The Samoa Seduction

by Alan L. Moss

  “Stephanie and Pecura sought to strip you of your influence. I know at the time you believed Stephanie boosted your confidence, but she was merely setting you up for the kill.”

  Michael swallowed hard.

  “Initially, the rates didn’t climb much…the conspirators won the battle at the hearings. Then, you threatened that result with your plans to charge the participants with fraud and abuse. So, what happens? Stephanie pays you a visit in your hotel room, prevents your appeal through a disabling substance, and the low rates go into effect.

  “Then, three years later, here you come again, raising questions and starting an investigation. How did they respond? They sabotaged your car and murdered your wife.

  “When they learned you didn’t die with her, they called you in the middle of the night and turned you into a fugitive. Maybe the police will shoot you and save them the trouble.

  “But what’s the role of the Samoan minimum wage rates in all of this? If we figure that out, it should lead us to who’s behind this conspiracy.

  “Which leads me to your second question.

  “You have to understand that Mr. Partain was a nice guy and a pretty good investigator. Unfortunately, he was also a gambler who lost a lot of money. Every time we seemed to get ahead he would hit the track or sit in on a poker game that put him and the firm behind the eight ball. He struggled to keep the lights on and make his car payments. If a lucrative but legally questionable oppor-tunity came along, my guess is Mr. Partain would have taken it.”

  “Was there a client like that around the time of the wage hearings?” Michael interrupted.

  Joy walked up the beach again.

  “He had a client from New Zealand, some kind of medical research firm that specialized in stem cells. It was all very hush-hush. Bob Tagata did some of the early research on the company. I think it was called Health-Cell. But once things got rolling, Mr. Partain handled it by himself.

  “He excelled at uncovering shady books and extortion schemes and was known as a dealmaker when projects leaned towards the shady. That’s why he won so many Justice Department contracts and earned dollars from unexpected sources. I got the impression his work for Health-Cell was a scheme to raise money for the company. I know he was dealing with people in New Zealand, American Samoa, Los Angeles, and Oregon.”

  Michael took Joy’s hand stopping their walk.

  “Joy, I can’t tell you how much this information means to me. You’re a bright, wonderful young lady. What you’ve told me could well lead to Karen’s killer.

  “Now, I want you to forget all about Michael Bloom, Jim Green, Health-Cell, and the rest. I don’t want to put you in danger. Go home, call your boyfriend, and go to work tomorrow as though none of this happened.”

  Joy put her arms around Michael and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Michael Bloom, you’re a sweet man, but you’re also a man in a lot of trouble. Why don’t you let me help? I have a few weeks’ vacation coming and this case would be a dream for someone at my level. I’ll be careful and if you think things are getting too hot, I’ll drop out and return home.”

  Michael wouldn’t hear of it.

  “If you can give me the names of Partain’s contacts at Health-Cell, I’d appreciate it. Other than that, consider yourself off the case.”

  CHAPTER 19

  THE STALL

  July 6, 2004

  Washington, D.C.

  Howard Berger stood outside the Wage-Hour conference room waiting for the meeting to conclude and the room to clear. His introductory session with the Administrator was scheduled for one fifteen.

  Berger carried a briefcase filled with relevant materials, most provided by Michael Bloom. At one thirty-five he heard papers rustling and chairs moving away from the table. The door opened and all the participants left the room and walked down the hall, no doubt returning to their offices.

  The Administrator, Louise Herman, kept her place at the head of the table. She spotted Berger through the open door.

  “Is that you, Howard?” she asked. “Come on in. I’m calling Frank Hopper and Lauren Walsh to join us. Frank was Michael Bloom’s supervisor during the hearings in question and Lauren served then as Acting Adminis-trator.”

  Howard Berger had been through such sessions many times. Often, the introductory meeting defined the issues to be investigated and the scope of wrongdoings explored. Berger was feared as a stickler for detail who tied up loose ends, whether they were relevant or extraneous. He never compromised because he knew the smallest details could lead to the discovery of the most egregious violations.

  Berger entered the room and took a seat. Before he could organize his papers, one of the Administrator’s assistants entered with a salad and Diet Coke. She placed them beside the agency’s leader and slipped a note to her boss. The Administrator read the note and slid it between some pages in a legal pad in front of her.

  “I apologize but there’s just no time to eat lunch in a civilized manner these days. I’m reduced to downing a salad whenever I can. I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

  Herman stabbed at the salad with a fork, crunching her way into it.

  Although her words were apologetic, her tone conveyed no regret. She was an important member of the Administration, confirmed by the U.S. Senate. Berger was a lowly bureaucrat and his presence would not interrupt her meal.

  Still waiting for the two Wage-Hour staffers to arrive, Berger finished arranging his papers. It always amazed him how new administrations fired salvos at their predecessors for the fraud and abuse that occurred on their watch. As part of campaign platforms, outsiders promised the public they would work diligently with the Inspector General’s Office to expose wrongdoing and save millions.

  However, after the early days in office, when it was their staff members under investigation, the attitude changed. Salads, secret notes, and postponed meetings — this was Berger’s third attempt to meet with the Administrator — replaced unconditional cooperation.

  Finally, Frank Hopper and Lauren Walsh entered the room, sitting opposite Berger. Each greeted the I.G. staffer with a warm handshake and the three reminisced over charges of favoritism on a software contract issued by Wage-Hour years before. Confident they had been right, Hopper and Walsh had cooperated with Berger and the agency was exonerated.

  About halfway through her salad, Administrator Herman suggested Berger explain the issues and specify what he needed from them. Her pulled-back black hair, dark brown eyes, and stocky build projected an all-business image.

  She worked as an attorney in the private sector before the Labor Secretary drafted her into the federal government. Although she was used to long hours and full schedules, she was starting to regret her decision to join the federal service. The perks failed to cover her lost compensation and the unlimited support provided by her firm. Before long, she would find a way to withdraw her service and return to the private sector.

  Berger passed out copies of the outline he prepared. The three Wage-Hour participants scanned five items listed:

  Impact of the tax certificate.

  Conduct of the Committee Chairman.

  Conduct of the Lieutenant Governor.

  Economic report content.

  Denial of appeal.

  Berger took the floor. His monotone delivery and bland appearance tempted listeners to nod off and count the minutes before he would be done and they could return to their real work. This was his strategy. He would lull them into a comfort zone from which the truth would unintentionally emerge.

  In some important respects, this time was different. The mysterious death of Bloom’s wife and the fact that Bloom was missing and wanted by the police kept all of them on edge.

  “I’m going to review these issues and then ask you for your take on each. If you find my understanding to be incorrect or incomplete, or if there are other issues we should address, now is your opportunity to interject.

  “By the way, I appreciate that none of you have
broached the subject of Dr. Bloom’s current situation. We are certain it has nothing to do with our subject matter and we plan on ignoring it.”

  Of course, Wage-Hour buzzed with rumors and speculation about Bloom’s wife, his disappearance, and the police interest in him. Bloom was viewed as an intellectual with liberal leanings and a penchant for pushing administrations in the name of American workers. Although he hadn’t socialized with his fellow bureaucrats, his profile as a loyal husband and father didn’t fit with recent events.

  Berger began.

  “Three years ago Michael Bloom, then Wage-Hour Chief Economist, administered minimum wage hearings in the U.S. Territory of American Samoa. Dr. Bloom also supervised a survey of wages in American Samoa and preparation of a Samoa Economic Report to guide deliberations of a Special Industry Committee. That Committee traveled to Samoa, participated in the hearings, and determined the minimum wage rate for the Island.

  “As he did at the hearings and on his return to the Department, Dr. Bloom is again claiming that a tax certificate that promised millions to the Samoan Government if the minimum wage was kept low improperly influenced determination of the rate. Also, he claims that conduct of the Committee Chairman, the Lieutenant Governor, and the attorney who represented the tuna industry constituted fraud and abuse.

  “Dr. Bloom, now a private citizen, has asked the I.G. to investigate these allegations. Also, he contacted the General Accounting Office and Senate Labor Committee asking them to make sure our investigation is conducted in a timely and comprehensive manner.

  “If you have no problems with my summary, I’d like to move now to the specific issues I’ve identified.”

  Her salad gone, the Administrator took charge.

  “Now, Howard, I wonder if I might preface our discussion with an observation that I think needs to be emphasized in your investigation and any report you might issue. This process is one that’s carried out by the Special Industry Committee for the independent Territory of American Samoa. We help form the Committee, conduct the wage survey, and produce the Samoa Economic Report.

  “Essentially, a Committee over which we have no jurisdiction owns this process. If you review the governing Regulations, and I’m sure you have, you’ll see we have no power to reject the recommendations of the Committee or to criticize its deliberations.”

  Berger looked into the determined eyes of the Administrator and tried to move along.

  “Of course, the legal question of who is responsible for the Samoan minimum wage process and whether it’s within the jurisdiction of the Department is a key question. My next meeting is with the Office of the Solicitor and I plan on making that one of the first items to be explored. However, at this time, I need to get your view of the concerns raised by Dr. Bloom.”

  The Administrator wasn’t done making her point.

  “Look, Howard, Wage-Hour will provide its full cooperation in this investigation, but it appears to me you’re putting the cart before the horse. First, you need to figure out who’s responsible for the hearings. Also, before we provide our views, you need to meet with the Solicitor to see if it’s appropriate for us to make such observations.”

  Berger was surprised by the Administrator’s position. Before the session, he considered the possible stances she might take. This one was the most extreme. It indicated that the Administration placed a high priority on avoiding the issues. He glanced across the table and saw Hopper and Walsh look away.

  “Well, if you feel you have to wait to see what the Solicitor’s position is regarding your responsibilities, then, I guess that would be that, but, based upon the Fair Labor Standards Act and the duties assigned to this Division, as I understand it, it’s your charge to form the Committee and administer the hearings. If the resulting process is burdened by fraud and abuse, it seems clear to us that Wage-Hour must play a role in cleaning things up.

  “However, if you would prefer to put off these discussions, we would comply. I’m scheduled to meet with the Assistant Solicitor tomorrow. Based upon his stance, we can reschedule.”

  The Administrator knew her position would raise more doubts in Berger’s mind and at the Inspector General’s Office, but she didn’t want to be drawn into the discussion. She was in private practice when Bloom was in Samoa and bore no personal liability. That made her the perfect candidate to slow things down so the powers that be could try to make Bloom’s complaint go away.

  “That’s fine, Howard. Once the Office of the Solicitor defines our proper role, if needed, we can resume.”

  Berger thanked the Administrator, gathered his papers, and left the conference room, walking swiftly toward the nearest bank of elevators.

  ***

  Hearing footsteps gaining on him, he turned to see Frank Hopper, out of breath, trying to catch up. Berger noted Frank’s increased girth in the past few years.

  “Hey, Howard, do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Well, I don’t know what’s going on with this foolishness about responsibility, but I want to express my concern on one point you made.”

  The elevator opened. With no one inside, the two men walked in and let the doors close. Just as the car began to move, Hopper pushed the stop button. A little startled, Berger waited for the Wage-Hour staffer to have his say.

  “Look, Bloom and I didn’t always get along. The guy was a bull in a bureaucratic china shop and he didn’t care if he or his supervisor got burned. He just kept walking forward, pushing his agenda. Regardless of that, I admired the guy. He saw things the rest of us failed to see and he always intended that the Department put workers and the law first. As to his personal life, nothing was more important to him than his wife and kids.”

  “What’s your point?” Berger asked.

  “I’m not convinced Bloom’s recent problems aren’t somehow related to what transpired in Samoa. When the Secretary refused to kill the recommended rates in 2001 and Bloom threatened to blow the whistle, he comes down with some mysterious illness and has to go out on disability. When he recovered enough to press his old complaints, his wife dies in a car crash and he goes missing. I think these events carry coincidence a bit too far.

  “I know Mike Bloom. He would never harm his wife and he would never run from the police without good reason. I also know these aren’t the kinds of issues you investigate, but you should keep an open mind. A lot of irregular moves were made for those hearings and they’ll become clear once the Administrator faces the music and lets us talk with you.”

  Hopper, still short of breath, popped a mint into his mouth.

  “In the meantime, you need to let the scope of this investigation cover more than the usual concerns. I’ve been with the federal government for more than thirty years and, trust me, there’s a curious odor hanging over this case.”

  Berger thanked Hopper for his revelations and promised he would take his suspicions seriously. Back at his desk, Berger wondered how he would fulfill his promise.

  CONSPIRACY

  November 10, 2000 – June 3, 2001

  CHAPTER 20

  THE PROPOSITION

  November 10, 2000

  Honolulu, Hawaii

  George Partain returned to his modest office on one of the quiet streets of Honolulu. Approaching the door, he stopped short to read the black stenciled letters that spelled the name of his agency, Partain Investigations. He smiled to himself, proud he had become much more than the cliché private detective on television and in a hundred paperbacks.

  It was his first day back from another job in American Samoa. This time he was paid to investigate a government procurement officer suspected of taking bribes. George warned the Justice Department in Honolulu this character was too slippery to make a foolish mistake. As he predicted, no evidence was found, but, Partain’s fee was enough to pay off a creditor who was making his life miserable. For him, the job was worth the trouble.

  George began thumbing through the mail he missed. Reclining
in his high-back leather chair, his feet were balanced on an upside-down wastebasket. Most of the envelopes contained late notices; one set a date for the suspension of telephone service. How ironic that a man capable of recovering or generating huge sums for his clients couldn’t stop his own books from bleeding dollars, an embarrassment that haunts most gamblers.

  He shifted his attention to status reports on three open cases when the phone rang. On the fourth ring, George remembered he had given his secretary and assistant the afternoon off. He picked up the receiver.

  “Partain Investigations.”

  A foreign voice with a formal tone addressed him.

  “I’m searching for a Mr. George Partain. Might he be in?”

  George recognized the New Zealand accent.

  “I’m Partain, what can I do for you?”

  “First off, let me wish you a Merry Christmas. I’m sure you’ll be on holiday soon. As I’ve been lucky enough to catch you in, might I offer an invitation?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “My name is Gregory Ponsonby. You did some work for a friend of mine in Auckland, Hamilton Rutherford. He said you were quite imaginative in solving his problem and he recommended you highly.”

  George recalled the case. He found a way to show it was the firm’s controller, and not Hamilton Rutherford, who embezzled funds from their corporation.

  “Why do you need an investigator?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it on telephone. I’d like to arrange a meeting so we can fully explore the situation.”

  George heard the shuffling of papers, as if Ponsonby was checking his notes before continuing.

  “Let’s say I purchase a first-class ticket for you to fly to Christchurch Airport on Friday, January 5. I’ll have a rental car waiting at Hertz. You’ll drive about an hour to the Hotel Canterbury on Racecourse Road. It’s located at the north end of Ashburton, just next to the Ashburton Golf and Race Courses. Why don’t you spend the weekend catching up on your sleep? Try our championship golf course. I’ll ring you at the hotel Sunday evening and we can set up our meeting.”