Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40TB9726T5JK7TS0B76YWH

Molly unfolded the map across the kitchen table, pinning its corners with four suspiciously expensive cupcakes. “According to this,” she said, “the birthday party begins at noon, the presents arrive at twelve-fifteen, and the children become distracted by a magician at twelve-thirty.” Bill peered at the map. “Why is the magician labeled ‘possible security threat’?” “Because last time, he turned your hat into a rabbit.” “That rabbit had my wallet.” “Exactly. He’s dangerous.” Rain tapped the window while Molly circled the house in red pencil. The place belonged to a wealthy family on Wicker Lane, famous for throwing extravagant parties and hiring entertainers who accepted payment in cash, cake, or apparently stolen hats. Bill adjusted his tiny black mask. “What’s our entrance?” “The back door.” “Too obvious.” “The conservatory.” “Too glassy.” “The chimney.” “We’re thieves, Molly, not a pair of soot-covered sausages.” She sighed. “Fine. We enter through the side gate disguised as party guests.” Bill brightened. “Excellent. I’ll be a pirate.” “You can’t be a pirate.” “Why not?” “Because you’re wearing a tuxedo.” “I’ll be a sophisticated pirate.” “You’ll be a man in a tuxedo carrying a plastic sword.” “People will assume I’m wealthy.” “People will assume you’re lost.” Molly lifted two bags from beneath the table. One contained costumes. The other contained tools. Bill reached for the tools. “Not that bag,” Molly said. “The costumes.” “I prefer the tools.” “You always prefer the tools. Last time, you brought a crowbar to a petting zoo.” “It was a very secure petting zoo.” They changed in the hallway. Molly emerged as a cheerful clown with a red wig, enormous shoes, and the expression of someone contemplating murder. Bill wore a pirate coat over his tuxedo, a paper hat, and a curled cardboard mustache. Molly stared at him. “You look like a disappointed magician.” “Perfect. Children trust disappointment.” At the party, balloons bobbed above the garden like colorful surveillance drones. Children shrieked around a table stacked with wrapped gifts. Molly and Bill slipped through the gate behind a family carrying a giant teddy bear. A boy pointed at Bill. “Are you a pirate?” Bill bowed. “Retired.” “Why?” “Bad benefits.” Molly elbowed him. “We’re here to entertain.” She guided him toward the present table while pretending to juggle three rubber balls. Bill scooped up a parcel. “Careful,” Molly whispered. “Only the large ones.” “Why?” “Small presents might contain socks.” He grabbed another. “This one rattles.” “Leave it.” “Could be jewels.” “Could be a drum.” “Same thing, depending on who’s listening.” The magician appeared beside them, smiling beneath a velvet cape. “Wonderful,” he said. “My assistants have arrived.” Molly froze. Bill smiled. “Of course,” he said. “We’re assistants.” The magician snapped his fingers. Their bags vanished. Molly whispered, “Plan B.” Bill watched the magician pull the presents from his sleeve. “Do we have one?” “No.” “Then I vote for Plan A.” “Which was?” “Steal the magician.”