Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PPJF3P9BQ9KW0XX00KW5X

Molly spread the blueprints across the bonnet of the van. They were not, strictly speaking, blueprints. They were a birthday invitation covered in glitter unicorns, peeled off a lamppost by Bill that morning with the reverence of a man handling the Crown Jewels. "Tyler turns seven at two o'clock," Molly said. Bill nodded gravely and circled the address with a crayon, because the pen had been lost in the previous job, which had also gone badly. The plan was elegant. Children's parties were chaos engines. Sugar-crazed guests, exhausted parents, and a mountain of wrapped gifts piled unattended beside a bouncy castle. Nobody counted presents. Nobody watched the table. By the time anyone noticed the missing loot, the thieves would be three towns away, drowning in remote-control dinosaurs. "Then we strike at two-fifteen," Bill said. Molly pulled a garment bag from the back seat and unzipped it with a flourish. Inside lay a rainbow wig, enormous shoes, and a polka-dot suit that had clearly seen darker days. "Nobody suspects the clown." Bill stared at the costume. His left eye twitched, the way it had since the incident at his cousin's christening. "I hate clowns." Molly tossed him the red nose. "Wear the nose."