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Was written for a short story contest

------------------------------------Spurious------------------------------------

Conrad groaned as his radio alarm turned on. The song playing was some random oldie, the type he knew the melody and the chorus, but nothing else. Catchy even. But he didn't want to wake up. Of course, the next song was a loud cacophonous racket that made him sit up and turn the alarm off in anger. He turned to put his feet on the floor, curling and flexing his toes in the holed and horribly mismatched socks. Yawning, he stood up and headed to the bathroom.

The black-haired man took a quick shower, thankful there was hot water this morning. He merely put a towel around his waist after drying off then walked over to the kitchen. He hummed a little nonsense tune as he opened the fridge, grabbing an almost empty carton of milk. Apparently it had expired yesterday, but he tried anyway. Thankfully it hadn't gone bad, and he finished it off by up-tippng the carton and pouring it all in his mouth. He tossed it away then scavenged the moldy smelling fridge for some solid food. Finding a pizza slice from the week before, he was satisfied.

After his breakfast he went back to his bedroom, picking up some underwear from where it had haphazardly been tossed sometime before. Giving it a sniff test, he was satisfied to see it was still pretty clean. He put them on in the bathroom and combed his short hair, deciding to use only the tiniest bit of gel to have it slightly forward in an almost spiky shape. Stylish, but still professional. He was only 28 years old, and looked damn good. Manly, but still quite young. His good looks served him quite well.

Conrad went over to his bedroom's closet, and opened the pocket doors dramatically. "Hmm, what shall I do today?" He moved the outfits hanging in the closet first one way then another, trying to pick one out. There were all matter of things in there, such as a police officer's outfit, and electrician's jumpsuit, even a Mexican mariachi outfit (complete with hat). But he settled on a black suit, which looked like it was designed by someone who was a master at making fabric fold and fall just perfectly. After putting it on, Conrad stepped over to the slightly cracked mirror behind his bedroom door and admired himself.

Piercing blue eyes stared back at him, and he grinned, enjoying the sight before him. "Ready to go then, aren't you handsome?" Chuckling to himself he left the apartment, and went out the front door, headed down the street while whistling happily. The outside air was only slightly brisk, though still polluted. However, the sunlight was bright enough to make the dilapidated neighborhood look almost livable, and less like the gangbanger and drug dealer hovel it really was.

Conrad passed by a homeless man, sitting on the ground with a coffee can in front of him with a few coins in it. "Hey Felix, how's it going?" he asked while dropping in a five and some loose change.

"Much obliged Conrad. I heard weatherman say no rain tonight." The man smiled at the man who always spared more than just a few pennies. His yellow teeth with a silver replacement here and there were horribly unpleasant to look at, but Conrad simply smiled back as he walked by.

The well-dressed Conrad continued his walk for a while longer, and saw a young girl waiting at the bus stop. Her pink backpack was stuffed so much that the zippers weren't completely closed, letting him snag a peak at what was inside. "Hey girlie."

Glaring at this stranger, the girl scrunched up her face, looking almost adorable with her red cheeks bordered by red pigtails. "You touch me mister and I'll scream!"

Conrad only chuckled as he stopped in front of her. "Nah, I ain't that kinda guy. I was just gonna ask you if any of those cookies were for sale. They're those good Girl Scout one’s right?"

The girl's demeanor instantly changed as she slipped an arm out through one strap and dropped her backpack on the ground. "Oh yeah! You wanna buy some? If I sell more than anybody I can get a Hello Kitty CD player!"

Reaching into his pocket and pulling out some money, Conrad held it out to her, careful not to invade her personal space. It almost worried him how easily she'd dropped her guard, and he hoped for her sake, she'd be more careful in the future. "Well, I don't have much cash on me right now, but how's about a box of those chocolate ones. With the minty flavor."

"Thin Mints? Sure mister!" She opened her bag only slightly and pulled out a green box, handing it to him as she took his money with her other hand. "Thanks a lot. Lemme get your change."

Before she could go digging in the pockets of her rhinestone-accented jeans, Conrad shook his head and started walking again. "Keep it. Go buy yourself a soda or something kiddo."

"Thanks mister!" Conrad waved over his shoulder without looking back, then tucked the box of cookies underneath his arm. He picked up the song he was whistling before, now humming and occasionally singing the good parts aloud. After a good while of walking he reached a day care center. Some mothers (and fathers) were crowded around the outside of the fence, catching up on some gossip before going to their respective jobs. He noticed one woman separated from them, having a cigarette. She was leaning on the fence in front of a sedan, twirling the keys around while she smoked.

Conrad approached her, and gave her his most charming smile. "Excuse me ma'am." He walked a little closer and opened one of his suit jacket's sides, exposing a fake ID he'd made, attached to an official looking badge he'd gotten at a thrift store. "I'm special agent Jason Fields. I'm sorry for approaching you like this, but I need to borrow your vehicle. Very important business."

"W-What?" The woman looked genuinely puzzled. Then her expression became one of annoyed disbelief. "You want my car? Screw you. Get out of here before I call the cops."

Conrad gave a tired sigh, but kept his smile still there, as if he was used to this. "Normally ma'am, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to call the police, or call in my badge number. Or even kick me in the groin. But I am in quite a bit of a hurry, really." He leaned closer to her, looking serious now and half-whispering. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but it is urgent. I'm not really with the FBI. I'm working undercover with the CIA. We've gotten some reports; you see, about FBI agents involved in a local, though possibly national, child pornography ring. And at the moment, I currently need a vehicle to cover more ground on where these disgusting people might be spotting out their next victim."

The plea was one that reached straight to the woman's heart, and she even felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. To think someone could do that to children! And what if her own child could be in danger from something as horrible as that?! She held out her keys, looking apologetic. "Go ahead, I only live a few blocks away."

"Thank you very much ma'am." Conrad pulled out a small business card out from one of his pockets after taking her keys. "I, or someone else, will return your car to you by this evening. If for any reason I don't, please call this number and tell them what just happened. They'll find out if I was discovered or whatnot. But please, don't call them before eight o'clock. I wouldn't want to risk my cover so quickly."

"All right. Eight PM. Gotcha." The woman watched as the handsome man got in her car and started it up. She made a half-wave with her hand, then shouted, "Good luck!"

Conrad nodded back at her then drove off. Once he was a good mile away, he laughed at her gullibility. Whoever said a sucker was born every minute was certainly right about that. He felt a little guilty for putting such an idea into her head, but just from watching the evening news, he knew that dangers like that were real. He turned on the radio quickly to distract himself and get back into his good mood.

About twenty minutes later he'd reached one of the nicer neighborhoods. The houses were all double-story, complete with front yards that definitely were sized in the 'acres' measurement. He pulled the 'borrowed' sedan over to the curb of a small park. Before stepping out of the vehicle he looked in the glove compartment and other little areas for anything he might like, but it was mostly makeup and cell phone adaptors, though he wondered why anyone would need more than one. He did see a nice Zippo lighter though, which he pocketed.

He picked a direction and then started walking along the sidewalk, jogging after he thought he was far enough from his car. He finally spotted what he was looking for, a businessman getting into an expensive car. "Sir, excuse me sir!"

He rushed up the man's driveway, quickly noticing that his suit was more expensive looking than this guy's. But that watch on his wrist looked like it certainly made up for it. "Sir, I need your help. I'm an agent with the NSA and I'm in the middle of a mission."

"What's that? National Security Agency? What do you need MY help for?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but you seem like a good American, so I will. I'm working undercover as a weapons buyer, since those types are actually trying to sell their stuff on U.S. soil! Although I was ready to go with this," he held up the Girl Scout cookie box for a moment but kept talking, "the dealers have made developed a surprise fee to enter into discussion. Any deplorable customers wouldn't mind, but as a government agent, I don't have that kind of cash on me. Plus, I might be intercepted trying to get in contact with my people or going near a federal office, so I need the cash from a regular citizen."

The bald man with the nice watch looked flabbergasted, and his mouth opened and closed a few times without any sound. "Well... I don't know about this..." He was hesitant and doubtful, but it was obvious this kind of man never had any more adventure in his life than when he and his fellow business partners made paper airplane wars in the offices. Or played golf.

"Please sir! DO it for liberty, and freedom, and the pursuit of happiness! You can't let these people hurt our wonderful nation!"

The man bit his lower lip, then nodded once, but sharply. "OK, I'll help save my country!"

Conrad almost felt bad to be watching such wonderful, but currently misguided, patriotism. "Thank you sir!"

"But I don't have that much cash on me. Is it all right if we go to the bank?" The man looked worried, as if he was going to miss his chance to be a hero.

"That's all right. I don't have to be there for another two hours."

"Ok, then hop on in!" The man unlocked his car with the remote, and Conrad hopped in the passenger seat, casually putting on his seatbelt. No reason to get pulled over by the police now, after all. It would be a waste of a morning's work.

After some time, passed by random chitchat about how one goes about becoming a secret agent (to which Conrad pulled heavily from movies and TV shows), they reached the man's bank. He went in while Conrad waited outside, and returned quickly with a white envelope. "I pulled out an extra thousand in case you might need it."

Conrad felt like he wanted to cry. This guy was just too easy. And to think he had been thinking of asking for his watch. "Thank you sir. If you would just wait a few days, I will try to return to my superiors after the mission. They will send you your money back, I assure you." He paused dramatically. "Unless of course I'm discovered..."

The man looked shocked that such a thing would happen. "No, I'm sure you'll be fine! Don't worry about me, it's just one less outfit for my daughter, no harm done." He tilted his head, looking puzzled about something. "By the way... it's been driving me mad the whole time, but I have to know. What's with the cookies?"

Conrad, though he hadn't expected the question, played it off with a practiced ease. "This? Well you see, I was going to 'pay' for the weapons with some diamonds. They've been inserted into these cookies because they're soft enough to do it, but so innocent looking that no one will suspect until I intend to trade them over and catch the dealers in the act."

Whistling appreciatively at the government's ingenuity, the man nodded. "Wow, that's pretty smart. Well good luck to you agent. Take care."

"Always sir. Thank you for your cooperation and assistance." Conrad waved with a hand, then turned and headed for a subway entrance only a half a block away. He paid for his token and got onto the train headed towards Chinatown, where he had some more business to finish.

Walking around the Chinatown alleys was a bit dangerous, because of his clothes. But he made it quickly and safely to a backdoor with a Chinese symbol near the top. Conrad knocked a few times, in a pattern, and it opened for him. Being recognized by the man inside, he was let in.

Gambling on various games and even a few Siamese Fish matches took practically the rest of the day. Conrad left with less cookies in his green box (sharing was really one of his only virtues), but about $23,000 scattered about his person. For a good day, it wasn't as much as he could make, but a good day was still a good day. He had just shy of $800,000 in a Swiss bank account, and didn't plan on stopping his line of work until he hit a million. Still, at the rate he'd been going recently, he'd probably hit it around his early thirties. Still plenty of time to enjoy it. But he really needed to start thinking of moving out of this city soon, before he got to be well known.

Down at the subway station he glanced at a wall clock and realized he was going to miss his train. He practically flew past people, running as fast as he could toward the platform he needed to get back to that woman's car.

Down near the platform, sitting with his back to a wall, was Felix the homeless man. He could see Conrad from far, and could see he was running this way, clutching onto some kind of green box tightly. "All right, that’s him running!" He shouted the words to a cell phone in his sleeve while holding his hand up to his face as if yawning. Not that anyone really took notice, people in this city were used to bums talking to themselves.

The voice from the cell phone didn't even pause before answering. "All right. We'll take care of him." Conrad didn't even know anything was amiss until he felt strong arms grab his wrists from behind. A sudden pain at the back of his head followed and he was immediately unconscious.

Conrad groaned as he woke up, his head hurting. He thought it felt like someone was hitting his side so he opened his eyes and raised his head. He was confused to see a man wearing a similar suit to his, with blond hair and hazel eyes. The other man seemed to have been kicking him lightly.

"Ah, you're finally up. So what organization are you?"

"What?" Conrad sat up, wincing as he realized his wrists had been tied together behind his back and that he'd been laying on them. "Organization? What are you talking about?" He glanced around and saw they were in a small room with peeling paint and no windows, just one big door. Looking back at the man who'd woken him, he noticed he was a bit beat up.

"I'm ATF. Agent Patrick Morford." He was sitting up with his legs extended, but now raised himself with his knees under him.

"ATF? Dude, I'm just a--well, um, let's just say I'm involved in 'extralegal' business practices."

"But... I thought I saw a badge in your suit when they threw you in here."

"Yeeaaaah..." Conrad felt a little embarrassed as he held out the word, almost blushing.

Patrick looked confused at first, until understanding came upon him. "Oh. Oh! A con artist."

"I guess." Conrad ducked down his head and saw that his box of cookies had been thrown in here too. It was somewhat comforting, though he really had no idea what was going on. As far as he knew, ATF stood for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (though heck if he could figure out why there wasn't an 'E' in the abbreviation).

Patrick sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly. "Great. And here I thought if there were two of us working for Uncle Sam we could complete our missions." He noticed the other man looked thoroughly confused. "I was initially sent after this group because it was suspected they were doing a very high number of gun sales, all without the legally required background checks. Black market stuff, if you will. But then we found out they have a priceless artifact that they were also selling. I know it's not my department's jurisdiction, but was all ready on these guys so we didn't think it'd be hat hard for me to add it on our potential sale, since it would only help get more evidence against them."

Conrad's mouth was open out of shock. Weapons dealers? REAL ones? Perhaps not like the one's he'd made up earlier that day, but still, these were businessmen of the nefarious type. Whenever he conned someone, he made sure to only fleece the really rich, or just small things that wouldn't really hurt a poorer person. Or, perhaps to get some money from those willing to throw it away, like back at that Chinatown den. "So, are they gonna kill us?"

The other man shrugged. "More than likely. Unless we get out of here." He readjusted himself to start moving his tied hands in front of them by slipping them behind his rear and around his legs. "Come on, it's easy."

Not seeming very sure about that, he tried as well, though it took him longer and he ended up hitting his head on the concrete floor, which only made it hurt worse. "Get out of here? I don't know how to do any fighting and stuff, and I've never even touched a real gun."

Patrick got up and used his hands to grab a lock-picking tool from his jacket. He answered Conrad while trying to open the lock to the only door in the room. "If you're a con artist that means you think fast and have had experience getting yourself out of trouble. You have no idea how helpful that is in these kinds of situations." The door's lock clicked then, and the ATF agent turned the handle and pushed it open a crack. Assured there was no one out there, he hurried to use the sharp end of the pick to cut the rope holding his wrists together, and then did the same for Conrad. "All right, let's go. But remember, be quiet and don't get too far behind me. We need to move fast!"

Conrad nodded, and quickly picked up his almost empty cookie box. He wasn't sure why, but he thought it might come in handy. He silently and hurriedly followed Patrick. They ran through hallways, hiding whenever they'd hear someone nearby. When they got to a window in a large room, Patrick opened it and looked out. "OK, perfect. We’re three stories up, but there's a dumpster we can land it. Looks like it's mostly office trash, ya know, a bunch of papers. We can make it all right."

The con artist nodded, but then something else in the room caught his eye. On a table was a figurine of a bird, carved from some kind of stone. Its wings were outstretched, and the detail of the feathers amazed him. "Hey Patrick, is that the thing you were also gonna get?" He whispered as loud as he dared, just as the agent was about to go through the window.

"Oh my--yes! That's it!" He glanced back down and then at it again. "But we can't take it. It'll break. Better to leave it with them and let someone else try to grab it from these people, or a buyer."

Conrad knew he was talking sense, but didn't want to risk leaving such a valuable object in hands like these. After all, they only cared for the monetary value of it, not the historical value. He thought the same way, but there was something inside him that didn't want to. Sighing, he took a step towards the window and Patrick, but stopped. "My cookies! It's the right size!"

While Patrick tried to figure out just what his temporary partner was up to, he grinned when he saw his plan. Conrad emptied out the box, then grabbed some old newspapers off the floor and gently wrapped them around the bird carving. He then stuffed some in his box, added the small statue, and put some more crumpled papers to make it more secure. "There, as long as I don't land on it, it'll be fine."

Patrick nodded, then jumped out, crashing into the almost full dumpster. He looked up towards the window he'd leapt from, and waved for Conrad to throw him the box when he stuck his head out. Catching it was pretty easy, and he got out of the dumpster before Conrad jumped out after him.

The getaway after that was relatively easy. Patrick called up a coworker who picked them up and dropped the 'helpful civilian' friend of Patrick's in the neighborhood where Conrad had left the car he'd borrowed. Patrick said goodbye to him out of hearing distance of his colleague. "Listen friend. Because you helped me out, I won't tell anyone that you're pretty much a self-confessed criminal. But lay low on that stuff, all right?"

Conrad shrugged, but smiled. "I was thinking about retiring soon. I guess it wouldn't hurt to do it now. Besides, any of my farfetched stories would just be too close to the truth for my liking, ya know?" They shook hands and separated. Conrad headed back to 'his' car, and got in after unlocking it. He started up the engine, but just sat there for a few minutes, going over the day's events in his head.

Today had not been anything like he'd expected. He started out doing his 'job', and then ended up helping out with a stolen item that was probably worth several million. This life was definitely too much. He thought about moving to the Caribbean for a while. A nice quiet life on the beach. Sure he didn't have a million dollars, but he could work, right? And that was one nice nest egg or emergency funding anyway. He planned out where he'd go as he drove the car back to the neighborhood of the preschool, pulling over to check the papers in the glove compartment for a nearby address. Finding that, he drove the car the few blocks over, and then got out, slipping the car keys through the mail slot.

His walk home was completely uneventful, as he was too wrapped up in his plans for whether he wanted to live in a cheap condo or perhaps a little house. He didn't even notice that Felix was sitting in the area where he always was, and how he watched him as he went by.

After Conrad got into his apartment, Felix got up and waved a car parked in a darkened alleyway to come over to him. Two men were in it, and unlocked the doors so Felix could get in the backseat.

"So, what do you think?" The passenger asked over his shoulder as the driver sped off. It was Patrick, though he’d wiped off the makeup that had looked like bruises and cuts by now. “Didn’t think we’d actually con the con guy successfully.”

Felix rubbed his hands together and chuckled wryly. "Well he passed the test well. Fast thinker, plays nice with others, and has pretty good morals. CIA could do a lot worse." He glanced back, even though Conrad's apartment was pretty far behind them by now. "I'll talk to the boss man and we'll approach him tomorrow morning. How's he gonna say no to being a real spy?"

---end