Run: 2026-07-09-01KX41G7TT3AWTXYDZP4GQ9QHG

Molly unfolded the blueprint across the bonnet of a stolen ice-cream van. The plan was drawn in purple crayon and featured three smiling suns, a dragon, and what appeared to be a self-portrait of the birthday boy. Bill squinted at it. “Why is the vault shaped like a dinosaur?” “It’s not a vault,” Molly said. “It’s the bouncy castle.” “And the treasure?” “The presents.” “Right. I knew that.” “You asked me yesterday whether presents were taxable.” “I was checking the legal situation.” Rain ticked against the van’s windscreen. Across the park, the children’s party glowed beneath a striped marquee. Balloons bobbed from its roof, a clown guarded the entrance, and a handwritten sign announced: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMIE! PLEASE REMOVE SHOES BEFORE ENTERING THE MOONWALK. Molly tapped the blueprint. “We enter through the catering tent, cross the face-painting station, avoid the magician, and reach the gift table.” “What about the children?” “Distraction.” “Children are not a distraction. Children are highly mobile witnesses.” “They’re eating cake. They’ll be distracted by anything.” Bill adjusted his black woolly hat, which had a pink pom-pom on top. “Why am I wearing this?” “You said you needed a disguise.” “I said I needed something inconspicuous.” “You’re six foot four and shaped like a wardrobe. The hat is the best we can do.” They slipped through the hedge and approached the marquee. A teenager in a pirate costume stood beside the entrance, collecting shoes. Molly handed him a pair of muddy trainers. “Those aren’t yours,” Bill whispered. “They’re a decoy.” The pirate examined them. “These are children’s.” “Exactly,” Molly murmured. “Nobody suspects a child.” Inside, chaos roared. Music blared from a portable speaker while a magician pulled endless scarves from a rabbit’s hat. A toddler crawled beneath the gift table, dragging a balloon by its string. Bill crouched behind a tower of sausage rolls. Molly pointed toward the presents. “On my signal.” “What’s the signal?” “I’ll sneeze.” “You’re allergic to dust.” “I’m also allergic to failure.” A clown suddenly loomed beside them. His painted smile was enormous and his eyebrows looked legally questionable. “Want to see a magic trick?” he asked. Bill froze. “No.” The clown snapped his fingers. Bill’s pink hat vanished. Molly stared. “Where did it go?” The clown reached behind Bill’s ear and produced it, along with a chocolate coin. Bill took the coin. “We’re leaving.” “Not without the loot,” Molly said. They made their move. Molly seized a sack of presents while Bill pushed the gift table toward the exit, pretending it was an overexcited buffet trolley. A child applauded. “Look, Mum! The furniture’s escaping!” The clown blew a whistle. The magician dropped three scarves. Somewhere, a balloon exploded with the authority of a gunshot. Molly and Bill sprinted through the catering tent, tripped over a tray of jelly, and crashed into the ice-cream van. The rear doors burst open, revealing six dozen tubs of vanilla and one furious birthday entertainer. Bill clutched the sack. “We got the presents.” Molly opened it. Inside were twelve identical pairs of socks, a puzzle missing its box, and a banana. She sighed. “Next time, we rob a wedding.” Bill looked at the banana. “Do weddings give better gifts?” “No. But at least the cake has alcohol in it.”