Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7VNVN24A2KSB060N02Z2W

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the Buick, anchoring the corners with a half-eaten burrito and a tub of sour cream she'd stolen that morning for this exact purpose. "Right," she said. "Operation Piñata. The Henderson kid turns six on Saturday, and the whole neighbourhood is bringing presents. We're talking Lego sets, remote-control helicopters, maybe a trampoline." "A trampoline?" Bill squinted at the map, which was less a blueprint and more a crayon drawing of the Hendersons' back garden that Molly had bribed out of the birthday boy's older cousin. "How do you fence a trampoline?" "You don't. You keep it. For morale." "We are not installing a trampoline in a fourth-floor flat, Molly." "Fine. We focus on the small stuff." She tapped the drawing with a grease-stained finger. "The party starts at two. The magician arrives at two-thirty. We go in at two-fifteen, dressed as the caterers." Bill frowned. "We don't know anything about catering." "Bill, it's a six-year-old's birthday. The catering is chicken nuggets and a cake shaped like a dinosaur. I can burn chicken nuggets with the best of them." "And the magician?" "That's where it gets beautiful." Molly's grin could have powered a small city. "At two-forty-five, the magician does his big finale. Every kid in that garden is watching a rabbit come out of a hat. Every parent is filming it on their phone. That is a ninety-second window where not one single soul is looking at the present table." "Ninety seconds isn't long." "Ninety seconds is forever if you don't dawdle. We wheel the presents out on the cake trolley, straight down the side passage, into the van." "The van we don't have." "I've borrowed Denise's van." "Denise's van says 'Denise's Dog Grooming' on the side in letters four feet tall." "That's camouflage. Nobody suspects the dog groomer." Molly rolled up the crayon map and tucked it into her jacket. "Now. Contingencies. If a kid catches us, what do we do?" "Run?" "Wrong. We say we're taking the presents to be blessed." "Blessed." "By the birthday fairy. Kids will believe anything. I once told my nephew that the ice cream van only plays music when it's run out of ice cream. He's twenty-two and he still believes it." Bill rubbed his temples. "And if the parents catch us?" "Then we're the magician's assistants, helping load his equipment." "And if the magician catches us?" Molly paused. "Okay, that one's tricky. Magicians are naturally suspicious. It's a professional hazard. If the magician catches us, we improvise." "Your definition of planning is alarming." "My definition of planning has gotten us out of four museums, two weddings, and one very confused aquarium." She slid into the driver's seat. "Saturday, one o'clock. Wear something that says 'chicken nuggets.'" Bill sighed and got in beside her. "I can't believe I'm robbing a six-year-old." "You're not robbing him. You're redistributing his haul. Kid's got a trampoline coming. He'll survive."