Foot-in-the-door elevator pitch

Jack and Mrs M

Either you bring water to LA or you bring LA to the water.–Noah Cross

Ouch. Thanks for holding it open, Mr Weinstein. Thing is, I’ve got something you’ll want to hear. Chinatown II. Present day. Worst drought since the year dot is baking California to a crisp. Mexicans spray-painting the lawns green. Jake still looks good. Smoking opium with a pubescent Asian he gets a call from a woman who asks if the name Mulwray rings a bell. “It might.” “Evelyn Mulwray was my aunt. And my grandmother.” “Oh, that Mulwray.” Anthea  is an actress, her boyfriend Rolf in deep shit. He’s involved with the Water of Life Foundation, which is part of the old Cross empire. Anthea  says it’s about a deal to drill for groundwater, bottle it and sell it to China. “Sorry kid. No more mousing for this pussycat.” The line goes dead while she’s in mid-sentence. Next day Rolf’s corpse is found with the tongue cut out. Anthea has disappeared. She had cheekbones like Evelyn’s. Jake learns Rolf’s grandfather had been a Kashuba Indian. The Kashuba live on one of the biggest acquifiers in the state. Federal restrictions don’t apply so they can do whatever the hell they want with it. But the band is down to a dozen members. Rolf’s ancestry gives him voting rights. Jake learns he’d been seen with Renwen Zhou, a Stanford-educated Chinese hustler. Jake meets Lester Duprix, head of Water of Life, who wears rawhide chaps and has dried-out scalps in a display case … Oh shit, eighty-four already? There’s more. Jake’s liking for jailbait … how he deals with the drone which follows him around … the love interest with his longtime Chinese bi-friend … Anthea at the peyote-fueled initiation ritual … Don’t you just love it, Mr Weinstein? Jack will love it. You can set up a meeting. Mr Weinstein? Mr Weinstein, don’t go …

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