He awoke knowing instantly that something was very wrong. This was not the place where he had fallen asleep the night before.
Bright sunshine flooded in through the window to his left. The air in the room was clean and fresh, with a faint tang of ozone.
The furnishings were basic while still being comfortable. The bed underneath his back was soft. There was an armchair nearby, a desk and chair against one wall and a door leading into what he could see was a small but efficient bathroom.
All this he took in without moving from his waking position, just moving his eyes. Slowly, he flexed his joints and muscles. Everything seemed to be in working order. He swung his legs off the bed and stood.
A brief wave of nausea told him he had been drugged. He sniffed experimentally. There was a faint trace of a foreign substance in his nasal passages. Some form of knock out gas. That explained his new location. He had gone to sleep, been gassed to keep him insensate, then moved here. Wherever here was.
That was the next task. Discovery. Moving out of the bedroom, he explored the rest of his immediate location.
There was a living room with comfortable chairs, an entertainment screen (currently switched off), a bookcase and what appeared to be a telephone. Nearby was a well appointed kitchen, the cupboards stocked with basic foods. That was the extent of the living quarters.
Outside the front door was a short street. The houses, like the one he had emerged from (which had a number five on the door), were neat, tidy and uniformly set out. They had small, freshly cut lawns with flower borders.
The street led into a village square, other streets leading off. All were the same as the street he had left. One street seemed different, however, leading towards what looked like a park area.
During his investigations he had not seen another living soul. It was as if he were in a ghost town, though a very clean and neat one.
Choosing the different option, he walked down the street that led to the park. It turned into a large garden area, with an ornate fountain at its centre. Once more, everything was tidy, as if the gardeners had left down one street as he entered via another.
Overlooking the gardens was a large mansion with a domed upper floor. As the largest and most ornate building he had seen so far, he headed for it. It was time he got some answers.
Marching up to the front door, he knocked loudly. He didn't have to wait long, as the door swung open, to reveal a man half his height, smartly dressed in a butlers uniform.
"Who is in charge around here?" he demanded of the diminutive man.
The butler merely gestured for him to enter. He stalked into the hallway.
The interior was as opulent as the exterior. He was impressed, despite himself.
He turned to confront the butler once more, to find that he had managed to slip past him somehow. The smaller man was holding a door open, further down the hall.
Marching through the door with purpose, he discovered on the other side a rather sterile room. It was circular, with a sunken floor in the centre. Suspended from the ceiling was what appeared to be a large ball.
The ball turned and revealed itself to be a chair. In it sat a tall, grey haired man. He was dressed in a blazer and flannels. Upon the lapel of the blazer was a badge.
"Where am I and why am I here?" he demanded of the man in the chair.
The man stood and smiled. It was a smile you might find on the face of a wolf as it was about to rip your throat out.
"You are in the village. As to why you are here, we want information from you."
"Who are you?"
"I am Number Two. And you are Number Five."
He smiled his own wolfish smile, staring into his adversaries eyes. "I am not a number! I am the Master and you will obey me!"
Number Two actually laughed at that, which galled the Master. He looked deeper into the mans eyes. And found resistance.
"I have been trained to resist hypnotism. I was also warned you would try it on me. You are quite predictable, old chap."
The Master bristled. "What makes you think I won't just walk away from here? I have seen no guards. In fact, there seems to be nobody here at all but the two of us and your butler."
Number Two smiled. "We have excellent security arrangements. If you wish to try them out, please, be my guest."
Fury darkening his face, The Master turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Number Two chuckled. This new boy was going to be a refreshing challenge.
***
The Master walked briskly down the similar streets of the village. There were a few people about now. Those he passed smiled in welcome but he ignored them. He detested the company of humans at the best of times and these were far from the best of times.
Whoever ran this place must have their resources, he mused as he walked. They had snatched him from the prison cell where he had been since the Doctor and his friends had placed him there after the fiasco at Devils End. The Master himself had not been able to escape from the prison in a month, so it was no mean feat.
He found himself approaching a harbour. A flight of stone steps led down to the beach. Marching past the stone boat, he decided to leave by walking along the beach, until he rounded the edge of the harbour and made his way inland again.
The tide was out and the day was warm. The sand was soft beneath his feet. None of this concerned him, just a determination to leave this place. He fixed his eyes on his goal and nothing could turn him from it.
So it was that he didn't see the sea to his left begin to churn and bubble. From the depths of the harbour rose a sphere, six feet across and milky white.
It seemed to have a life of its own, rolling along the sea until it reached the sand. It was heading unerringly for the man walking along the beach.
Some Time Lord seventh sense alerted the Master to danger. He turned slowly, to see what appeared to be a large, pale bubble rolling towards him at speed.
Surrendering dignity for practicality, he began running. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he found that the sphere was gaining ground.
Putting on a spurt, he saw the curve of the bay before him. He was almost at his destination.
Another glance over his shoulder froze him to the spot. The sphere was upon him, bearing him to the ground.
Flat on his back in the sand, he pushed against the rubbery surface of the sphere. But it was stronger than it looked. It pressed down remorselessly, smothering him.
His world turned black as the air was forced from his lungs.
***
The Master awoke back in the same room as before. The bed was still soft under him and the sun was still shining outside.
The only thing that had really changed was his clothes. Gone was his usual black high collared jacket and trousers. In their place were what appeared to be the traditional garb of this place. A black polo necked sweater, grey flannels and black blazer, with that stupid badge on the lapel, emblazoned with a 5.
He gave a cat-like stretch as he swung his legs off the bed. Standing, he moved through into the living room.
The entertainment screen was switched on, showing an image of Number Two. The image smiled.
"Welcome back, Number Five. Did you enjoy your stroll?"
The Master ignored the numerical reference this time and cut straight to the chase.
"What is it you want from me?" he growled at the screen.
Number Two's smile broadened. "As I said in our interview, we want information. We could discuss this more comfortably in my office. Come to my residence in half an hour. As my lunch guest."
The Master nodded. He reached forward, to deactivate the screen, but the image was already fading to black.
***
The two men sat at opposite ends of a long dining table. The centre was filled with serving dishes, enough to feed an army. Yet one of them wasn't hungry.
"You should eat more," Number Two commented, around a large mouthful of chicken. "No wonder you're so thin."
The Master smiled faintly. "I prefer to consider myself lean. It pays to be fit in my business."
"And what is your business? Ah, yes, renegade Time Lord!"
The Master raised an eyebrow. These people were remarkably well informed.
"You seem to know a lot about me," he said, watching Number Two's face intently, waiting for any slip.
"The people that run this … establishment know a lot of things that certain powers would rather they didn't know. Have you ever heard of a man called Anthony Blunt?"
"No, should I have?"
Number Two grinned. "As a visitor to our world, you couldn't be expected to. But then, neither have most people. But one day he will be famous and for all the wrong reasons. More wine?"
The Master shook his head, declining. "Now, would you care to tell me why I am being kept here?"
Number Two waved a fork full of roast potato at him. "You really are a most impatient fellow. Well, if you must know, we want some information from you."
The Master scowled. "That I already know," he replied tersely. "What information?"
Fixing him with a hard stare, Number Two placed his utensils carefully beside his plate before replying.
"We want you to tell us the secrets of time travel!"
The Master barked a laugh. "You really expect me to reveal the secrets of my people to a bunch of insignificant humans? I know your species have a strange sense of humour, but that is a ridiculous idea!"
The face of Number Two darkened. "You are in no position to insult your captors!"
A smile spread of The Master's face. "If you know so much about Time Lords, which information I assume you've stolen from UNIT files, you will know how long we can live and that we have the power to regenerate. I could outlive you all, many times over."
Now Number Two matched his smile. "We also know you. You hate incarceration and will always look for a way out. Your encounter with Rover on the beach was just a demonstration. It could kill you next time, triggering a regeneration. How many lives have you left? How many failed escapes could you survive?"
The Master's smile turned icy. "Then you also know I'm good at escaping most forms of incarceration."
"Go ahead. We'll make your next regeneration, if you have one, as comfortable as possible."
The Master pushed his seat back, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, turned and left the dining room.
After a few seconds, a telephone rang. Number Two picked it up.
"Hello? No, I think he will give up his secrets. Of course he is stubborn. They all are at first. Yes. Yes, I know. We will break him, I promise."
Number Two hung up the phone. He hoped that if there were any spy cameras in the room they didn't notice the crossed fingers behind his back.
***
It was an unusual feeling, the Master mused, not knowing what to do. He had spent so much of his lives confident that he would achieve his goals and sure exactly of how to go about getting what he wanted, that doubt had rarely, if ever, entered his mind. However, this Number Two chap had sown some seeds that it was difficult to dislodge.
For want of a better plan, he had returned to the small house that seemed to be his within the village. Outside, the afternoon was drawing to a close and evening was creeping in. Switching on the lights, the Master ran an eye along the bookshelf. It was a mostly bland selection, but he noticed, almost hidden among the Shakespeare and Shelley, a slim volume. Pulling it free, he saw that it was a reprint of The Prince, by Machiavelli.
A smile tugged at the bearded corners of his mouth as a memory flitted across his mind. Young Machiavelli had been a fine pupil, he remembered.
The book in his hand and a smile still on his lips, he went through into the bedroom, lay down on the bed and began to read.
***
Some hours later, the paperback lay across the Master's chest, gently rising and falling in time with the Time Lords breathing.
The front door of house number five opened soundlessly and two shadowy figures crept in. They knew the owner was asleep and had been sent to take advantage of that fact.
They had been picked for this mission because they were good at what they did. They moved silently towards the bedroom, ready to carry out their orders.
As they entered, however, the Master sprang from the bed, fully awake and alert. The two men were surprised, to say the least. The first was still surprised when the Master's fist hit him squarely on the jaw and he dropped into the black pit of unconsciousness.
The second man turned to flee but his adversary was too quick for him. The Master caught him by the shoulder, spun him round and clamped a hand to the side of his neck.
The Master squeezed, his applied pressure making the man's eyes bulge. Looking towards the ceiling, The Master spoke.
"Number Two? I assume you can hear me, probably see me as well. I have your thug here in a Balian Death Grip. Just a little more pressure from my thumb will end his life. Set me free, or he dies!"
A voice filtered through from the living room. "I do not have the authority to let you go."
"Then who does? Number One? Get him, or I'll kill your man!" The Master squeezed a little harder, which brought a satisfying squeal from his victim.
"Number One is unavailable," stated Number Two flatly.
"Make him available," the Master suggested.
"I'll do what I can." There was a clicking sound and the connection was broken.
The Master smiled down at the man, enjoying his pain, just as the hypodermic needle was plunged into his leg and he fell to the floor.
***
When Number Two arrived, the man was rubbing his throat where the finger marks were still visible.
"What a fiasco!" Number Two raged, looking down at the inert forms of the Master and the other man.
"He was supposed to be sleeping!" the Master's victim protested. "We were supposed to sneak in, pump him full of knockout juice and take him to the underground complex. Easy job. But he wasn't asleep."
"I know that now, you fool. We didn't expect him to be that good at faking. But now he is unconscious, I suppose we had better finish the job. Your friend doesn't look up to it yet."
Together, Number Two and his henchman carried the Master outside, loading his sleeping form into the back of an open topped jeep-type vehicle. They turned and went back for the other man.
Before they reached the bedroom, they both heard the sound of an engine start up. Rushing outside, they were just in time to see the car disappear round a corner.
Number Two glared at his colleague. "You left the keys in?" The man just shrugged.
***
This car wasn't the fastest or most comfortable he had driven, but it seemed adequate for his purpose, which was escape. Let them send their bubble guards after him. This could outrun them.
Turning a corner, he saw an open street ahead of him, no houses. This must be the road out. He pushed the accelerator down hard.
At first he thought it was a light coming towards him in the gloom of dusk. Then he realised it was one of the bubbles, waiting in the road ahead.
He slowed the car, coasting to a stop fifty feet away from the guard. It didn't move. Slowly, the Master got out of the car. Still no movement.
He took a pace forward. The bubble rolled forward, then stopped. The Master smiled. This was what the Doctor would call a Mexican stand-off. He took another pace.
This time the bubble rolled further before stopping. It was daring him to continue. Well, two could play at that game.
The Master started walking. The bubble started rolling. Two objects in motion, set on a deadly collision course!
They were barely ten feet apart and moving towards each other faster when a noise split the twilight peace. A blue box began to materialise between the Master and the sphere.
The sphere charged forward, but bounced off the solidifying shape. With a solid thump, it materialised fully and one of the doors creaked open.
"Come on, man, quickly!" called the white haired figure who stood in the open doorway, opera cloak flapping in the gentle breeze.
The Master ran the last few feet, the now recovered Rover bounding towards him. He dived inside and the door was shut in the face of the sphere.
Uncertain how to proceed, the bubble rolled around the box, trying to find a way in. Its search was ended when the same unearthly noise began again and the box faded from view, taking Number Five with it.
***
The Master gathered his wits quickly while the Doctor fussed over the controls of his TARDIS.
"I never thought I would say this, but it's good to see you, Doctor."
The Doctor turned his head, looking sideways at his old friend/enemy. "No, I never thought you would say it either."
"How did you find me?" the Master inquired, making the question seem routine, while he was actually quite interested in hearing the answer.
The Doctor turned fully towards him, letting the TARDIS handle their flight. "Well, at first the Brigadier and I both thought you had managed to find a way out and had escaped to your TARDIS. It was Sergeant Benton that noticed the smell."
"Ah, the redoubtable Sergeant Benton. I really must congratulate him on his olfactory expertise one day. Please go on."
The Doctor frowned at the interruption, but continued. "I identified the gas used to knock you out. We assumed you had been kidnapped. The Brigadier had heard rumours about this special holding area for spies, agents and anybody who an organisation wanted kept out of the way. It was privately run and open to the highest bidder. But there wasn't anybody he could contact who knew where it was."
"So I assume you turned to them for help?"
"That's right. I sent a message to the Time Lords, asking them to release the tracking and drive controls to me, so I could find you and bring you back."
"For which I am eternally grateful. Now, if you could drop me off at Barnards Star, I have an appointment to keep."
The Doctor smiled. "No can do, old chap. The TARDIS is on a one way trip. The Time Lords don't want either of us wandering off just yet. We're returning directly to your cell."
The Master sighed in frustration. "Do they have any idea how irritating it is to be kept prisoner on this backward little planet?"
The Doctor looked sadly at his rival. "I doubt it. But I do."
***
Number Two was on the phone again. "Yes, I know I promised we would get you the secrets of time travel. How were we to know that one of his own would come for him? Even we can't guard against that! Yes, I understand. Another new guest. We'll be ready for him. And we won't lose him this time. I promise."
Hanging up, he called the butler into the room. "We have another guest arriving within the day. See that there is a house available for him. I think Number Six is free."
