The Samoa Seduction

by Alan L. Moss

  Matautu walked to the bar and mixed a Grey Goose martini. He would stay calm. He hadn’t risen to these heights by panicking when things got tough. With the FBI getting close, he put strict limits on whom he would contact and how communications would be made. For all he knew, his phones at home and in the office were already under surveillance.

  He sat back down in his favorite lounge chair. The dark rings under his eyes extended downward, reflecting worry and lost sleep. A black cloud covered the sun and a stiff breeze blew in off the water.

  He remembered the briefing he and the Governor received Saturday afternoon. Although the weather was usually calm this time of year, they were informed that a storm might be brewing just north of the Cook Islands. If that happened, he would have to drop everything and coordinate preparations.

  Thinking over his options, Matautu reached two conclusions. First, if Bloom showed up on the Island, he would try to get Stephanie and Michael together. If he could have them killed and make it look as though they had a lover's quarrel, the FBI’s suspicions regarding the hearings might just go away.

  They might figure that the two had been romantically involved, planned Karen Bloom’s death, and fought over how to divide the insurance money. With Bloom gone, the secrets behind the hearings might remain hidden.

  Second, he would deal with his jailed assassin. That stupid shit couldn’t even kill a goddamned economist. He didn’t deserve to live. Pleased with his plans, Matautu decided to seek some pleasure, relieve the pressure. He picked up the telephone and dialed.

  “Yun, I need you.”

  CHAPTER 51

  REFUGE

  July 20, 2004

  Tafuna Village, American Samoa

  Stephanie sat on the edge of the couch. The kids were in bed and the house was quiet. Outside, a strong wind attacked the plants lining a stone walkway winding through the front yard. A large hibiscus bent over and pink petals filled the air.

  “Momma, the new house looks great. I love all the furniture you picked out.” The old lady, her white hair up in a bun, looked lovingly at her daughter.

  “Well, my dear, when you have a child who pays for it all, the rest is easy. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

  Stephanie peered out the picture window at the gathering storm. “The wind has really picked up. Some of those palms could snap.”

  Stephanie’s mother sat in a chair opposite the couch.

  “Sweetie, why are you here? You weren’t planning a visit for three more months.”

  “I never could fool you, could I, Momma?”

  Her mother assumed a more serious pose, her right hand up to her chin.“Is there trouble with Paul? Is he not treating you well?”

  “No, Momma, Paul has been wonderful. The problem is … I think we’re both in trouble. I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

  Stephanie’s mother left her chair and walked over to her daughter. “Now, you get off that couch and give me a big hug. Whatever it is, I love you and we’ll work things out. I just wish your father were here to help.”

  The two embraced and Stephanie cried as she had when she was a little girl. Once she regained her composure, they moved to the kitchen. Over tea, Stephanie leveled with her mother. “I’m not going to tell you the details. That may get you in trouble, too. The truth is both Paul and I have done things for money, things we shouldn’t have. He knows more than I do.

  “Now that the FBI is interested in what we’ve done, I don’t know where to turn. Momma, I can’t lose the kids and go to jail. I did what I did for them, to get enough money to move them to the Mainland, to live a good, safe life.”

  Her mother took a sip of tea. A tear escaped her left eye and she wiped it away.

  “Sweetie, did you hurt anyone?”

  Stephanie drank some tea and thought through her answer.

  “Paul told me that, overall, what we did actually helped thousands of people, people suffering from a deadly disease; but I know what I did hurt the one man I truly love. I know his wife died because of what we’re mixed up in. Momma, I had no idea. I never would have …”

  Stephanie broke down, crying uncontrollably and hugging her mother. Once she calmed down, her mother spoke.

  “God will not blame you for consequences you couldn’t anticipate. Can you go to the FBI and explain that you didn’t know what would happen?”

  The air conditioning clicked on and Stephanie, in shorts and a T-shirt, felt a chill. She shivered as she considered the trap she was in.

  “No, Momma, I can’t go to the FBI.”

  “Where is Paul? Why isn’t he here?”

  “Paul’s in Washington. As a congressman, he thinks he can work something out with the Government, but I’m not sure how that will affect me.”

  “If you can’t go to the authorities and you’re not sure about Paul, we must find you a good attorney. Do you still have money?”

  “Yes, Momma, plenty.”

  “Okay then, you get some sleep. In the morning I’ll call Matautu and see if he knows whom we should hire. He’s the slickest man I know.”

  Stephanie’s eyes opened wide.

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that. Galeai has been behind everything.”

  The color drained from the old woman’s cheeks. She turned away, looking outside at the palms bending in the wind. She turned back to face her daughter.

  “That changes things. Opposing Matautu is never wise. Does he know you’ve returned?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  “Well, maybe the best thing to do is leave the kids with me and go into hiding. You could stay with your old teacher, Rosette. She moved to Olosega three years ago. She’d love the company. When all the fuss dies down, you could come home.”

  “Yes, Momma. I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

  Stephanie walked into the guest bedroom. She stripped and climbed under the covers, curling herself into a fetal position. Deep inside, she knew it was too late to be saved.

  CHAPTER 52

  TOTE THAT BARGE

  SOUTH PACIFIC OCEAN

  July 20, 2004

  “Grab hold of that line, secure it.”

  Michael was getting used to orders from Captain Rank. He found it liberating to be out to sea, no land in sight, and no fear of the forces trying to kill him. He was always busy. If he wasn’t helping the crew, he feigned interviews with them for his invented publication, Deep Sea Magazine.

  Few of the sailors on board were there by choice. They were men who flunked out of high school, were divorced with too many kids to support, or just down on their luck. Life on the purse seiner removed them from an unreceptive world and paid more than they could expect anywhere else.

  Of course, life at sea wasn’t easy. The frigid air and waters of the Tasman Sea battered the ship, forcing most of the crew to huddle below in cramped, dark quarters. Once in the South Pacific, all of that changed. Mild breezes and beautiful sunsets made it a joy to stay on deck and soak in the surroundings.

  Michael was amazed by how efficiently the men manipulated the nets, setting them in circles around the trawler. Then, after several hours, mechanical arms pulled them up, full of tuna. The struggling fish hung over the side, captured by hundreds of yards of nylon mesh. Then, the crew sprayed the tuna with brine and transferred them to the cold rooms below.

  After a couple of days in the South Pacific, the swells began to rise and the captain received warnings of a possible storm.

  “We’ve seen cyclones with winds of one-hundred and sixty miles per hour. With tons of fish below, we can’t risk being hit by a rogue wave. We’re heading straight to Pago Pago Harbor.”

  ***

  First thing the next morning Rank yelled across the bow. “Michael, we’ll see her before too long.”

  Every man on board stared at the horizon. The wind had picked up and whitecaps dominated the sea. The sky looked uneven, mostly light blue with puffs of dark clouds moving quickly. The safety of Pago Pago Harbor would be a
welcome sight.

  “There she is,” cried one of the fishermen stationed above.

  Michael strained his eyes. Soon, a green sliver appeared off in the distance. Relief spread through the men who were unusually quiet. Once again, they joked around and talked about what they would do in American Samoa while waiting for the storm to pass.

  The ship’s GPS equipment marked the path to the dock where they would unload their catch. Slowly but surely, they moved closer to the harbor. The water was fairly smooth once they got inside the ring of green mountains that protected the Harbor. Docking and unloading would be routine.

  Standing on deck, Michael surveyed the scene. Dramatic green cliffs plunged straight into the sea. He remembered how years before he saw the harbor from land. Now they were far enough away from the tuna plant to make the view a more pleasing sight.

  Once docked, the men began transferring the fish. Michael gathered his things and went ashore. He walked around the dock and climbed the steps to a tuna processing station. He gazed at a line of workers who stood on a metal deck, spraying a load of fresh tuna. Those women and their poverty wages had sparked Michael’s initial obsession with Samoa and its cruel economy.

  Less than three years ago Michael was in the Territory fighting to raise the standard of living for such workers. He spent a year preparing for the hearings and thought he knew everything. In fact, he knew next to nothing. Certainly, he knew nothing of the conspiracy that ruined his health, murdered his wife, and turned him into a fugitive.

  Now, he knew most of it. Soon, he would know the last piece, the name of the Samoan government official who masterminded the plot. Once he had that name, he would fight back with a fury no one could expect.

  CHAPTER 53

  EDGY CONSULTATIONS

  July 21, 2004

  Li’ili Village, American Samoa

  Michael hitched a ride to Pago Pago with a relative of one of the fishermen. Before that, he said goodbye to Captain Rank, thanked him for the interesting trip and information, and paid him his fee.

  “Don’t forget to send me a copy of that article. I expect you’ll make us fishermen famous.”

  The captain, always skeptical of Michael’s motives, said so long with a wink and a handshake.

  Once in Pago Pago, Michael found a taxi to the Agelu Lodge. Approaching the hotel where he and Stephanie began their affair, her presence invaded his memory. He told this woman he loved her. He craved her body and leaned on her for moral support during the hearings. Was it all a con as Joy thought or was there a part of Stephanie that really wanted him, wanted to go away with him, start a new life?

  “Okay, bud, that’ll be fifteen dollars.”

  Michael shook himself out of his thoughts and observed the surroundings. They were in the parking lot just below the hotel, the lot from where Stephanie led Michael back to her room.

  “You all right, bud? That’s fifteen.”

  Michael reached into his pocket and gave the man a twenty. He grabbed his bag and left the cab. He climbed the hill to the hotel and turned to look at the patio where they dined and got to know one another.

  It looked pretty much the same. The patio stone had been replaced and the open area where they ate dinner now had a thatch roof, fale style, but, basically, it remained as he remembered.

  He wondered if Genevieve would remember him. She served up the Ava that drugged him. Odds were she was involved in the conspiracy, too. He didn’t care. He needed to plow ahead.

  Michael pushed open the sliding glass door and walked into the small lobby. Genevieve stood behind the bar that also served as a registration desk. She was mixing drinks for a couple who appeared on vacation.

  “Welcome to my lodge. I’ll be with you in one moment.”

  “No hurry,” Michael said.

  Genevieve finished mixing two pina coladas, topped them off with shredded coconut and umbrella stir sticks, and served them to her guests. Then, she turned to Michael.

  “I have two beautiful rooms available. Both have private baths, TVs, and nice views. Room Three looks out on the golf course and Room Four has a patio on the creek that runs along the back of the lodge. How long will you be with us?”

  Michael stared at Genevieve, waiting for her to recognize him. When that didn’t happen, he replied.

  “Well, how long I’ll be with you is an open question. Maybe, for old time’s sake, I’ll take Room No. 4.”

  Genevieve walked out from behind the bar and took a fresh look at this man. The white beard and hair seemed out of place. Then, she focused on his eyes.

  Michael was startled when she threw her arms around him and wept.

  “My God, Michael, what happened? We read the story in the Press about you and your wife. None of us believed it.”

  The couple at the bar looked at them and then away, continuing a quiet conversation.

  Recovering from her shock, Genevieve suggested they talk in the lodge’s small office. Michael followed and she closed the door.

  “What are you doing here? How can I help?”

  Before he could answer, she sat down behind a table with wrought iron legs and an antique wooden top inlaid with pink flowers and green leaves. Michael got comfortable on an upholstered chair opposite the table.

  He decided to hit her hard, right away.

  “That night after golf, when you gave me Ava, why did you drug me?”

  Nervously, Genevieve lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the air.

  “Look, Michael, you must have known Stephanie had fallen in love with you. She loved you before she ever set eyes on you. You had her with your phone calls, but, she knew you were devoted to your wife and wouldn’t commit an indiscretion unless we helped things along. So, I slipped a sleeping pill into your Ava. We couldn’t have dreamed the horrible events that eventually followed.”

  Michael stared at Genevieve, trying to assess her response. After an uncomfortable lull, he continued.

  “Let’s talk about George Partain.”

  She took another drag.

  “What about George? He still owes me for his room three years ago. The story was he lost big at cards and took off because he couldn’t pay up.”

  Michael looked into her eyes.

  “Look, Genevieve, he never returned to his agency in Hawaii. A man who runs a detective agency doesn’t lose at cards and abandon his business, his staff, and his friends.”

  Her cheeks blushed. “So, what are you saying to me, that I killed him, that I know something about his death?”

  Michael leaned forward in his chair.

  “Genevieve, three years ago, when I was here for the hearings and George was at your lodge, who was his business partner? He had little interest in Justice Department matters or the minimum wage hearings, so what was he doing in American Samoa?”

  Genevieve crushed her cigarette in a white ashtray that looked more like a candy dish.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, who did he meet? He claimed to be working on the Hay case, but I know he also had business with someone high up in the Samoan Government.”

  She started to reach for another cigarette and thought better of it.

  “Michael, how the hell should I know?”

  Michael shifted in his chair.

  “Genevieve, if you’ve decided not to cooperate with me, you should reconsider. I’ve been taping our conversation. Your admission that you drugged me is proof of assault. I can fly back to Hawaii and have a warrant sworn out for your arrest. I’d hate to do it, but you’ll end up in jail and all you’ve worked for will be in jeopardy. I know you have influential friends but federal authorities are involved now and your friends will do you no good.”

  Anger flashed in Genevieve’s eyes.

  “I should throw you the hell out. This is what I get for being nice to you, getting you together with a wonderful woman, my best friend at that. Regardless, tape recordings aren’t evidence in court.”

  Michael softened his tone. “They may n
ot be allowed in court but your admission will be enough to get the FBI to focus on you. Look, I know you weren’t aware of everything that went on. For that matter, I can’t believe Stephanie knew either, but, I now know what was transpiring behind the scenes. If you’re implicated in the scheme I’ve uncovered, you’ll go to prison and never see the light of day. I’m talking about accessory to murder, attempted murder, illegal sale and use of untested drugs, kidnapping, and more.”

  Genevieve went white, her fingers shook, and she lit another cigarette.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I need to know who George was dealing with and who was the last person to see him before he disappeared?”

  Genevieve flicked an ash into the dish and cleared her throat. “I’m not certain who George was working with that week, but, he did ask directions to Galeai Matautu’s house.”

  Michael followed up quickly.

  “Who is Matautu?”

  ”He’s First Deputy to the Governor. Actually, the Governor is his cousin. Matautu’s also the leading candidate for the governor’s race in November’s election.”

  “What kind of a fellow is Matautu?”

  Genevieve paused, deciding to measure her words carefully.

  “He’s shrewd and powerful. As I told George, you should be very careful if you get involved with him.”

  “Perhaps George wasn’t careful enough,” Michael said. “Now, can you remember who George saw just before he disappeared?”

  Genevieve seemed to relax.

  “No, I really can’t. The police asked me that, too. The only other person George socialized with was Yun.”

  “Who is Yun?”