Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0P06GGWZ15EM0MACBY2D9M

Molly unfolded the crayon-smeared invitation on the dashboard and tapped the glittery unicorn with one black-gloved finger. “Four o’clock. Bouncy castle. Magician. Cake shaped like a pirate ship. And, crucially, a present table near the conservatory.” Bill squinted through the windshield at the house across the street, where balloons bobbed like brightly colored hostages. “I don’t like it,” he said. “Too many witnesses.” “They’re six.” “Exactly. Unpredictable. Sticky. Fast.” Molly sighed. “Bill, we’ve robbed a bishop during a thunderstorm.” “The bishop didn’t have a foam sword.” A shriek rose from the garden, followed by the unmistakable sound of twenty children chanting, “Again! Again! Again!” Bill flinched. “Hear that? Mob behavior.” “It’s a birthday party.” “That’s what they want you to think.” Molly pulled a notebook from her coat. “Right. Plan. We enter as entertainers.” “I refuse to wear the kangaroo costume.” “You said it made you feel athletic.” “I said it made me feel judged.” “Fine. I’ll be the kangaroo. You’ll be the magician’s assistant.” Bill turned slowly. “Molly, I have never assisted anyone in my life.” “You assisted that safe open in Brighton.” “I encouraged it.” “Same thing.” Across the street, a man in a cape stepped out of a van carrying a collapsible wand and a rabbit cage. Molly’s eyes narrowed. “Actual magician,” she said. Bill leaned forward. “That complicates things. Magicians are natural enemies of thieves. They understand pockets.” “We adapt. You distract the magician. I collect the presents.” “How do I distract him?” “Ask how the tricks work.” Bill looked offended. “I’m a criminal, not a monster.” The front door opened. A woman emerged carrying a tray of sausage rolls, followed by a boy wearing a paper crown and a look of absolute authority. “That’ll be the birthday tyrant,” Bill whispered. “Target name: Oliver. Age: six. Weakness: cake.” “Everyone’s weakness is cake.” “Not yours. Yours is revolving doors.” “They attack from all sides.” Molly reached into the back seat and produced two wrapped boxes. Bill frowned. “What are those?” “Decoy presents. Empty. We go in holding them, mingle, then leave with better ones.” “That’s elegant.” “Thank you.” “Except for one problem.” “What?” Bill pointed. “They’ve got a gift pile guard.” Beside the conservatory doors sat a small girl in fairy wings, solemnly hugging a plastic unicorn and staring at the present table with the dead-eyed suspicion of a nightclub bouncer. Molly lowered the binoculars. “That child has seen things.” “She’s not blinking.” “Probably trained.” “By who?” “Grandparents.” Bill swallowed. “We need a new angle.” Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Food table. Parents drift there. Children chase magician. Fairy guard remains. Unless…” “Unless what?” “Unless the bouncy castle suffers a minor, harmless, temporary deflation.” Bill gasped. “Molly.” “What?” “You can’t wound a castle in front of children.” “It’s inflatable.” “It has turrets.” “Fine. No castle.” The magician began performing in the garden. A rabbit appeared. The children screamed. Bill whispered, “That rabbit knows.” “Focus.” “I am focused. On the rabbit. It’s assessing exits.” Molly opened her door. “Come on. We go with Plan C.” “We have a Plan C?” “We always have a Plan C.” “Last time Plan C was ‘hide in a laundry basket and pray.’” “And we survived.” “We were folded.” They crossed the road carrying the decoy presents. At the gate, Molly pasted on a bright smile. “Hello!” she called. “We’re with the entertainment.” A father in a party hat glanced over. “Oh, brilliant. More entertainment. Are you the balloon people?” Bill froze. Molly nodded. “Yes. Balloon people.” The father beamed. “Fantastic. The clown cancelled.” Bill muttered, “Lucky clown.” They were swept into the garden. Children turned. Twenty pairs of eyes locked on them. A little boy shouted, “Make a dinosaur!” Bill looked at Molly. Molly looked at Bill. Bill raised both hands. “I can make a worm.” “Not good enough!” yelled Oliver the birthday tyrant. Molly shoved a long balloon at Bill. “Make a dinosaur.” “I don’t know how.” “Then make an extinct worm.” Bill twisted. The balloon squealed. He squealed back. The children howled with delight. Molly edged toward the present table. The fairy guard appeared in front of her as if conjured. “That’s not where balloons go,” the girl said. Molly smiled. “I’m checking gift ventilation.” “Presents don’t breathe.” “Expensive ones do.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “Are you a burglar?” Molly blinked. “No.” “My mum says burglars wear black.” Molly glanced down at her black coat, black trousers, and black gloves. Bill’s balloon exploded with a bang. Children cheered. The fairy guard held out her hand. “Password.” Molly leaned closer. “Cake?” The girl considered this. “Acceptable.” Before Molly could move, Oliver shouted, “Cake time!” The entire garden surged toward the pirate ship cake. Bill stumbled to Molly’s side, hair static, dignity missing. “Abort?” he whispered. Molly watched the children cheering around the cake, the parents laughing, the fairy guard saving two plates with military precision. She sighed and set her decoy present on the table. “Abort.” Bill nodded. “Good. Because I accidentally made friends.” Oliver ran up, clutching a mangled balloon. “Can you come next year?” Bill looked horrified. Molly smiled sweetly. “Only if there’s cake.” The fairy guard handed them each a slice. Bill took a bite and whispered, “Best heist ever.” Molly nudged him. “We stole nothing.” He raised his fork. “Speak for yourself. I’m taking the recipe.”