The Samoa Seduction

by Alan L. Moss

  The two walked out to deeper water and Stephanie turned to Michael, pressing her breasts into his chest. They kissed like teenagers experiencing their first love and fumbled about to make love underwater. Laughing at their clumsy but ultimately successful effort, they walked back to the beach holding hands.

  Standing on the shore, dripping wet and looking at the fading moon, Stephanie held Michael tightly and whispered in his ear.

  “If we were as young as we feel, I would have you for my own.”

  CHAPTER 38

  DANGEROUS RONDEZVOUS

  June 5, 2001

  Li’ili Village, American Samoa

  George Partain drove down the dirt road that led to the Lanu-eka Golf Course. Once Gale gave him the cash, he would drive back to the Agelu Lodge and get a good night’s sleep. He planned to spend more time with Yun on Sunday.

  After the hearings on Monday afternoon, he would pay his gambling debt. With that transaction complete, he could focus on what was important. If things went awry at the hearings, he would find a way to get them back on track.

  Sitting in his Jeep in the golf course parking lot, George put down the front windows to enjoy the night air. He lit a cigarette and glanced at his watch. It was ten seventeen.

  He remembered they were meeting at the first tee, not in the parking lot. He wasn’t sure if there was another way to get to the tee, but it occurred to George that his partner might have used a back entrance to avoid being seen with him.

  George opened the door to the Jeep, climbed out, and walked past the practice green and down the hill to the first tee. He thought he saw a figure move behind a tree and he yelled out.

  “Hey, Gale, is that you?”

  No one replied. An alarm went off in George’s head. He was standing on a deserted golf course at night and was a vulnerable target. Maybe Gale’s concern for him wasn’t sincere. After all, thirty million would be twice as nice as fifteen million.

  Several weeks earlier, George began worrying that he might have worked himself into a weak position. All of the parties to their project knew one another. He wouldn’t be needed to move any of the money or assemble other pieces of the puzzle. On the other hand, at Gale’s instruction, he employed an additional operative who remained unknown to anyone else.

  George pulled out his revolver and crouched down making his way to a large palm tree just behind the eighteenth green. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead fed by fear and the moist evening air. He had a clear view of the parking lot and his Jeep. Slowly, he would work his way back to the vehicle and drive directly to Gale’s house to confront him.

  George spotted the next tree that would provide adequate cover and started to run to it, still crouched. About halfway there he heard the screams of fruit bats overhead. Without thinking, he slowed for a split second and looked up. Just then he heard a grunt and whizzing sound and felt something crash into his right temple. He slid down on his side trying to maintain his composure.

  Before a second blow could be delivered, he struggled to his feet and dove into a sand trap next to a nearby green. Blood dripped into his right eye and he wiped it away with his sleeve, breathing hard.

  George didn’t know how many assailants waited for him, but once they had him cornered, he’d be finished. He had no protection behind the trap and was an easy target. Before he could determine his next move he heard a whistling sound and he rolled to his left.

  He saw an ancient Samoan war club half-buried in the sand. Years ago Samoan warriors used a variety of these clubs to expel invaders. This one was a short version, intricately carved out of dark, heavy wood with pointed ends in the shape of a half-moon just above the handle.

  In the distance George spotted what looked like a young Samoan warrior from days past. He aimed and fired three shots in that direction. He thought he heard laughter and running and decided to make a final, desperate dash for the Jeep.

  About a third of the way there another club crashed into his shoulder. This club had a jagged edge and sharp metal spikes that buried in his flesh. The pain jolted his senses forcing a yelp from his lips. George tore the spikes from his body and got off two more shots as he continued his sprint.

  Another club found his head just a few feet from the practice green. Half-conscious, George fell to the ground, losing his revolver.

  As the detective laid motionless, blood pouring from his wounds, three Samoan warriors approached. Through a fog, George stared at his out-of-reach revolver. He was through. He cracked the wry smile of a man who had come too close to his dream.

  The tallest of the three assassins spoke in a hushed voice.

  “We bitchin. Look this poor devil. He nothin but our number two do.”

  “We hummin, we stackin up, bro,” another boy said.

  The remaining teen, the one with a thin scar on his left cheek, produced a machete.

  “That shank,” he said, “it ziggy. He done.”

  George closed his eyes tightly, praying it was just a bad dream.

  Then, the executioner struck the fatal blow.

  ***

  The three trained thugs went into their ordered routine. One produced a large plastic sheet for George’s body. Another collected the war clubs and George’s revolver. The third raked smooth the sand trap and sprayed water on the bloodstains.

  The gang carried George’s body to his Jeep and drove it to a nearby cove. They lugged the corpse to a waiting canoe. One of the boys paddled out to sea where the package was weighted down and dumped. Following detailed instructions, the other boys drove the Jeep to the airport and left it in the long-term parking area.

  Gale knew, when the police investigated George’s disappearance, they would find he couldn’t raise the money to pay his gambling debt. Fearing the wrath of the Koreans, they would conclude George headed out for places unknown.

  HEARINGS FLASHBACK

  June 6, 2001 – June 8, 2001

  CHAPTER 39

  DAY ONE OF THE PUBLIC HEARINGS

  June 6, 2001

  Pago Pago, American Samoa

  MORNING SESSION

  Michael sat at the Fono’s long, rectangular table reviewing his notes, waiting for the first session to begin. The wall of windows behind him brightened the room with morning sunlight. The Fono gallery was full with a hundred spectators anxious to witness the proceedings. Another thirty Samoans waited outside, hoping to get seated before the end of the day.

  Every two years these hearings provided information to a Special Industry Committee whose members set the minimum wage. The influence the hearings had on Samoan life could be seen in the front-page articles in the Samoa Press chronicling each day of the proceedings. With the Governor and the Territory’s non-voting member of the U.S. House of Representatives both scheduled to appear, public interest had climbed to an unprecedented height.

  Michael surveyed those around the table. At one end sat Chairman Paul Pecura; at the opposite end, a dais and three empty chairs set up to accommodate individual presenters and hearing panels. Michael’s side of the table included Claire, Congressman Moe’ai, Eni and Fau. They sat across from Redferd, Echaveste, and Owen.

  Michael’s confidence rose when Congressman Moe’ai approached the table, introduced himself, and complimented the Samoa Economic Report. As the Congressman sat down, his male lavalava, similar to a kilt, inched-up, exposing a traditional Samoan tattoo. These tattoos, which are quite ornate and run from the waist to the knees, are a sign of courage and accomplishment for Samoan men.

  The Chairman

  Before the Chairman introduced the Governor, he spoke eloquently about how the Committee would carry out its mission.

  “This Committee will conduct itself in a manner that reflects the wisdom of the American Samoan people. We will make every effort to be sensitive to the needs of Samoa’s workers and those who employ Samoa’s workers.”

  The Chairman paused as tears filled his eyes.

  “As most of you know, Samoa is the home of my ancestor
s. My father and his father struggled to earn a decent living here. In their memories, I promise I will do all I can to do what’s right for the fine people of American Samoa.”

  With his introductory remarks completed, Pecura presented Governor Tavale Monia.

  The Governor

  Looking well-heeled and confident, Governor Monia took the floor.

  As he had done many times before, he welcomed a group to American Samoa.

  “Thank you for visiting the southern-most boundary of the United States, where America’s day ends. We will do all that we can to make your stay comfortable and productive.”

  Then, reflecting his loyalty to the business community, he repeated the usual arguments against increases in the Territory’s minimum wage: a growing population, inadequate infrastructure, limited natural resources, dependence on federal aid, and the fragile nature of the Territory’s tuna processing industry.

  “In my view, given our financial condition, unfortunately, my friends, we simply cannot afford significant increases to the minimum wage,” he said. “However, my administrative offices will be happy to provide you with any information that will help you to reach your independent decisions.

  “In-between your working sessions, I hope you will have time to enjoy our beautiful Island, its many excellent restaurants, and the warm and friendly people who are my constituents.

  “Now, I will let you get on with your work.”

  With the Governor finished, Pecura called a ten-minute break.

  The Congressman

  The Chairman gaveled the session back in order and introduced Toleafoa Moe’ai, the Territory’s non-voting representative to the U.S. House of Representatives. Michael spoke with the Congressman’s administrative assistant several times over the past few months. The Congressman was a firm believer in raising the minimum wage, but had to stay on reasonable terms with Filet of the Ocean.

  After thanking the Chairman for his kind introduction and complimenting him for being the first Chairman of Samoan descent, the Congressman summarized the plight of the Samoan worker, quoting from Michael’s report:

  “From 1986 to 2000, the American Samoa price index rose by more than half. During the same period, the minimum wage rose by only twelve percent. This widening gap between the minimum wage and the cost of living has been an important factor in forcing six out of ten American Samoans to live in poverty."

  Accelerating his delivery, the Congressman hit his stride, raising his voice as if at a political rally.

  “They will say they cannot afford to pay for a decent standard of living. Yet, in 1999, Samoa’s tuna processor exported more than four hundred and forty-six million dollars’ worth of tuna and received more than eighty million dollars in tariff savings. How can it be that such a thriving industry cannot afford to pay its workers a decent minimum wage?

  “The CEO of Crest Foods, the parent corporation of our tuna company, received sixty-five million dollars in salary and bonuses last year. How can it be that such a corporation cannot afford to pay a decent minimum wage?

  “Our tuna corporation pays no taxes to the IRS, receives tax breaks from the Samoan government, and provides no medical care to their workers. How can it be that such an industry cannot afford to pay a decent minimum wage?”

  Michael glanced across the table at Robert Owen. He didn’t move as Moe’ai spoke and acted as though this attack was nothing new. On the other hand, he had to know that the Congressman’s pro-minimum wage stance was scoring valuable points with the Committee.

  The Congressman began his concluding remarks.

  “Ten years ago, the value of an average worker’s income was sixty-five hundred dollars; today, it is thirty-five hundred. Two years ago, the previous Special Industry Committee set an hourly minimum wage increase of just three cents. In the absence of organized labor on this Island and in response to the pleadings of attorneys for a billion dollar corporation, our workers have been shortchanged.

  “Mr. Chairman, I urge this Special Industry Committee to provide our workers with an increase that will begin to reverse the cruel trends of the past.”

  AFTERNOON SESSION

  The Chairman

  After a lunch break, the Chairman ordered the hearings back into session. Again, the gallery was full. Michael searched the spectators’ faces and saw Stephanie sitting in the front row. She stared at him with a playful look and unhitched the top button of her blouse.

  Michael knew the next few minutes would be a big part of the battle.

  The Economist

  Calmly, Michael rose. He walked to the podium and placed his notes on the dais. He scanned the room and began his remarks.

  “The report you have before you provides convincing evidence that the influence of the minimum wage on American Samoa’s workers is far greater than in most economies because an unprecedented proportion of Samoan workers are paid at or very close to the minimum wage. Furthermore, the effect of Samoa’s low minimum wage can be seen in falling incomes and rising rates of poverty.”

  He presented a slate of compelling arguments demanding significant increases.

  In slow and steady tones, he told them how the low minimum wage rates issued in the past were contrary to the Fair Labor Standards Act, increased income inequality, lowered demand for local goods and services, and encouraged youth to drop out of the labor force and in some cases turn to a life of crime.

  Pausing for emphasis and once again scanning the room, he delivered his closing.

  “I know this minimum wage issue is not easy. You will hear many divergent opinions over the next few days. If you base your decisions on the evidence and the law, I know you will do what’s best for the Samoan people.”

  If Robert Owen was to have any chance of heading off higher rates, he would have to take his best shot now.

  The Chairman

  After thanking Michael for the amount and quality of his work, the Chairman called on the Filet of the Ocean attorney.

  Robert Owen

  Sitting with the corporation’s Director of Human Resources, Owen began his questioning.

  So far, the proceedings were conducted in a calm manner, with fact-finding taking precedence over allegations. Before Owen completed his first sentence, Michael knew the hearings were about to take a radical turn.

  Owen’s face was pink and his tone accusatory and disrespectful.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Bloom. It’s my understanding that you are the principal author of the Samoa Economic Report.”

  Michael explained that many people contributed to the research and writing of the report. Before he could finish, Owen cut him off.

  “Well, my question was, are you the principal author of the report?”

  “Actually, sir, I believe you hadn’t asked a question, rather you told us what your understanding was,” Michael shot back. “However, sure, you can say I am the principal author.”

  Michael knew where this questioning was going. Michael viewed the hearings as a trial to determine whether current minimum wage rates were guilty of being below the norms specified by law. He considered the Committee to be the jury, weighing the evidence and determining whether established minimum wages were too low. If they were declared unacceptable, the Committee would determine the increases required.

  Owen would try to turn everything around. Under his scenario, the Samoa Economic Report and its principal author would be put on trial, cross-examined, and charged with stacking the deck, presenting a false and prejudicial picture of the need for wage increases. If the report and its author were found guilty, the jury would be freed from prescribing higher minimum wages.

  “Mr. Bloom, were you involved in the development of any Samoa Economic Reports previously?”

  “No,” Michael answered.

  Owen repeated the same question, this time asking if any of those credited with assisting in the report’s development had been involved in any of the previous reports on American Samoa, and Michael answered “no.”


  Owen asked if Michael had reviewed the previous reports. Michael explained that after his office completed reports on the minimum wage for the Mainland and the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas, he was asked to take on the Samoa responsibilities.

  “My question was if you had studied the prior reports? I caught your answer as yes?” Owen responded.

  “Yes,” Michael answered.

  “Did you?” questioned Owen, with more than a dose of sarcasm.

  The hearings continued on this basis, with Owen suggesting at every turn that the new report was designed to treat the tuna industry unfairly. He charged that the report didn’t adequately describe bouts of unemployment in American Samoa. When Michael questioned the reliability of Owen’s information, he moved on to another series of questions.

  “Mr. Bloom, if you would turn to page twenty-four of the 1999 report. According to the last paragraph and I quote: ‘Canned tuna has a low per unit profit margin and counts on a high volume of sales to realize a profit.’

  “Now, I can’t find that sentence or a comparable sentence in the 2001 report. Maybe I’m missing something. Is it there?”

  Michael couldn’t remember whether they had intentionally removed the sentence or whether it just didn’t show up in their research. Regardless, he was getting tired, it was close to six o’clock, his day started twelve hours ago, and his patience was wearing thin.