Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GT6Q5552GP0DC0SMMMPW06

The surveillance van smelled like old coffee and Bill's cologne, which Molly had complained about in writing. Between them sat blueprints of Fernwood Park, three walkie-talkies, and a bag of carrots. "Saturday, two o'clock," Molly said, tapping the map. "The MacDougall kid's birthday. Presents stacked under the picnic pavilion, unattended during the piñata. That's our window." Bill studied the blueprints like they'd personally offended him. "The five-year-old." "His presents, Bill." "I'm just saying. This is a new low." "We ran out of lows after the aquarium job." "That was stealing a fish. This is stealing from people who still think the moon follows their car." He slumped against the door. "What if there's no piñata?" Molly didn't look up. "There's always a piñata." "What if it's one of those pull-string ones? No whacking. Kids just tug ribbons. Ninety seconds, tops." "Then the window shrinks and we adapt." She slid a surveillance photo across the table. "Half the parents film the piñata. The other half stand around drinking juice boxes that smell suspiciously like rum. Nobody watches the presents." "And the clown?" Molly paused. "There's a clown?" "Sparkles Dave. My niece had him once. He juggles, but he's always scanning the exits. Very unsettling. Very professional." "The clown is not part of the operation." "Everything with hands is part of the operation, Molly. That's heisting one-oh-one." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. You take the clown." "How?" "Distract him. Juggle." "I can't juggle." "He doesn't know that." "He will. Almost immediately." "Then look enormous. You're already enormous. Half the job is done." Bill drummed his fingers on the dashboard. "What about the pony?" "There's a pony?" "That's what I'm asking you. I cased the house like a professional, and the invite on the fridge has a pony on it." "A drawing of a pony." "So we're gambling." "On what? What would a pony even do — guard the presents?" "Ponies bite. It's mostly teeth and opinions." Molly wrote on her notepad and turned it around: ASSET OR OBSTACLE. CALM VOICE. CARROTS. "Why do you have carrots in your bag?" "Why don't you have carrots in your bag? It's Saturday. There's a pony, possibly." Bill pulled his cap down over his eyes. "I want it on record I hate this job." "Noted." "When we're rich and famous, nobody tells this story. It gets cut from the memoir. Chapter twelve is the museum. Chapter thirteen is the aquarium fish. There is no chapter about a pony and Sparkles Dave." "There's no chapter because we're going to pull this off in eleven minutes, fence nine thousand dollars of gifts, and retire." Bill lifted the cap and stared at her. "Retire. On toys." "Pawnshops pay cash for sealed electronics, Bill. Half those presents are tablets." Something ignited behind his eyes. "Tablets." "Now you're with me." "I'm with the tablets. And if there's a pony, I get to name it." "That's not how—" "I've already picked one." Molly closed the blueprints and started the van. "Fine. What's the name?" "Chapter Thirteen."