Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40FC5QDJ9SGK3RHDFE0TJD

Molly lay flat on the roof of the community hall, peering over the gutter at a jungle of balloons, bunting, and one inflatable pirate ship that appeared to be listing dangerously toward the snack table. Below, twelve children shrieked around a magician in a purple cape. The magician produced a rabbit from his hat. The rabbit looked deeply embarrassed. Bill crawled beside her, carrying a black duffel bag and wearing a caterpillar costume. “Why am I the caterpillar?” he whispered. “Because caterpillars are stealthy.” “They are famously slow, Molly.” “They’re also adorable. Nobody suspects adorable.” Bill adjusted one of his antennae. “I look like a sausage that lost a court case.” Molly checked her watch. “At three fifteen, the magician starts making balloon animals. At three sixteen, the adults begin drinking prosecco in the kitchen. At three seventeen, we enter through the side door, scoop the presents, and leave through the hedge.” “The hedge is thorny.” “Crime is thorny.” “That should be on a T-shirt.” “It is, in prison gift shops.” A burst of applause floated up from the hall. Molly glanced down again. A long table near the stage groaned under wrapped presents: glittery bags, enormous boxes, things shaped like bicycles, and one parcel that looked suspiciously like a small pony. Bill licked his lips. “That blue one could be a game console.” “It could be socks.” “It’s too big for socks.” “Optimism is how they catch you.” He unrolled a floor plan drawn on the back of a takeaway menu. “Side door is here. Gift table is here. Escape hedge is here. I’ve marked the danger zones.” Molly studied it. “You’ve drawn a skull beside the lemonade.” “Sticky floor. High risk.” “That’s not a danger zone. That’s a beverage.” “It’s a tactical beverage.” The side door opened below. A woman in a paper crown stepped out carrying a tray of sausage rolls. Bill froze. “Is that the mother?” “That’s the aunt.” “How do you know?” “Mother has the blue cardigan and the eyes of someone who has priced twenty-four cupcakes individually.” The aunt set down the tray, spotted Bill’s caterpillar head over the roofline, and waved. Bill waved back automatically. “Molly,” he hissed, “she’s seen me.” “Then commit to the disguise.” He wriggled his arms in what might have been a caterpillar-like fashion. The aunt stared for a moment, then nodded slowly and went back inside. “See?” Molly said. “Adorable.” “She thinks I’m entertainment.” “Perfect. Entertaining people are allowed everywhere.” At three fifteen, the magician announced, “Who wants a balloon giraffe?” Every child screamed as if giraffes had been outlawed. Molly dropped lightly into the alley beside the hall. Bill followed, landing with a damp thump. “My caterpillar foot is full of rainwater,” he muttered. “Focus.” They slipped through the side door. The kitchen was packed with adults holding plastic cups and discussing school admissions with the grim intensity of wartime generals. Bill lifted a tray from the counter and balanced it on his fuzzy green torso. “What are you doing?” “Blending in.” “You’re a caterpillar carrying sausage rolls.” “Exactly. Nobody questions catering.” They passed through the kitchen. One woman plucked a roll from Bill’s tray. “Lovely costume,” she said. “Thank you,” Bill replied. “Are you with the magician?” “No,” said Molly. “Yes,” said Bill. The woman blinked at them. “Molly’s my assistant,” Bill added quickly. “She’s a… moth.” Molly smiled through clenched teeth. “A very dangerous moth.” At the gift table, Molly opened the duffel bag. Bill began loading parcels with alarming enthusiasm. “Take the small ones first,” she whispered. “The small ones could be boring.” “The small ones could be jewelry.” “At a seven-year-old’s party?” “You don’t know modern children.” A huge pink box slid into the bag. “What is that?” Molly demanded. “Could be a drone.” “It says ‘Princess Castle Tent.’” “Drones can be princesses now.” The birthday boy suddenly appeared beside them, wearing an eye patch and clutching a foam sword. “What are you doing?” he asked. Bill went rigid. Molly crouched. “We’re collecting presents for the treasure vault.” The boy narrowed his eyes. “That’s not where the treasure vault is.” “Oh?” “It’s upstairs. In my bedroom.” Bill glanced at Molly. Molly glanced at the stairs. The boy lifted his sword. “Do you want to see my real presents?” Bill grinned beneath his caterpillar hood. “Kid,” he said, “you may have just upgraded the operation.”