The Samoa Seduction

by Alan L. Moss

  ***

  Early the next morning, Michael packed his new gear in a valise he purchased at the Army-Navy, got five-hundred dollars on Jim Green’s credit card, settled his bill at the Westland, and slipped the tracking device into a car belonging to three tourists headed to Christchurch. Then, he made his way down to the docks and climbed aboard Rank No. 1.

  CHAPTER 33

  THE CALLER

  July 13, 2004

  Washington, D.C.

  Howard Berger was back in the Wage-Hour Conference Room. It was almost an hour past the time of his scheduled meeting.

  According to the Solicitor, the American Samoan minimum wage process remained the responsibility of the Wage and Hour Division. However, he also found that the recommendations of the Special Industry Committee were not under the Division’s purview. Exactly how those two opinions would affect Berger’s investigation remained to be seen. In any case, he was told to proceed.

  At quarter of five in the afternoon Berger lost it. He just missed his carpool and would have to take the bus home. That would throw his buddies out of the express lane and cost them an hour or more. He would never hear the end of it.

  Leaving his papers on the conference table, he walked down the hall to the Administrator’s office. He approached her secretary, a middle-aged African-American woman with a well-organized desk.

  “Hello, my name is Howard Berger. I’m with the I.G. and I thought I had a three-thirty meeting with the Administrator.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I was supposed to come down to the conference room and tell you the Administrator has been delayed. She said if you can wait, she’ll be here eventually.”

  “What time was that?” Berger asked, more frustrated than ever.

  “I’m not sure, maybe about four.”

  “Well, when the Administrator returns, tell her I’m still waiting.

  “By the way, where is she?”

  The secretary referred to the Administrator’s daily schedule.

  “She’s at a briefing with the Labor Secretary and the White House Liaison.”

  Berger walked back to the conference room, seething. He would wait there until midnight if he had to.

  Just past five-thirty the Administrator stuck her head in the door and told Howard she and her colleagues would be back in a few minutes.

  “I can stay as late as you like, but I’m not sure when Frank and Lauren will have to go.”

  The Administrator and her two staffers entered the room fifteen minutes later. They apologized for the delay, saying they couldn’t leave until the Secretary ended her briefing.

  Berger took charge.

  “When we met on July sixth, I requested your reaction to Dr. Bloom’s charges on five specific issues. Again, I’ll hand out a list of the matters he raised and I’d like each of you to respond. I’m recording this session to make sure I document your comments accurately. Also, I would appreciate it if you could provide your positions in writing within two weeks.”

  With the Administrator in agreement, Berger distributed his list and summarized the first issue.

  “Let’s start with the tax certificate. According to Bloom, the Samoan Government claimed it was in dire need of cash to meet its payroll obligations. The tax certificate required the Territory’s tuna cannery to provide an early tax payment of sixty million dollars, but only if the minimum wage for tuna workers did not increase by more than two percent.

  “According to Bloom, that constituted prejudice against raising the tuna rate further and violated the Fair Labor Standards Act. As I understand it, under that law, rates are to be raised to eventually meet the Mainland minimum wage unless increases will hurt employment levels.”

  Berger turned to the Administrator for her response.

  “Howard, our position is we’re not sure of the certificate’s impact. While those who wanted to increase the rate beyond two percent claimed the certificate impeded their efforts, those who wanted little or no increase could contend that the two percent in the certificate actually acted against their interests. Frankly, we don’t see how it’s possible to weigh how much of a role each variable played. Certainly, Wage-Hour is in no position to tell the Governor of an unincorporated U.S. Territory how he should conduct tax and investment policy.”

  Berger turned to the others.

  “Frank and Lauren, are you of the same opinion?”

  The Administrator interrupted.

  “Howard, I will provide the Wage-Hour position to each of these issues.”

  So, that’s how it’s going to be! Berger thought. Obviously, the Administrator, the two Wage-Hour staffers, the Secretary, the White House Liaison, and likely the Solicitor developed unified positions to steer Berger’s investigation away from any negative conclusions.

  Berger flipped over a sheet on his legal pad.

  “Okay, great. Let’s move on to the conduct of the Committee Chairman, now Congressman Pecura. According to Bloom and the dissenting Committee members, Pecura improperly shelved a proposal for a five percent annual increase in the minimum wage and substituted his own motion for a two percent increase over two years. Does Wage-Hour have a position on this contention?”

  The Administrator took a drink of diet soda and answered.

  “According to the Solicitor, the Committee is empowered to set the rates. How the Committee deter-mines those rates is outside the realm of Wage-Hour’s responsibility and, therefore, it’s not appropriate for us to comment.”

  Berger had to question the reply.

  “So, if a Committee decided to flip a coin to set the rates, Wage-Hour would have no comment?”

  The Administrator kept a straight face.

  “Look, how they determine the rates is the business of the Committee. Our job is to communicate the law and to provide the information they need to follow it. If they want to go their own way, that’s their business.”

  Berger couldn’t resist.

  “My understanding is that in the mid-nineteen eighties a Committee determined that the Samoan minimum wage should be raised to the Mainland rate. Lobbying by tuna attorneys caused Wage-Hour to repeal the decision and form another Committee that issued a much lower rate. How does that square with what you’re saying now?”

  The Administrator took another swig of soda.

  “Quite simply, it doesn’t. While the action of Wage-Hour then might have been permissible, it was not required under the law.”

  Berger plowed ahead. Glancing up at Frank Hopper and Lauren Walsh, he could see embarrassment behind their eyes.

  “The third issue refers to the Lieutenant Governor’s improper communications with the two Samoan Committee members. According to Bloom and one of those members, the Lieutenant Governor pressured them, asking that they support the Chairman’s proposal.”

  The Administrator jumped in.

  “We understand the Committee has a long tradition of caucusing with members and seeking opinions from outside sources. We see no inconsistency with that record.”

  Berger was tiring but determined to get it all on tape. He would analyze the Administrator’s responses later.

  “The next charge concerns recent Samoa Economic Reports. One of the key features of the 2001 report was its adjustment of Samoa’s minimum wages for inflation. Such data detailed how wages have been eroded by the absence of adequate cost of living increases. However, Bloom claims this information is missing from more recent reports, weakening the case for higher minimum wages.”

  The Administrator finished her diet soda and faced her questioner.

  “Howard, I’m no economist and since Dr. Bloom’s departure, Wage-Hour hasn’t had a chief economist. However, the best folks we could find at the Bureau of Labor Statistics claimed the Samoan government esti-mates Bloom used were speculative and would not comply with their standards. Therefore, we ceased up-dating this information.

  “If it’s all right, let me skip to Bloom’s final complaint since it’s getting late and some of us need to prepare f
or a conference tomorrow in Chicago.

  “The Secretary denied his request for appeal of the rates because the Solicitor advised that despite what happened in the mid-eighties, the rates recommended by the Committee should be honored.

  “Finally, in conclusion, we believed his accusations did not sufficiently indicate fraud and abuse.”

  The Administrator gathered her notes and started to get up.

  “So, Howard, those are our responses. As you requested, we’ll get written statements to you in a couple of weeks. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must get on with other business.”

  Before he could organize his papers, they were gone. Howard sat quietly, questioning if he really had a case to prosecute. While Bloom’s charges seemed viable, the Administrator had blunted his claims of a coordinated effort to commit fraud and abuse.

  Maybe it was all a matter of opinion.

  ***

  On the third ring Howard Berger rolled over and clumsily grabbed the phone on his nightstand. The tension from his investigation and the late meeting with the Administrator left him exhausted. He didn’t get home until after eight o’clock and within two hours he fell sound asleep. Now, at one-thirty, a likely wrong number was interrupting his badly needed rest.

  Berger talked into the phone without opening his eyes.

  “Hello?”

  The voice at the other end spoke in a whisper.

  “Howard, get a pen and write this down.”

  “Who the hell is this?” Berger asked.

  “Howard, just do it,” responded the voice.

  Berger got out of bed and returned in a few minutes with a legal pad and pen. He picked-up the phone wishing he had caller I.D.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “First, regarding the tax certificate, Wage-Hour has the responsibility of enforcing the Fair Labor Standards Act. The FLSA specifies the criteria to be used in setting Samoa’s minimum wages. Early tax payments are not one of the criteria and to pretend that sixty million dollars for a territorial government in financial trouble is not prejudicial is absurd.

  “Second, the Committee Chairman’s act of shelving the motion for a five percent annual increase was contrary to Roberts Rules of Order. The Chairman himself stated that this action was taken in response to pleas from his cousin, a high official in the Territorial Government. This again links the rates to the sixty million dollar tax certificate. Also, it gets to the question of enforcing the law. If Wage-Hour would accept a coin toss as the means for setting the rates, how would that fulfill the agency’s responsibilities to enforce the FLSA?

  “Third, the Lieutenant Governor threatening the Samoan members of the Committee does not constitute a caucus. Consulting with outside parties also violates the process specified by law. Interested party information should come through pre-hearing statements and the public hearings. Again, in my opinion, we’re back to the sixty million.”

  Berger was having trouble keeping up and asked his caller to slow down. The man continued, restraining his pace.

  “Fourth, the Administrator’s explanation of why information on inflation was cut from more recent Samoa Economic Reports was misleading. The BLS did say the statistics developed by the Samoan Department of Com-merce failed to follow standard BLS procedures. How-ever, the BLS also said that, in the absence of alternative data, the Samoan estimates were better than nothing.

  “Finally, when Bloom’s initial appeal of the recommended rates was rejected and he threatened to go to the I.G. as soon as he saw the new rates published, the rates were held up. Then, when Bloom fell sick and was taken out of the equation, the rates were released.

  “When he initiated the current appeal, his wife is murdered and he goes missing. Was all that a matter of coincidence or are there forces behind the scenes manipulating events? I don’t know the answer to that question but you need to find out.”

  The caller hung up.

  Berger spent the next few hours writing up this new information, trying to determine its significance. The disclosure of misleading information on the inflation data was especially troubling.

  Again, hearing about the timing of Bloom’s threats and how they might have been tied to his illness and disappearance, and his wife’s murder was the most alarming. At the end of his analysis, Berger concluded that there had to be much more to this case than had been revealed thus far.

  In fact, he toyed with an extreme course of action, one he hadn’t considered in his long career in the federal service. Maybe it was time to bring in the FBI.

  CHAPTER 34

  THE HILL

  July 13, 2004

  Washington, D.C.

  Her beauty proved difficult to describe. It was more than the alluring brown eyes, high cheekbones, classic nose, and full lips.

  She stood nearly six feet tall, her dark brown hair acting as a crown, twisted into thick braids and piled atop her head. Her skin looked young and smooth, a light tan with faint pink shading about her cheeks. She moved with the grace of royalty, knowing and invincible. Behind it all — behind the tailored suit from Saks, the Loeffler Randall pumps, and the cultured salt water pearls — had to be untold wealth and the unmistakable confidence that comes from marrying a U.S. Congressman.

  Beyond those attributes, she possessed the unspoken, carnal properties — full breasts, shapely hips and legs, and a supple physique maintained by working out with a personal trainer three times a week.

  Quietly, they sat in the Congressman’s conference room, deep in the Rayburn House Office Building. It seemed as though no one wanted to begin.

  Officer Kiley of the LBI police, Bob Kite of the New Jersey State Police, and Robert Saterra, the State of New Jersey’s Congressional Liaison, sat on one side of the conference table. Stephanie and Congressman Pecura’s aid, Bruce Blair, sat opposite her inquisitors.

  The speed with which this meeting was arranged was part luck and part design. Officer Kiley pressed for a meeting right away. He believed that Stephanie could be key to establishing a motive in Karen Bloom’s death. If he could tie Michael and Stephanie together in an adulterous relationship, that, plus the quarter of a million dollars in life insurance would clinch it for a prosecutor.

  At first, the Congressman’s Office questioned the need for such a session. Then, out of the blue, they informed Robert Saterra that Stephanie would be in Washington on the week of July seventh and would be glad to help them any way she could.

  They met at the Trenton train station at seven thirty that morning, caught the Metroliner, and sat together to go over their strategy. According to Saterra, this could not be a routine interrogation. Questions would have to be delicately constructed. Respect for the Congressman and his wife would have to be maintained.

  While her questioners huddled on the Metroliner, Stephanie met with Congressman Pecura and Bruce Blair. It was Blair who convinced them not to avoid the police. Such a position would only make her pursuers more zealous. Blair believed his employer’s wife was not guilty of any wrongdoing. Therefore, he counseled Stephanie to answer all questions honestly and completely.

  The night before, in the Congressman’s Watergate apartment, Stephanie and Paul Pecura went over issues that might be raised. Did the police know that Stephanie had drugged Michael and pursued him to create a distraction from his work in American Samoa? Did they know Stephanie poisoned Michael in Tucson, allowing the illegitimate minimum wage rates to go into effect uncontested? Were the police initiating another investigation into the disappearance of George Partain? Were they aware of the divergence of the sixty million dollars intended for the Samoan Treasury? Did they know of the millions in profits made through the black market sale of Health-Cell’s untested stem cell cure for diabetes?

  They found it impossible to answer yes to any of these questions. No one could have uncovered the secrets behind their good fortune. The conspiracy would defy efforts to unravel its deep web of unlikely deeds and connections. Therefore, they maintained a firm belief that their ideal lifestyl
e would continue forever.

  Meeting with the police would be a simple matter. The investigators had to be grasping at straws, hoping Stephanie would reveal a relationship that might form a motive for murder. Stephanie would tell them all she knew about the innocent side of her involvement with Michael Bloom. If potentially incriminating issues surfaced, she would deny any knowledge.

  ***

  Now, sitting opposite these men from the police, sweaty from their walk between Union Station and the Rayburn Building, Stephanie wasn’t certain she could pull it off. What if she couldn’t avoid stepping on one or more landmines?

  In fact, she was not the regal character she portrayed. She was a sweet Samoan girl, pretty, smarter than the other kids, and exceptional in sports. She even won a scholarship to an Ivy League college and graduated in four years, and now, she was the wife of an attractive congressman.

  But underneath, in her gut, she knew she was in over her head. If they scratched through the facade, they would find a tortured creature who sold her soul for the good life. Maybe it was for the benefit of her children, maybe not. Regardless, she peddled herself for money. The resulting guilt never left her.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it. She poisoned the man she loved, stealing three years of his life and causing untold suffering. Now that Karen was dead, Stephanie could add that tragedy to the list. What kind of monster had she become?

  What if she had to face Michael again? The answer was easy; she would get down on her knees and beg him to forgive her. She would plead for him to love her again, to bring back the days and nights when they satisfied their lust for one another. She still loved him and believed he could not resist her.