Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40KGEVW7JN71K8BJ6SPX3F

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through binoculars decorated with tiny skull stickers. Across the garden, balloons bobbed above a herd of sugar-dazed children wearing paper crowns. A magician pulled scarves from a hat while parents guarded the buffet with the exhausted suspicion of border police. Bill adjusted his black balaclava. It had little bear ears sewn onto it. “Why are there bear ears?” “Camouflage,” Bill whispered. “Against what? A woodland-themed SWAT team?” “It’s a children’s party. You have to blend in.” “You’re forty-seven, built like a wardrobe, and carrying bolt cutters.” “They’re party scissors.” “They’re stamped PROPERTY OF HMP WANDSWORTH.” Bill tucked them behind his back. “Vintage.” Molly lowered the binoculars. “Right. The presents are in the conservatory. Sixteen wrapped boxes, one bicycle, and a suspiciously large dinosaur-shaped piñata.” “The dinosaur might be a present.” “The dinosaur might be full of sweets.” “Then we take both.” “We are not stealing a piñata.” “We’re stealing presents from children, Molly. I think moral consistency has left the building.” A child screamed with delight as the magician produced a rabbit. Bill flinched. “Did you hear that?” “It’s a rabbit.” “It sounded furious.” “Everything sounds furious to you.” “Last week, your toaster sounded furious.” “Because it was on fire.” Bill studied the garden. “What’s the entry plan?” “French doors. The parents are distracted by the magician.” “The magician has a rabbit.” “Yes.” “Rabbits can smell guilt.” “Then you’re in trouble. You smell like a courtroom.” Bill sniffed his sleeve. “That’s aftershave.” “It’s called ‘Regret.’” “It was discounted.” Molly unfolded a hand-drawn map. “We go through the side gate, across the patio, into the conservatory. You bag the small presents. I take the expensive-looking boxes.” “How can you tell?” “Weight. Shape. Brand labels. Also, one says ‘To Alfie, love Nana, this is probably far too much.’” Bill nodded appreciatively. “Nana’s an amateur.” “No freelancing.” “What?” “Last job, you stole a decorative fountain because you thought it was an antique.” “It was an antique.” “It was plastic and full of tadpoles.” “The tadpoles were very old.” A gust of wind blew a napkin against Bill’s face. He yelped, slapped at it, and fell backward into a rosebush. From the garden, a parent called, “Is someone there?” Molly hissed, “Don’t move.” “I’m being attacked by roses.” “Roses don’t attack.” “These ones have training.” The parent stared toward the hedge. Bill lay rigid beneath the branches, a pink paper napkin draped over his nose. Molly whispered, “Pretend you’re a garden ornament.” “I look like a dead burglar.” “Then commit to it.” The parent shrugged and returned to the party. The magician announced, “And now, who wants to make the birthday boy disappear?” A chorus of children cheered. Bill sat up, thorns in his trousers. “That’s a bit advanced for a party trick.” “Focus.” They slipped through the side gate. Bill’s bear ears snagged on the latch. “Hold still,” Molly said. “I am holding still.” “You’re vibrating.” “I’m anxious.” “You’re always anxious.” “I’m breaking into a child’s birthday party.” “You suggested it.” “I suggested stealing the catering van. You said that lacked romance.” “It did.” At the patio door, Molly produced a lock pick. Bill leaned close. “What if the birthday boy sees us?” “We say we’re entertainers.” “Doing what?” “Mime.” “I can’t mime.” “You’ve spent twelve years pretending you understand tax returns.” “That’s different. There are forms.” The lock clicked. Molly grinned. Inside, presents glittered beneath a banner reading HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, ALFIE! Bill lifted a box shaped like a spaceship. “This one’s definitely expensive.” “It’s light.” “Expensive things are often light. Diamonds. Gold. Emotional damage.” Molly grabbed a large parcel. The tag read: TO ALFIE, FROM BILL AND MOLLY. They froze. Bill squinted. “Oh.” Molly turned slowly. “You know Alfie?” “He’s my nephew.” “You planned a heist at your nephew’s party?” “I forgot it was today.” “You made the invitations.” “I thought the dinosaur was a nice touch.” From outside, a child shouted, “Uncle Bill’s here!” Bill dropped the spaceship. “New plan.” “Run?” “No.” He pulled off his balaclava, bear ears and all. “We give him the bicycle.” “You didn’t bring the bicycle.” Bill pointed at it. “I mean we give it to him properly.” Molly sighed, then picked up the parcel bearing her name. “Fine. But I’m still taking the piñata.” “Deal.”