Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR1TM51C61627HMR71S2GP

Molly spread the napkin across the table and smoothed it flat with the side of her hand. "That's the bouncy castle," she said, tapping a wobbly circle. "That's the trestle table. And that, Bill, is a hundred and forty quid of unopened Lego." "It's a birthday party." "It's a vault with balloons on it." Bill set down his tea very carefully, the way a man does when he's decided to be the reasonable one. "Molly. We did the Ardmore jewellers. We did the wine auction. We did that thing with the swan." "We don't talk about the swan." "And now we're robbing a seven-year-old." "We're robbing a seven-year-old's *guests*," Molly said. "There's a moral distinction, and I'd thank you to respect it. Every present on that table was bought by a stressed parent in a garage forecourt at nine o'clock last night. Nobody wants them. Nobody will mourn them. It's practically a mercy." "And the birthday boy?" "Gets to be the kid whose party got robbed. Do you know what that's worth? He'll dine out on it till he's forty. We're giving him a personality." Bill rubbed his eyes. "How do we get in?" "Balloon animals." She produced a bicycle pump from her bag and laid it on the napkin like a Colt revolver. "You're Bingo. I'm Bingo's assistant, Doreen." "Why do you get to be the assistant?" "Because assistants carry the big bag, Bill, and the big bag is the entire operation. Try to keep up." "I can't make balloon animals." "You make one dog. One. Then you say your wrist's gone and you do close-up magic for the rest of the hour." "I can't do close-up magic." "You can palm a wedding ring off a woman's hand in a crowded lift." "That's different." "That's *identical*, Bill, you've just never had an audience shouting 'do it again.'" She leaned forward. "Two o'clock, cake comes out. Every adult in that garden turns to look at the cake, because that's the law of cakes. Twenty seconds of total blindness. I wheel the present table behind the shed—" "Wheel it." "It's got castors. I checked on Tuesday." "You've been surveilling a birthday party since Tuesday." "I've been *working*." Molly sat back, wounded. "Then out through the side gate, into the ice cream van, and we're on the motorway before anyone's cut the first slice." "We have an ice cream van." "We have Terry's ice cream van, and Terry owes me, and Terry's chimes are broken so it just plays a sort of long groan, which frankly suits the mood." Bill was quiet for a moment. Then: "There'll be a bag for life full of party bags by the back door. Little ones. Sweets, bubbles, plastic whistle." "What about them?" "We leave them. And we leave one present. The big one, whatever it is. So the kid gets something." Molly looked at him for a long time, then folded the napkin and slid it into her pocket. "Bill," she said, standing, "you're going soft, and one day it'll get us both nicked." "Is that a no?" "That's a two o'clock. Bring a red nose."