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INT. OFFICE OF NATIONAL DRUG CONTROL POLICY - DAY

Robert and Sheridan enter the office of outgoing Drug Czar,

GENERAL RALPH LANDRY, 60's, buzz-cut, professional soldier

with a sense of humor.

Landry is putting some personal items in a box.

GENERAL LANDRY:

Jeff, you want to excuse us for a

minute?

Sheridan nods and leaves.

GENERAL LANDRY:

(bemused, off

Sheridan's exit)

Functionaries. Nice people, the

Schedule C's. About twelve graduate

degrees apiece, but it seems sometimes

all they do is start rumors.

Robert and Landry shake hands.

ROBERT:

You've done a fine job here, Sir.

The Office of National Drug Control

Policy is in better shape than when

you found it.

Landry tries to determine whether Robert believes this. He

looks around the office as if the policy is hiding somewhere.

GENERAL LANDRY:

I'm not sure I made the slightest

difference.

(wistful)

I tried... I really did.

ROBERT:

There are a lot of encouraging

statistics. The work's just started,

but I intend to see it through.

You've got my word on that.

GENERAL LANDRY:

You're here for two years, three

maximum. What'd they promise you?

Court appointment? What? District?

Appeals?

(checks Robert's

reaction)

Not Supreme... Supreme?

ROBERT:

I've come in to do a tough job and

that's what I'm going to focus on.

General Landry SIGHS.

GENERAL LANDRY:

When Kruschev was forced out, he sat

down and wrote two letters and handed

them to his successor. He said "When

you get into a situation you can't

get out of, open the first letter

and you'll be saved. And when you

get into another situation you can't

get out of, open the second." Soon

enough this guy found himself in a

tight place. So he opened the first

letter. It said, "Blame everything

on me." So he blamed the old guy

and it worked like a charm.

(beat)

He got into another situation he

couldn't get out of, so he opened

the second letter, which read, "Sit

down and write two letters."

They stare at each other a beat. Then Landry smiles.

CUT TO:

EXT. MANOLO'S STREET, MEXICO - DAY

A cinderblock house. Kids and dogs in the street. A face

we recognize as Manolo's peers out of a curtain into the

street.

INT. MANOLO'S KITCHEN - DAY

The ceiling is stained, the floor sags. A cheap radio plays.

Manolo is at the door. Javi sits at a dinette table.

He talks to Manolo but watches Manolo's wife, ANNA, 20's, a

nice-looking, ostensibly demure young woman, as she moves

around the kitchen.

JAVIER:

Relax. If they were going to kill

us they would have done it in the

desert.

MANOLO:

They wouldn't do it in front of all

these people. They'd send someone

later, when we're alone.

Manolo tenses, and throws open the window.

MANOLO:

(yelling out the window)

Away from the car. Now!

MANOLO'S POV out the window as KIDS play in the car, sitting

behind the wheel.

JAVIER:

Even if that were true, they're not

going to come to your house where

you're waiting for them.

ANNA:

He's right. They'll do it when you're

walking somewhere, make it look like

street crime.

MANOLO:

Shut your f***ing mouth. Nobody's

talking to you.

Anna sets a cup of coffee in front of Javi and stares at

him.

INT. POLICE SEDAN - DAY

Javi and Manolo cruise through the streets of Tijuana.

JAVIER:

If you want her to stay out of it,

then stop telling her everything.

You should learn how to keep a secret.

MANOLO:

She's nosy. She hears me on the

telephone.

JAVIER:

Anyway, I don't think we'll ever see

them again. Everything's back to

normal.

EXT. TIJUANA STREET - DAY

Tourist hell. A cacophony of street venders, panhandlers,

and vehicular traffic. Javier and Manolo are speaking with

a flustered young American TOURIST COUPLE.

TOURIST WOMAN:

You're a police officer. Aren't you

going to take a report or something?

Don't you want to know what kind of

car it is?

TOURIST MAN:

It's a Brown Ford Explorer --

TOURIST WOMAN:

It was right here. It's been stolen.

I want to file a report.

MANOLO:

Please. Filing a report will not

help you find your car.

JAVIER:

The police won't find your car.

TOURIST WOMAN:

But you're the police.

Javier pulls out a note pad and scribbles a number.

JAVIER:

Call this man, he'll find your car

for you.

TOURIST MAN:

I don't get it --

TOURIST WOMAN:

How will this guy know who has our

car?

JAVIER:

The police will tell him.

There's a beat of confusion.

TOURIST MAN:

Why will they tell him but they won't

tell us?

TOURIST WOMAN:

(getting it)

Because we pay him, stupid.

(to Javier)

Right? And he pays the police.

And then our car appears.

JAVIER:

Yes. Better than filling out forms,

right?

The man reaches in his wallet and offers Javier a twenty.

Javi waves him off.

Javier and Manolo walk back to their squad car when two SUV's

come to a stop in front of them.

Javier and Manolo exchange a look. The doors SLAM and

FOOTSTEPS approach.

OFFICER (O.S.)

Javier Rodriguez.

CUT TO:

EXT. LA JOLLA GOLF AND TENNIS CLUB - DAY

A ladies luncheon in the Nancy Reagan Dining Room overlooking

a putting green. The bejewelled WIVES of successful men

yammer at one another around tables with rich flower

centerpieces.

SUPERTITLE:
LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA, JUST OUTSIDE SAN DIEGO

One wife, HELENA AYALA, 32, ex-model, with a sweetness and

intelligence that almost contradicts her beauty, stares out

the window at a small BOY, 5, using a putter as tall as he

is. Helena is six months pregnant and radiant.

A waiter brings Helena's starter course. Her friends, NAN

DOBBS, early 40's, post Junior League, a little tipsy,

STEWIE and ALEX, same League, watch her --

NAN:

Duck salad?

HELENA:

Mmm.

Nan can't believe it.

NAN:

Helena, you never order duck salad.

HELENA:

Well, that's true. I don't.

(re:
her belly)

I think someone else is asking for

it.

NAN:

Well, he's got good taste. Isn't it

the most wonderful thing you ever

tasted? I mean ever.

HELENA:

It's delicious --

STEWIE:

They're the most marvelous little

creatures. Canard. They fly, swim,

walk. And so cute with their babies

marching along behind.

NAN:

Looking for a nice sauce ala orange.

Everyone laughs. Helena is by far the youngest in her crowd.

ALEX:

It's a very fatty bird. All that

winter insulation. Just like me.

NAN:

You mean all breast, just like you.

ALEX:

You're bad --

NAN:

(singsong)

Jealous, that's all --

HELENA:

I've heard... I can't remember

where... That it's full of that good

kind of fat, the kind you're

supposed to eat --

STEWIE:

Unsaturated fat --

TWO WOMEN IN UNISON

Polyunsaturated.

HELENA:

And now there's a good cholesterol

and bad cholesterol. Everything

they tell you completely changes

every other week. I don't know why

they think we should listen at all.

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