February's draw resulted in a crime caper, a compass, and a soup kitchen, and can be found here .
"The camera zones overlap like this," Robin said, grabbing the compass from the maths kit and drawing neat circles on the paper tablecloth, "so the cookie plate needs to go here." Xie prodded the spot on the diagram with a finger. "Which means Marion needs to be...here and John here."
John paused their peeling of potatoes for the soup kettles and leaned in to study their proposed position. "So I'm to be watcher this time? Or guard?"
"Something of both," Robin replied. "We already picked the bigwigs bank accounts..."
"The upscale version of picking pockets?"
"Yep. And now we need to hand out the money without getting caught, money-laundering also being a crime."
"Right, so if one of the bigwigs comes through, they get an empty cookie. Got it. What else?"
Marion, busily stuffing tightly-folded fortunes into paper sachets, looked up and grinned. "They already have at least one fortune, they don't need another."
Robin grinned back. "Precisely. And what they don't know won't ruin their feel-good backpatting."
* * *
The bigwigs meant cameras, and journalists, and a facade of openness that the trio slid easily through to take their places. The tablecloth had been replaced with a clean one, and John placed the cookie plate precisely, flanked by one of the soup pots and one of the baskets of bread. Marion carried the card reader that could snatch up the details of every contactless card in its radius, and Robin hung back as the cameras flashed and the bigwigs jockeyed oh so politely for publicity.
The doors opened and the queue filed through to take bread and soup and a cookie. Robin pasted a smile on xer face as the word spread almost silently to take a cookie and pocket it without opening. The bathrooms would be busy later as the cookies were broken open and the money inside removed and tucked out of sight.
Meanwhile... "Welcome to Sherwood Soup Kitchen. Do take a cookie. Would you like vegetable soup or chicken soup?"