The Samoa Seduction

by Alan L. Moss

  “Well, rumor is she has been sleeping with Matautu. Three years ago she arrived from China and worked as a waitress at Fantasy Gardens. Now, she’s a waitress at Sophia’s.”

  Michael stood.

  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Genevieve recovered her poise.

  “Will you be staying with us?”

  “Sure, why not? Maybe Room No. 4 will bring me better luck this time.”

  Michael called Island Rentals and had them drop off a four-wheel drive SUV. Given what he might be up against, the extra security of such a vehicle could be important.

  At eight in the evening he climbed behind the wheel and headed to Sophia’s. For Joy’s sake, he had to see if Yun had any information about George’s death.

  He remembered his rendezvous with Stephanie at Sophia’s, how they walked into the calm ocean, threw their clothes onto the beach, and made love under the water. How could he know that the magic of that night would exact such a high price?

  Now, he would get even.

  On Route No.1 he spotted the stone steps that led to Sophia’s and he looked for a parking space. A dozen cars were parked on the side of the road and he pulled over past the last one. He walked back to the restaurant and down the steps.

  Nothing had changed. Up the hill to the right was the bar, still tended by the Godfather. Down the terraced hill, the dinner tables looked about half-full with customers enjoying the night air and the spectacular view of the ocean, a full moon setting behind the water.

  Michael was confident that Sophia and the Godfather would fail to recognize him. He took a stool at the bar and ordered a Grey Goose martini up with olives. The Godfather placed Michael’s drink on a napkin and stared into his eyes.

  “Looks like the storm moved away. We were getting ready to put all the tables under cover. What a pain, mate.”

  “Good thing,” Michael said.

  The Godfather kept looking at Michael.

  “I never forget a face. I’m sure you’ve been here before but I can’t place you.”

  “’Fraid not,” Michael replied curtly, “first time in Samoa.”

  He gazed at Michael for a second longer, gave up, and walked away.

  Michael stayed at the bar sipping two more martinis and downing some coconut shrimp. By ten o’clock most of the guests had gone. Michael asked if he could have a table by the water and order dinner.

  “Sure, mate, take any table. Yun will be glad to serve you.”

  Carrying a martini, Michael walked carefully to an open table, the one he and Stephanie shared. He could see the two of them on the beach, embracing under the moon.

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

  “May I help you?”

  Michael looked into Yun’s eyes. She was striking, a tall Chinese woman with smooth, pale skin. She had large almond-shaped eyes and black shoulder-length hair. She wore a green lavalava with black trim that couldn’t hide her shapely figure.

  “What do you recommend?”

  Yun looked out at the ocean, weighing her suggestions.

  “I would start with grilled octopus and then have lobster dipped in burnt coconut sauce.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Michael responded.

  “And I’d serve it with breadfruit.”

  “Excellent, Yun.”

  The woman paused.

  “How you know my name? Have I served you before?”

  “The Godfather,” Michael answered, nodding toward the bar.

  The food and suggested white wine presented a delicious bouquet of flavors. When Yun delivered a slice of coconut custard pie and coffee, Michael asked her to join him.

  “Have a seat, Yun, and help me finish this wonderful pie.”

  “I can’t eat pie but would be happy to keep you company.”

  Michael looked at Yun and smiled.

  “Tell me, Yun, how long have you been working here?”

  “Almost two years,” she answered. “I like Sophia’s very much.”

  “When did you move to American Samoa?”

  Yun snatched an unused wine glass from another table and poured some of what was left in Michael’s bottle. She took a healthy sip.

  “About three years ago.”

  Michael finished his coffee.

  “Well, I was in Samoa about that time for the minimum wage hearings.”

  Yun tensed and started to stand.

  “Please stay a little longer, Yun. I want to see if you knew an old friend of mine named George Partain.”

  Yun seemed startled. She hid her face behind the wine glass in her hand.

  “Yun, I understand you saw George not long before he disappeared. Is that true?”

  She put the glass of wine down. Michael could see tears in her eyes.

  “Mr. George and I went out few times. I don’t know about his disappearance.”

  Michael reached across the table and held her hand. It was cold and shaking.

  “Yun, I would never hurt you. I just want to know when you last saw George and what he said to you.”

  She wanted to escape but Michael wouldn’t let her go.

  “I saw him the night before he disappeared. We have dinner here. He was very happy.”

  Michael sensed she would open up.

  “Why was he happy, Yun?”

  “I saw George earlier that week. He lost much money at poker. Then, Mr. Matautu agreed to loan him the money he owed. George was very relieved. We celebrated that night. Then, I never see him again.”

  “Did you tell the police about Mr. Matautu and the loan?”

  “No, they never talked to me.”

  Michael put his other hand over the hand he held.

  “Now listen to me, Yun. This is very important. Tell no one of our conversation, especially Mr. Matautu. If you do, you will be in grave danger.”

  CHAPTER 54

  TOO MUCH OF A BAD THING

  July 21, 2004

  Auckland, New Zealand

  “Hey, bro, got somethin’ for you.”

  The prisoner looked at the man who entered his cell last night. He was older, maybe in his fifties, with short gray hair and bad skin.

  “What you say? Chill out, old man.”

  The prisoner rolled over in his cot, away from his new roommate. To survive in prison, he sought to establish superiority. He would talk when good and ready.

  The new man got off his cot and walked over to his target. He looked at the thin scar on his cheek.

  “Look, Jake, I don’t give a shit what you do, but, Mr. M wants you to know how much he appreciates all your efforts. He asked me to deliver a present.”

  The prisoner rolled back over and looked at the man standing close.

  “You’re here for Mr. M?”

  “Yeah, bro, he paying you off.”

  It had been too many days since his last fix. When arrested, he was sent to a prison hospital for three days of detox. They put him on methadone, but it wasn’t the same. His body craved heroin, the object of his life.

  He glanced at his watch. It was before four o’clock. Breakfast trays and inspections were two hours away. He had time.

  The men around his cell slept quietly. It was still dark. The constant smell of sweat and urine oppressed his spirit. When he was on Samoa, all he wanted was to escape. Now, in a New Zealand prison, he dreamed of his home, its beautiful blue water, fragrant flowers, and lush green mountains.

  The man opened his mouth wide and peeled something pink from the roof. He pulled it apart to reveal a plastic container full with a white crystalline material.

  The prisoner’s excitement overwhelmed any caution. His eyes couldn’t leave the substance.

  The man walked back to his bunk and pulled apart the binding from a hardcover book. He spread the tools the prisoner needed on his cot.

  “Be careful, bro. That stuff’s pure bitch.”

  In a few minutes he was done. The prisoner lay back down, eyes closed,
feeling the euphoria he couldn’t find any other way. The deliveryman picked up the tools, cleaned up the remains of the fix, and stuffed everything back into his book. Then, he reattached the trick binding and went back to bed.

  In the next hour, muscle spasms and shallow breathing replaced the prisoner’s sighs of pleasure. His fingernails turned blue and his mouth dried. With pinprick pupils under his closed eyelids, somehow he found the strength to roll over so his body faced the stone wall of his cell.

  He was five years old and back in his village, before the abuse began. He was going home.

  CHAPTER 55

  CLIMAX

  July 22, 2004

  Tafuna Village, American Samoa

  While Stephanie slept, her mother called Rosette and arranged the flight to the Manu’a Island Group, using another name for her daughter. Stephanie would be okay. If they pursued her, she could leave Olosega Island and move to a more remote location. They would never find her.

  Stephanie’s mother opened the guestroom door a crack.

  “Stephanie, it’s eleven-thirty and your flight’s at three. Time to get up and pack. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

  Stephanie didn’t want to move. The bed was warm and cozy. If she could stay there, she wouldn’t have to face any of it.

  “Where are the kids, Momma? I want to see them before I go.”

  Stephanie’s mother walked into the bedroom.

  “Sweetie, the kids are playing in the village. Once you get settled, I’ll bring them to you. In the meantime, you better get packed. We don’t know who arrived on today’s flight from Hawaii.”

  “Okay, Momma. I’ll put some things in a suitcase.”

  Her mother kept much of the clothing Stephanie hadn’t taken with her when she moved to the Mainland. She found shorts, slacks, shirts, and sneakers, ideal for her new location. An hour later she was ready.

  The telephone rang and Stephanie’s mother picked up. She froze. Then, she called for her daughter.

  As Stephanie approached, her mother whispered to her.

  “It’s Genevieve. Tell her you’re on a brief vacation and will see her in a few days. Whatever you do, don’t say where you’re going.”

  Stephanie took the phone and held it to her ear.

  “Hi, G, how’s my best gal?”

  “Steph, is that you?”

  “I thought I’d take a few days on Island. What’s new?”

  “Steph, he’s here.”

  “What do you mean? Who are you talking about?”

  “Michael, Michael is here, staying in Room No. 4.”

  Stephanie’s knees buckled. She caught herself and slid onto the bed.

  “That can’t be. I read he’s wanted by the police for Karen’s murder. What would he be doing here?”

  Stephanie felt dizzy but forced herself to stay in the conversation.

  “You should see him, Steph. His hair’s white and he has a white beard, but those blue eyes and his physique are the same.”

  Stephanie tried to clear her head.

  “Well, what’s he saying? Why is he here?”

  "Steph, he’s talking crazy. He asked who George Partain was doing business with during the hearings.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I tried not to answer but he said if I didn’t level with him I could go to jail.”

  “Jail? What the hell for?”

  “He wanted to know why I drugged him and I admitted that we did it so you two could make love. He got that on tape and said the FBI would investigate me for assault and some conspiracy he’s discovered. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “My God, he knows. He probably knows everything. Who did you tell him George was dealing with?”

  “I said I wasn’t certain but that George once asked for directions to Matautu’s house. Also, I told him George was dating Yun. Was that wrong?”

  A strange calm came over Stephanie. If he knew it all, he should know she meant him no harm. She just wanted a good life for her children. Even though she married Pecura, he should know she still loved him with all her heart.

  “No, Genevieve, that wasn’t wrong. Please, don’t tell him but I’m on my way. He can do whatever he wants with me, but I have to see him and tell him how sorry I am, how much I still love him.”

  ***

  Michael sat on the bed, satisfied he put all the pieces of the puzzle together. With Yun’s words on tape, it was clear George Partain didn’t run away to escape his gambling debt. Why would he run if Matautu agreed to give him the money? George must have been involved in the conspiracy. He became expendable and Matautu had him killed.

  Knowing Matautu was behind it all, Michael concluded it was time to call in the authorities. He would contact the FBI in Honolulu and tell them how he uncovered a plot that led to murder and the black market sale of an untested stem cell cure for diabetes. Corroboration for much of it was on tape.

  Before he could reach for the phone, Michael heard a light tapping at his door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Michael, it’s me, Stephanie. Please, let me in. We need to talk.”

  It was as if a giant wave fell from the sky crushing his spirit. Stephanie was an important part of the conspiracy. Maybe she loved him, maybe not. Ultimately, she was a willing pawn in a scheme that deepened the poverty of Samoa’s workers, marketed an untested stem cell cure, and resulted in Karen’s murder and the killing of George Partain. When Michael rejected her, she poisoned him in Tucson, stealing three years of his life. He could never forgive her.

  But if she had devious motives, what was she doing at his door? Why would she want to face him? How could she face him?

  Slowly, Michael moved to the door and opened it. He looked into her eyes and she started to speak. Before the words left her mouth, Stephanie was shoved violently into Michael and they both hit the floor hard.

  Two young Samoan men entered the room. One shut and locked the door and the other produced a handgun. Michael started to get up and one of the intruders kicked his legs out from under him.

  “Old man, stay where you are. Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas or I may off you before it’s time.”

  Stephanie was in shock. Dressed in shorts and a loosely fitting blouse, she lay on the floor.

  Michael suppressed his fear and forced himself to think logically. The two men had to belong to Matautu. The Samoan official must have felt Michael closing in and determined to make a preemptive strike. His assassin failed in New Zealand so he would get it done in Samoa. If they were like the killer he subdued in Auckland, they might be addicts and not as tough as they appeared. If he saw an opportunity, he would take it.

  Both men were tall and uncharacteristically slender for Samoans. They were dressed in black T-shirts and baggy, khaki pants. One wore a leather band around his right wrist.

  The one with the band walked over to Stephanie. He looked down on her, sprawled on the floor.

  “Now, baby, you goin’ to help us stage a little play. You and the old man will have a lover's quarrel, one I’m afraid neither of you will survive. Before that I’m goin’ to have a little fun.”

  He produced a knife with a long blade and serrated edge and held it to her throat.

  Stephanie froze, terror in her eyes.

  “Now, get on all fours, baby. Let’s see how they tumble.”

  The other man quietly screwed a silencer onto his pistol.

  “What the hell you doin’? M wants this job done and you fuckin’ around.”

  “Just a few minutes, bro. She sweet stuff. Now move, bitch, before I slice that pretty neck.”

  Stephanie moved to get on all fours. The man cut through the back of her blouse with a lightning-fast stroke. Still holding onto the knife, he undid her bra, letting her breasts fall free. He grabbed her right breast.

  “I told you bro, that sweet stuff.”

  Tears fell from Stephanie’s eyes and Michael had had enough. He might die putting up a fight but he couldn’t w
atch her being tortured. As he prepared to spring up into the man with the gun, there was a loud knock at the door.

  A woman’s voice interrupted.

  “Mr. Green, this is the couple next door. Do you have a corkscrew we could borrow?”

  Before he could answer, the door flew open. The man holding the gun flipped forward, falling over Stephanie. The other man sat startled on the floor.

  “FBI! Put down your weapons and lie face down on the floor!”

  In a blur of activity, both men were disarmed and cuffed.

  Michael moved to Stephanie helping her up. Then, he held her in his arms.

  “Dr. Bloom, I’m Agent Hodge and this is my partner, Agent Schnorr.”

  It was the couple at the bar from when Michael checked in.

  “We need to bring these fellows in and then we want to question you. You’ve been under surveillance since Greymouth. It seems the Greens returned from their trip and called American Express looking for their new cards. They reported you and we traced your location. Also, guys from the I.G.’s office and the LBI police convinced us that you were likely a victim, not the perpetrator of Karen’s crash.”

  Michael released Stephanie, both of them shaken but unhurt. She held what was left of her blouse in front of her chest.

  “When all of this is through, I have some people to thank,” Michael said.

  ***

  Michael heard three pops and the sliding glass doors shattered. The man with the leather band crumpled to the floor, blood pouring from his head.

  “Down!” Agent Hodge yelled.

  Michael turned to cover Stephanie but it was too late. Soaked in blood from a bullet to her heart, she collapsed to the floor. Michael knew she was dead but shielded her body from further damage.

  Hodge pulled the other killer through the open door and out into the hall. A shot caught him in the shoulder.

  Hodge cuffed the wounded Samoan to the leg of an ornate hutch in the hallway. He and Agent Schnorr raced through the empty space where the glass doors stood, jumped from the patio, ran across a crude bridge spanning the creek, and took off after the third assailant.