Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HYC2088RC66KJCDYEMYSH

Molly spread a crayon drawing across the café table. Between a purple dinosaur and a sun wearing sunglasses, she had sketched the layout of number seventeen. “The party starts at two,” she said. “Cake at three. Presents opened at four.” Bill studied the drawing. “Why is the garage labeled Dragon Cave?” “Because the birthday boy labeled it. He’s six.” “Six-year-olds can’t own dragons?” “Focus.” Bill pointed at a blue rectangle. “Swimming pool?” “Bouncy castle. Don’t step on it. You’ll ricochet into the hedge.” “I’ve ricocheted into worse.” “That is not the reassurance you think it is.” Their plan had begun with an anonymous tip about the presents: a mountain of brightly wrapped boxes, all gathered in one place. Bill had pictured a quick grab. Molly had pictured the news headline and spent the morning making contingency plans. “We enter disguised as entertainers,” Molly said. “I can juggle.” “You can drop three oranges simultaneously.” “With flair.” She slid a photograph toward him. It showed a smiling man in a wizard costume. “The real entertainer cancelled. Mrs. Patel hired us through the agency.” “An agency?” “I made a website.” “When?” “During your second breakfast.” Bill squinted at the photograph. “Do I have to wear the beard?” “You’re the wizard. I’m your assistant.” “Can my name be Bill the Bewildering?” “No. The Great Billini.” “That’s worse.” “It was available.” Outside, a delivery van parked beside the café. Bill watched its driver unload a tower of cardboard boxes and felt a twinge of optimism. There would be no locks to pick, no alarms to disable, just one garden full of adults taking photographs. Molly tapped her drawing. “We carry the presents out in the magician’s trunk.” “How big is this trunk?” “Big enough.” “Where did you get it?” “Secondhand shop. The lid sticks, so keep your fingers clear.” “And what’s the escape route?” “Side gate, past the bins, into the van.” “We have a van?” “I rented one.” “You’ve been busy.” “I also bought party hats. They’re in the bag.” Bill opened the bag and pulled out a glittery cone with a yellow pom-pom. “This is a humiliation device.” “It’s camouflage.” “It says ‘I’m six!’” “Turn it around.” At two fifteen, they stood in Mrs. Patel’s hallway, surrounded by shrieking children and the smell of sausage rolls. Bill’s beard slid toward his chin. Molly shoved it back into place. “Remember,” she whispered, “distract everyone while I load the trunk.” Bill raised his wand. “Behold! The Great Billini!” A child in a pirate costume folded his arms. “You’re late.” “Magic takes time.” “Can you make my sister disappear?” “Not permanently.” Molly reached the present table. Every parcel wore a label addressed to someone else: Maya, Noah, the twins next door. She frowned, then spotted a cardboard sign: CHARITY TOY DRIVE. BIRTHDAY GIFTS GO HERE. Bill came up behind her. “Which pile?” Molly pointed to a tiny stack by the cake. “That’s all?” “That’s all.” A balloon popped. Bill flinched, and his wand fired a spring-loaded bouquet into the punch bowl. Molly sighed. “New plan. We entertain the children.” “Then?” “Then we leave.” “Can I keep the hat?” “Only if you turn it around.”