched forward, purple mustache wobbling. She nearly collided with a woman carrying a tray of cupcakes. “Oh, fabulous,” the woman said. “You must be the magician.” Molly blinked. “Yes.” Bill sat up, leaves in his hair. “She is?” “Wonderful! The children are waiting.” Within seconds, Molly found herself standing before twenty-five expectant children, one suspicious birthday girl, and a banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIPPA. Bill hovered behind her, clutching the damp map like evidence. Molly raised her hands. “Behold. I shall make the presents…” Bill’s eyes widened. “…remain exactly where they are,” Molly finished, “because stealing is wrong.” The children applauded, assuming this was educational. Bill leaned close. “New plan?” Molly smiled tightly as the retriever sat on his foot. “New plan. We escape with cupcakes.” “That’s not heist money.” “No,” she said, accepting a frosted unicorn cake. “But it’s frosted.”