Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ492W1FG7ZZGFJ9JN7S614

Molly adjusted her ski mask and peered through the binoculars at the suburban backyard bursting with balloons, streamers, and what appeared to be a bouncy castle shaped like a dragon. "This is humiliating," she muttered. "Twenty years in the business, and we're knocking over a seven-year-old's birthday party." Bill squinted through his own binoculars, lower quality ones with cartoon characters on the strap. "Relax. The intel is solid. Little Timothy Williamson is turning seven, and his father just made partner at Goldstein & Associates. We're talking high-end electronics, probably some designer sneakers in a kid's size, and my contact says there might be an actual pony." "A pony," Molly repeated flatly. "We're stealing a pony." "Resale value on ponies is incredible. Plus, have you seen what they charge at petting zoos these days?" Bill pulled out a crumpled blueprint that appeared to be drawn on the back of a Chuck E. Cheese placemat. "Okay, so here's the perimeter. Inflatable castle here, present table here, and—most importantly—the cake here." "Since when do we care about the cake?" "Since I skipped lunch. Focus, Molly. We go in through the side gate during the magic show. The parents will be distracted, the kids will be mesmerized by some guy making balloon animals, and we grab the goods while everyone's looking the other way." Molly lowered her binoculars and stared at him. "There are thirty kids out there. And at least twelve adults. Plus whatever teenager they hired to wear the princess costume. I saw at least three Elsas out there, Bill." "Perfect. We blend in. I've got the gear." He reached into his duffel bag and produced two oversized foam hats shaped like dinosaur heads. "Triceratops. Very popular this year." "We look like we're from accounting, Bill." "Actually, we look like two loving parents who brought their child to the party. Which reminds me—we need a kid." "We are not bringing a child into this." "Obviously not a real kid. A decoy. I was thinking a particularly realistic doll, maybe one of those ones that cries and wets itself." "Bill, we're not stealing presents at a children's birthday party with a wetting doll as our cover. This is rock bottom. This is beneath us." Bill adjusted his dinosaur hat. "Last month we stole a diamond necklace from a museum gala. The month before, we liberated a Picasso from a penthouse. This is just... lateral movement. A different demographic." "A poorer demographic. Kids, Bill. We're stealing from kids." "We're stealing from kids whose parents can afford a bouncy dragon castle. Trust me, little Timothy will survive the trauma. Kids are resilient. He'll get over it by the time the ice cream truck arrives." Molly watched a small boy in a paper crown attempt to pin the tail on a donkey while blindfolded, missing the target entirely and stapling the tail to a garden gnome. The child laughed with pure joy. "Fine," she said, pulling on her dinosaur hat. "But if anyone asks, you're the one who had the bathroom emergency, and I'm the one who needs to find my non-existent son. If I see even one child cry, we abort." Bill grinned. "That's the spirit. Now, let's go steal some presents and maybe a slice of that cake. I think I saw three tiers." "It's probably a sheet cake." "A man can dream, Molly. A man can dream."