Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PZ6T1XPRJSZZBS7NYP1FD

Molly unfolded the floor plan across the bonnet of Bill’s van, pinning down one corner with a half-eaten sausage roll and the other with a rubber duck wearing an eyepatch. Bill squinted at it. “That’s not a floor plan. That’s a crayon drawing.” “It’s an intelligence document,” Molly said. “Acquired from a highly placed source.” “You stole it off a six-year-old.” “Borrowed. From her fridge.” Bill leaned closer. “Why is the living room labelled ‘Dragon Zone’?” “Because that’s where the entertainer does the puppet show. We avoid it.” “I’ve tangled with puppets before,” Bill said gravely. “Never again.” Across the street, bunting fluttered outside number 42. Balloons bobbed at the gate. Through the window came shrieks, party horns, and the ominous thump of children doing something rhythmic and probably sticky. Molly tapped the drawing. “The presents are stacked in the conservatory. Entry point: side gate. Obstacle one: family dog.” Bill brightened. “I brought biscuits.” “Dog biscuits?” “Custard creams.” “That’s not for dogs.” “It’s not for me to judge their culture.” A small poodle appeared behind the hedge, wearing a paper crown and a look of deep suspicion. Bill waved a biscuit. The poodle sneezed and trotted away. “Fine,” Molly said. “Obstacle two: pass the parents.” Bill lifted a plastic tray from the van. On it sat thirty cupcakes iced in alarming shades of blue. “Catering disguise.” Molly inspected one. “Why do they say ‘Happy Retirement, Clive’?” “I got them reduced.” “The birthday girl is called Poppy.” “Children can’t read under pressure.” Molly sighed and adjusted her fake caterer’s cap. Bill put on an apron that read KISS THE BURGLAR, then turned it inside out to reveal WORLD’S OKAYEST UNCLE. “That’ll do,” Molly said. They crossed the road with the solemn confidence of people carrying baked goods. At the door, a harassed father opened it while wearing fairy wings over a football shirt. “Cupcakes,” Molly announced. “I didn’t order cupcakes,” he said. Bill beamed. “That’s what makes them a surprise.” From inside, a child screamed, “I WANT THE BLUE ONE!” Another shouted, “THE MAGICIAN ATE MY COIN!” The father stared at the cupcakes, then at the chaos behind him. “Kitchen’s through there.” They slipped inside. The hallway smelled of jam, crisps, and fear. Molly jerked her head toward the conservatory. Presents glittered beneath a banner: HAPPY BIRTHDAY POPPY. Bill whispered, “Jackpot.” Molly whispered back, “In and out. No heroics.” “I’m always heroic.” “You once lost a fight with a self-checkout.” “It had unexpected authority.” They each opened a bin bag. Molly paused at the first present, a sparkly box tied with ribbon. Bill frowned. “What?” “It’s shaped like a pony.” “So?” “So it might be a pony.” “Inside that box?” “I don’t know rich people.” A tiny girl in a tiara appeared behind them, holding a plastic sword. “Are you present inspectors?” Bill froze. Molly smiled. “Exactly. Official.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “Mummy says don’t trust men with van smell.” Bill sniffed his sleeve. “That’s artisanal diesel.” Molly crouched. “We’re checking for… wrapping hazards.” The girl gasped. “Like bows?” “Very dangerous,” Molly said. “Like glitter?” “Practically knives.” The girl considered this, then pointed her sword at Bill. “You have to inspect mine first. It’s the unicorn one. If it’s dangerous, I still want it.” Bill opened his mouth, but a booming voice rang out from the living room. “Who wants to see a disappearing trick?” Thirty children roared. Molly and Bill exchanged a look. Bill whispered, “We could use that.” Molly whispered, “Absolutely not.” A magician in a purple cape backed into the conservatory, wrestling with a collapsible cage. “Ah, assistants! Splendid. Hold this.” He shoved the cage at Bill. Something inside clucked. Bill stared. “Molly.” “No.” “It’s a chicken.” “I said no.” The magician swept an arm toward the present pile. “For my finale, I shall make all these gifts vanish!” Molly’s eyes widened. Bill’s grin spread slowly. “That’s our routine,” he whispered. The little girl raised her sword. “If my unicorn vanishes, I’ll bite someone.” Molly looked at the presents. Then at the girl. Then at Bill, who was now being pecked through the bars by a furious chicken. She snatched the bin bags and stuffed them under the cupcake tray. “Change of plan,” she said. “We steal the magician.” Bill blinked. “For ransom?” “For his nerve. And maybe the chicken.” The girl nodded approvingly. “The chicken can stay for cake.”