This is a dramatic motion picture portrayal of the conspiracy to assassinate Diana Princess of Wales and her lover Dodi Fayed.

The plots within plots unfold as the complex planning gets underway to orchestrate the murders, and make them look like an innocent road traffic accident. How the British Secret Services, hand in hand with their French counterparts brought about the violent end to The People's Princess and the man with whom she had planned to start a new life.

The story, a fascinating mix of fact and fiction starts with the most powerful men at MI6, men more powerful than the Prime Minister himself, ordering the demise of Diana: "We can't have the bastard son of an Arab, a bloody Muslim anywhere near the throne of England". Through to the unforgettable scenes, the outpouring of grief the world over. Scenes which shocked each and every one of us, no less those who conspired to commit this act of murder most secret.

Even though the absolute proof isn't there, this movie will draw more people into the secretive, sinister and fascinating world of conspiracy theories. Casting the seeds of doubt over a much wider audience.

When a world Icon, like Princess Diana is at the centre of this evil illusion, there isn't any room for error.

In a bar just off Trafalgar Square..

Our story starts in a bar just off Trafalgar Square, it's a sunny summers evening in early July, 1997. Office workers are spilling onto the pavement outside the bar, the crowd are soaking up the remains of the day's sunshine, totally oblivious to the man in the light weight summer suit squeezing between them.

The inside of the bar is practically empty. For our man in the summer suit it's easy to spot the contact who had been described to him in immaculate detail. Positioning himself on the opposite side of the bar, on a stool facing his contact, our man, Michael King orders himself, a little louder than usual, a 'Pimms Royale please'. The rather appropriately named drink is the coded trigger the contact was waiting for. Just a slight flick of the eyes towards Michael is all that is needed to sign the death warrant for the Princess and Dodi Fayed. Yes, it's a cliché from any spy film you care to name, but it's far safer than any other form of modern day communication.

With the mission now confirmed, Michael swigs his 'Pimms Royale', opens his newspaper and relaxes at the bar. To have downed this rather expensive cocktail would bring far too much attention to himself. So Michael makes the most of the moment, his eyes glazed over, not reading the paper at all. His mind was rushing way ahead, he was mentally noting the agents who he would now recruit to carry out what was to become the biggest media frenzy the world has ever witnessed.

'Double D-Day' is scheduled for the end of August..

There wasn't much time, 'Double D-Day' is scheduled for the end of August, the exact date would be confirmed as soon as every detail is in place. 'Double D-Day' was the perfect operation code, of course it connected itself neatly to that famous day back in 1944. However, the 'Double D' will only become obvious when those few who need to know are told of the object of the operation. The murders of Dodi and Diana.

Where to start? The recruiting of the fake paparazzi, who will become scapegoats. The infiltration of Al Fayeds staff at the Ritz Hotel in Paris. The men paid millions, the men who make it possible to pull off the assassination that will stun the entire world. The men who will never speak a word of this conspiracy for fear of their lives, and their families lives.
With everyone in place, and there were as few in place as could possibly be managed, or the security of the entire operation would be flawed. It was time to action the last piece of this treacherous jigsaw, the car in which the Princess and her new love were to meet their untimely end. This part of the entire drama has never been picked up on, not by the media, the French police, or the public enquiry which so expensively delivered a verdict of death by natural causes. The only report of any kind to hit the British press was the report that the Mercedes S Class, only a few weeks prior to the accident, had its computer stolen.

Several of the agents were to question this route to the fatal crash. "There's no market for stolen computers from luxury cars like this, who's going to believe that a couple of kids have nicked a piece of kit like that?" Even so, that was the story which would be leaked to the press.

It also seems improbable that no one was going to question why the Mercedes was off the road for 14 days, when it only takes a Mercedes dealer about an hour to replace the vehicle's computer. This particular car was never to see the inside of a Mercedes workshop, indeed not. The secret services very own technicians were the ones with their heads under the bonnet of this S Class. The boffins would replace the computer, not like for like, but with far more sophisticated technology. Technology that would turn Al Fayed's own luxury saloon into an assassin's weapon. For the replacement computer was now capable of being controlled, remotely. The 'tampered with car', the Mercedes S Class is the key to this entire plot. The car's vital controls can now be operated by external means, it's fuel injection, acceleration and it's braking system can now be overridden, operated by someone other than the driver, someone not even in the car at all. As we will see, the '14 days' in which the car is off the road are used for rigorous testing in the French countryside. That testing proves it works well, so well that even the most professional of agents find the car difficult to control and they haven't been drinking glass after glass of 'spiked drinks'.
Now a car is needed from which to drive the Mercedes S Class. A faceless car, a car that's identity has been changed in the same way the secret services give people new identities. There, covered in dust, sitting in a Parisian lock up is the exact vehicle, purchased by the secret services many years previously for just such a mission, a white Fiat Uno. An anonymous car,that without any effort will very easily blend into the hustle and bustle of an August evening in Paris without attracting the slightest attention. The choice of the Fiat driver, and computer operative is to prove much more difficult. This agent needs all the skills necessary to create the fatal road accident, without raising the slightest suspicions, the entire operation is literally in his hands. One false move and there will never be another chance to 'do away with' the world's most loved woman.

To bring in Jean Charles Boisseau from the Camargue was an inspirational choice. Not only was Jean Charles the perfect fit for 'remote operations', he was known only to Michael King, the guvnor of the MI6 team in control of double D- Day, one of the UK's brightest and most experienced 'Spooks'. Jean Charles wouldn't attract a second glance, unless of course you wondered when the last time his unkempt hair had come in contact with shampoo.

With the possibility of a full dress rehearsal out of the question, the key players run through their sinister plans time and time again. The rehearsals are tiring, albeit no one ever leaves the seedy little room above a rather nice little restaurant in Montmartre. As the humidity rises, so do the tempers. The agents become suspicious of each other, a key player announces that he can't go through with it and storms out of the room. A second layer of agents, who have become regular diners at the restaurant below, 'take care' of the situation, for that is exactly why they have been dining on the finest steaks, much to the pleasure of Monsieur Le Patron.

Another of the agents poses a question, a question so obvious it is very nearly overlooked. "How do we get the Mercedes up to speeds that will definitely kill, on roads packed with Saturday night revellers leaving the city in cars and cabs?" An air of desperation hangs in the room only to be interrupted by the pulling of yet another wine cork. The answer was staring them right in the face, the table is littered with empty wine bottles and glasses containing varying degrees of wine. “That’s it….a purge on drinking and driving….strategically placed traffic cops operating road blocks that would hold up the approaches to the Alma Tunnel, keeping the main route relatively clear of civilian traffic”. One phone call and dozens of Gendarmes would unwittingly become a part of this deadly conspiracy. There was some evidence from a Parisian radio ham who picked up excessive police activity in the area of the Alma Tunnel long before Diana and Dodi's Mercedes bounced off the tunnel walls. Evidence that very conveniently was never repeated, and a radio ham who not surprisingly, disappeared.

"Not a clue must be left anywhere, not one solitary scrap of evidence.."

With more painstaking detail our players go over the entire operation again and again, each of them looking gaunt with tiredness. The colour of the Claret now mirrored in the whites of their eyes. Their attention now switches to the aftermath, "Not a clue must be left anywhere, not one solitary scrap of evidence to suggest foul play will ever reach the column inches of even one local rag". Members of the public, those eye witnesses first on the scene must be kept to a minimum. "There will be 'plans' to deal with anyone who gives the slightest impression that they have seen anything that could lead to the truth". Nothing was to be left to chance. "No one will survive who casts the smallest element of doubt on any tiny part of this operation". Michael King's voice is the only voice to be heard, when 'the Guvnor' speaks you listen. "Street surveillance cameras, and traffic CCTV will suffer a major fault, or the tiniest shred of video evidence will find its way onto the world’s TV screens. The medical emergency services will be delayed, if they arrive on the scene too soon their medical skills could innocently undo months of planning. The hospital a few hundred yards from the Alma Tunnel will be put out of action, 30 to 40 minutes should be all that is needed, a power cut will be arranged..." Michael was brought to an abrupt halt... "But it's a hospital we're talking about, hospitals have back-up generators for just such an occurrence". "Shit, Shit, Shit" was heard to escape on angry breath through the Guvnors gritted teeth. "Get someone on it, immediately, I want a fool proof answer within the hour. That hospital will be out of action without a single person suspecting anything". (That hospital was out of action on the fateful night in question). The white Fiat Uno is the next subject on the agenda. "After it's done its job, that car will just disappear straight back in to the lock-up, resprayed and driven south within the shortest possible time. It will never be seen again, that’s clear right, NEVER". (The car's broken rear light and its broken glass was to cause a few sweaty moments during days to come).

"We are to put an end to this stupid woman...Let me assure you, she WILL NOT BE MISSED"

The temperature in the room is rising and it's nothing to do with the heat of a humid Paris night in mid-August. This tiny little room has seen some dramas over the past week, and those dramas were nowhere near coming to an end. Tempers were at boiling point. With little over a week to go until DD-Day, the tension is rising. For a room so remarkably hot and sticky, there are a surprising number of cold feet. Two of the agents, almost working like a double act raise a question, one that had been preying on their consciences since they were first subjected to the details of their new mission. Nervously that question is revealed to the room; "Is it essential that Diana dies, if Dodi has been dispatched then surely the threat has been removed, Diana has..." Before he could finish, Michael spoke, loudly and without a second's hesitation. "London wants her dead...so, DEAD she will be. We are to put an end to this stupid woman...Let me assure you, she WILL NOT BE MISSED. The Monarchy stands a much better chance without her". The debate had gone on for less than a minute, but that's far too long for Michael. It took a full glass of Claret meeting an untimely end against the marble wall to put a dramatic end to the discussion... "THERE IS NO DISCUSSION".

During the following days the scenes in this hot sticky room see more tension, more dissent, and more high drama. Mostly dismissed by the Guvnor, even when he's wrong, he's right. No one volunteers an argument, well, not for long anyway.

It's now the evening of Saturday 30th August 1997..

It's now the evening of Saturday 30th August 1997. The film now shows the events of that evening, not quite in real time. Events that many of us have seen on TV news footage, plus events which were not conducted in public, events which lead to the death of Diana Princess of Wales.

The scene is the all too familiar interior of The Ritz Hotel in Paris. Secretly the plans for Princess Diana's death are being run through. There are still a few details to iron out, the crucial last pieces of the jigsaw to drop into place. The events of the final few hours will build an incredible tension, both on and off screen. There are still many obstacles to overcome, to watch those obstacles fall, in almost real time will make the heart beat faster.

"How do we make sure that Diana and Dodi take 'the right car'? They could so easily opt for the other Mercedes, or even the Range Rover".
"Even if they choose 'the right car', they could so easily insist on their usual driver. This would spell disaster, a Mercedes trained, or security trained driver may well be able to handle the 'tampered with' car". These last minute details must remain just that 'last minute', for fear of raising the slightest suspicion. One misplaced comment, one unsubtle action will jeopardise the entire operation.

Mixing with the Saturday evening clientele at the Paris Ritz should be an enjoyable pass time. For Michael King, even though he was sipping a glass of the finest vintage Cristal Champagne it was stressful beyond belief. He suddenly panics. 'I really hope they didn't put the CCTV inside, and outside the Ritz out of action', is the thought running through his head. 'We will certainly need that post mortem'.

The double D-Day moment was drawing ever near, Michael is so intent on running through everything in his head that he didn't realise he was sipping from an empty Champagne glass. 'Has Henri Paul been chosen to drive by Diana and Dodi? Have his drinks been spiked enough, or too much? We can always switch blood phials after the event if they've over done it. Are the paparazzi in place and ready to go? Has the leader got the intense blinding flashlight to aim at Henri Paul's eyes in case of a failure in the remote system? (This was actioned on the night, several eye witnesses saw it). Is Jean Charles in place in the Fiat Uno? Is he as good with those remote controls as they say he is? Will the hospital nearest the Alma Tunnel be successfully put out of action? Is everything in place to deal with eye witnesses? Will Diana and Dodi die?

"Too late now, it's do or Di"..

Michael, now talking to absolutely no one at the darkened end of the bar, speaks quietly to himself, "too late now, it's do or Di". Smiling at his own pun, he disappears into the night.
As the early hours of Sunday August 31st 1997 unfold, this factual/fictional account of events builds to its climax. The extraordinary final moments of Diana and Dodi appear on screen in real time, the familiar scenes all looked at from a very different perspective.

Michael has no need to worry. The plan is perfectly executed, we watch as the detail falls into place. The remote control is executed perfectly by Jean Charles. The Mercedes, totally out of the control of Henri Paul, its driver smashes into the pillars of the Alma Tunnel at unbelievable speed. But Diana is still alive, she is worked on at the scene, then rushed to hospital some distance away, as the nearby Emergency Room was strangely out of action. Michael has to endure a couple of hours of nail biting before the world's media made the announcement he had been waiting for: "PRINCESS DIANA IS DEAD..."

As reported by much of the media, a lone video cameraman films the aftermath. In the chaos which ensued, he isn't questioned. He was never found.

The scene changes to a darkened room in London, a man sits replaying a videotape, over and over again. We see the action of the crashing Mercedes in slow motion on the TV screen. Michael enters the room, with a wry smile he speaks, "James, how could you". The video is now frozen on the screen, the camera moves in on the crashed Mercedes. At this point we slowly dissolve through to the enormous sea of flowers outside Kensington Palace, as the camera tracks over the flowers we hear Michael, the Guvnor's echoing voice: "No one will miss her".

Through the sea of flowers we almost match dissolve to a field of sunflowers in the South of France, as the camera moves through them it finds the dead body of Jean Charles Boisseau.

Super Title: IS THIS THE END?