Time: Present Day
Location: Paris, France

Carter found himself in the back of a taxi in Paris. It was late at night. The plane had been delayed due to some sort of industrial dispute at Rome airport. Monique was beside him. Carter felt how relieved she was to be finally back in Paris. It had been a long day and she was exhausted. I must look like shit she thought to herself and Carter. Now she was looking in a vanity mirror she had taken from her bag and was redoing her lipstick. She had her phone on her lap opened in camera mode looking at the picture from Le Balajo of Amelia, Collette and the man they called Andre. Carter couldn't take his eyes off it either.

She glanced outside and said to the taxi driver,  "Paris is beautiful at night, sometimes I'm so glad to be home. I miss it terribly. Even after all these years. Isn't that the Pont de l'Alma tunnel? Are we going to go through it? Can you show me the spot where Princess Di crashed?"

The taxi driver said nothing, until they reached the entrance to the tunnel. Then he said, "Here, about here was where . . , Shiiiit!"

Carter disappeared into the back seat and out the back of the car as the car was propelled forward and to the left. A black BMW passed on by through him, it had rammed hard into the back of them from behind, but instead of the driver applying the brakes like Monique's taxi driver tried to do, the BMW accelerated pushing the Taxi past the cement pillars, until they reached the 15th pillar then the BMW swerved violently right which sent the taxi attached at the front even more violently left straight into the 15th pillar. There was an almighty bang and the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass. A ripping sound as the BMW detached itself, broke suddenly and swerved to miss the turning wreckage that a short time earlier had been a Paris cab. Carter had been left behind and now found himself some 50 metres from the crash scene. He couldn't seem to keep up now, try as he might he couldn't get any closer.

He saw the black BMW slide to a halt. The driver's door swung open. A man in a dark suit emerged and started over to the wreck to check on the people in the taxi. Carter's immediate reaction was thinking that he must go to help his nanna, see if she's alright. When his thoughts were interrupted by his father's voice, it was echoey and indistinct. He was reading someone's mind, it was the BMW driver.

A stranger's voice said, "Fast or slow?"

His father had replied, "Slow, I want her to suffer like she made me suffer all these years."

Monique came to, crunched up on the floor in the back of the taxi. She could hear someone moaning in pain, the taxi driver she thought.

Then she heard him say,"Help, help me sir." She heard but couldn't see the driver's door open.

There was the sound of struggling as whoever it was was freeing the driver. He had stopped moaning so he must be out of the car. Good, she thought, they'll get me out next.  She felt down and realised for the first time she was badly injured. Her legs were wet, I'm bleeding, she thought. She touched the wetness and then she touched the wet carpet on the floor. It wasn't blood after all. That smell, relieved she thought,  Thank God. . . it's not my blood . . . it's petrol.

Monique looked up and saw a face appear in the rear window, the window was fogged. She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was was gesturing that she do something, the door must be jammed. They wanted her to wind down the window. She struggled to lift herself off the floor, she groaned in pain but pushed through it, and finally reached the button in the door and sent the power window on its way down. It was a man, more than a man, it was a young priest, crazily she thought, good he can give me the last rites, then she caught herself, don't be so silly, she thought, I don't think I'm that injured.

Then the  priest said, "Peter sends his regards." He took out a Zippo lighter, held it up so she could see his face. He looked familiar, then she saw the ring, wrapped around the lighter, My God! she thought, It's the priest, He smiled, threw the lighter under the car, turned and started running towards a black car behind him. Monique picked up her phone that had landed beside her on the floor. She tried to ring the 112 Parisian emergency number but realised it was too late as flames started to rise above the outside window. Her instincts kicked in though, and she put her phone up to the open window and took a photo of the priest before he got into the car. She summoned up all her courage and strength and sent the phone hurtling out the window. As Anton watched the car explode in his rear view mirror, something hit the rear of his car.

Shit I better move, he thought and sped off. His back wheel squashed Monique's phone flat and shattered the screen as the wheels spun and the black BMW took off in a cloud of blue smoke. Carter was still standing helpless in the middle of the left lane when a bus ploughed through him and came to a screeching halt behind the burning wreck.