It was surprisingly easy to track him down. Perhaps he thought nobody would ever look for him there. Or perhaps it was just another example of the man's supreme arrogance, sitting out on the open like that. The Doctor couldn't help but admire his adversary's fearlessness. The Master was many things, but a coward he was not.

The town square was bathed in early morning summer sunlight, the market stall owners in the square only just opening up and displaying their wares. The single café was open, but there was only one person sitting at the few little tables outside; the Master. He was wearing his usual dark suit, despite the warmth in the air, though he was at least sporting a pair of sunglasses. He had a cup of coffee and plate of croissants, and was reading the morning edition of 'Le Figaro'. Very urbane. You could almost mistake him for a normal person. The Doctor crossed the street quietly and approached the table. The Master wasn't aware of him until he spoke.

"Good morning."

The Master didn't exactly jump, but he visibly tensed. "Why Doctor, what a pleasant surprise. Fancy meeting you here."

"Indeed. Don't fret, old chap - I'm here under a flag of truce."

"You? Truce?" The Master smiled politely and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were cold and hard. "And what about the Brigadier and his merry men? Are they under a flag of truce as well?"

"They're not here."

"Really."

"Really. In fact, they don't even know I'm here." The Doctor indicated to a free seat. "May I?"

"Do. So you're not here to capture me?"

"Absolutely not. How's the pastry here?"

"Not bad. The coffee is excellent though." The Master snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared from the café. "My... guest, requires service."

The Doctor smiled at the waiter. "Just a coffee, please." The waiter nodded and smiled and went away. The Doctor turned back to the Master. "France, eh? Well, I don't blame you at this time of year. It's really rather splendid, isn't it?"

The Master smiled tightly. "You know me better than that, Doctor. I'm not here for a holiday."

"Ah. You're embarking on some Machiavellian enterprise again, then."

"How well you know me. Is that why you're here?"

"Not exactly." The Doctor paused as the waiter came back with his coffee. The Doctor accepted it graciously and waited until the man went away again before resuming. "As you know, UNIT try to keep an eye out for you..."

The Master chuckled ironically. "And doing a very good job too, evidently!"

"...And as such, collect quite a lot of information - sightings, rumours, that kind of thing. From all over the world. Including France." He reached into his jacket and produced a newspaper cutting. He laid it out in front of the Master and tapped at the photograph on it. "That is you, isn't it?"

The Master studied the clipping. "It is," he replied evenly.

"Yes, I thought so. That's why I took it before the Brigadier saw it."

"Naughty," the Master admonished. "Aren't you supposed to be on their side?"

"Oh, I am. But this piece of news interested me."

The Master picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Did it?"

"Yes. It says here you saved a boy from drowning."

"Yes. I did."

The Doctor stared at the Master levelly. "I'm intrigued."

"Really."

"Yes, really. A selfless act of bravery and kindness... That's not normally your style."

"Your sarcasm overwhelms me."

"I'm not being sarcastic."

The Master set his cup down and leaned forward. "What is this, Doctor? Are you trying to find out if I've turned over a new leaf? Reformed?" He tossed his head back and laughed. "Oh dear, you really don't know me at all!"

The Doctor rubbed his jaw. "I like to think I know you pretty well. At least I think I know the 'old' you pretty well. This is something you might have done in the past."

"In the past, yes," the Master replied heavily. "But this is me, now."

"Really."

"Yes, really!" The Master's eyes narrowed and his lips curved into a twisted smile. "Very well then - if you want the real explanation for my actions, I shall tell you. This boy, I saved, will actually become quite an important figure in Earth's history. A man after my own hearts, so to speak. A twisted, power-hungry tyrant who shall bring death and misery upon millions. That's why I saved him."

"How do you know this?"

The Master shrugged. "From my TARDIS archives."

"Proof?"

The Master smiled. "You'll just have to take my word for it."

The Doctor smiled back. "Hardly. I think we both know why you plunged into that river to save that boy - don't we?"

"I know why I did it. I would not dare speculate on your theory." He shifted his chair back and made to stand. "And nor do I wish to hear it any longer. Goodbye, Doctor. I was nice chatting to you. We must do it again some time."

"Yes, we must. Life is a better topic for conversation than death, don't you think - especially on a day like this."

The Master laughed. "Life, ha! You talk of life while existing in a state of exile... really, Doctor, you are too much!"

"Aren't I just."

"I take it your truce extends to my departure? And no following, please; I'm sure the good people of this town would not welcome my levelling it."

"Cross my hearts."

"Good." The Master beckoned the Waiter again. "My friend will pay. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Au revoir, surely."

He smiled slightly. "As you wish." He turned to go, then paused, and glanced at the Doctor.

"You think you know me, Doctor...but you don't. You really don't."

Then he turned and quickly left.

The Doctor watched him go with a sad shake of his head.

"Oh, but I do, old friend. That's the trouble - I really think I do..."