Chapter 6: A Chance Discovery

In the dijkgraaf's office, Cornelis looked down at the small wooden chest in frustration. He had spotted a small knife for trimming candles on the desk and had used it to try and pry the lid open. Then he had tried a few small keys on his own key chain. The lock didn't budge. Cornelis picked it up, held it to his ear and gave it a gentle shake.

There was a knock at the door.

Cornelis jumped. Heart thumping, he put the chest on the floor, grabbed his map tube and began shaking its contents out onto the desk.

'Come in!' he said, trying to sound official.

The door opened and a man and a woman entered—clearly foreigners by the way they dressed. The man wore a reddish butterfly thing under his chin and the woman … well, she was probably a prostitute.

'Hello there!' said the man. 'So you're in charge of the city's water pumps, are you?'

'I beg your pardon?'

The woman interrupted. 'Water pumps? Doctor, I thought you said—'

'Windmills, Amy. Most of the windmills in the Netherlands are not 'mills' at all, but water pumps. The sails are connected to a giant … um…'

'…Archimedes screw,' said Cornelis.

'Yes, one of those,' said the man. 'And when the sails turn, the screw turns, drawing the water upwards. It's very clever.'

'You know something of windmill technology?' said Cornelis.

'Windmill Technology!' The man with the butterfly thing beamed like a child. 'What a delightful phrase!'

Cornelis shook his head like a cat bothered by a fly.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'But who are you?'

'I'm the Doctor,' said the man. 'And this is Amy.'

'Hello,' said Amy.

'And you are?'

'Cornelis Dekker, sir. Secretary to the Dijkgraaf of Amsterdam.'

'An honour to meet you, sir!' The Doctor grabbed the bemused Dutchman's hand and shook it with enthusiasm.

'Nice office for a secretary,' said Amy, looking around.

Cornelis suddenly realised that he was entertaining uninvited strangers in his master's private office. He went pale and pulled his hand back.

'It's not my office,' he said. 'It's the dijkgraaf's and he doesn't appreciate unscheduled visitors. Perhaps we could continue this conversation elsewhere?'

'Well, actually it's the dijkgraaf I want to see,' said the Doctor.

'The dijkgraaf doesn't 'see' people. Ever.'

'Oh, come on. What if I ask nicely?'

'He's in a meeting with the mayor!'

'So he does see people!'

'Yes, but…'

'Doctor,' said Amy, putting her hand on the Doctor's arm. 'I think we should do as he asks.'

The Doctor frowned at her tone and looked again at Cornelis. He was clearly the bureaucratic type—thin face, humourless mouth, someone who enforces petty rules. But he was also gripping the heavy map tube so hard his fingers were white. He was scared.

'All right, Cornelis,' said the Doctor quietly. 'Let's continue this chat somewhere else.'

Cornelis nodded stiffly, resisting the temptation to say thank you. He knew if he did, his gratitude would show and he wanted to remain aloof and official. But his hand shook as he replaced the cap on the map tube.

'This way, please,' said Cornelis hurriedly and he showed them out of the office. As he led the way through the corridors, Amy edged nearer the Doctor.

'Our friend there didn't lock the door,' she muttered.

'I imagine the dijkgraaf has the only key,' said the Doctor. 'I wonder what's on those maps.'

'I hear you.'

She wasn't the only one. Cornelis looked over his shoulder, his mouth tight with disapproval. The Doctor smiled.

'We were just commenting on the canals,' he said as the three of them made their way down some back stairs.

'Oh yes?' said Cornelis.

'Yes, Cornelis. The last time I was in Amsterdam, they stank to high heaven.'

'Ah, yes, the stink. Well, we resolved that issue three months ago.'

'How?'

Cornelis opened his mouth to launch into a proud explanation. Then he frowned.

'I don't know,' he said.

They arrived at an office with three desks, shelves stacked with paperwork and one small window. The floor was wooden and the chairs looked rickety.

'Your office?' said the Doctor.

'Yes!' said Cornelis, offended by the hint of pity in the Doctor's tone. 'My colleagues are not here, so you may use the chairs.'

'Actually,' said Amy, standing in the doorway, 'I want to use the bathroom.'

Cornelis was shocked.

'You want to take a bath? In the town hall?'

'No! I want to, you know … "powder my nose"?'

Cornelis looked blank. Amy looked anxiously at the Doctor.

'She wants to urinate,' said the Doctor.

Amy and Cornelis looked at the Doctor with identical expressions of horror.

'You do not say it like that!' said Amy. 'Tell him, Cornelis!'

And Amy disappeared. The two men stood in awkward silence. Eventually, Cornelis coughed.

'Perhaps, Doctor, you could explain your business here?' he said.

Retracing her steps up the stairs and through the corridors, Amy muttered to herself. 'Unbelievable. Unbelievable!' She glowered at every civil servant she passed except for the short one they'd met in the main hall—he saw her coming and ducked into an office. Finally, she arrived at the dark panelled door with a black iron handle. She knocked, just in case. No answer. She took a deep breath and went in.

The office was just as they had left it—and the rolled up maps were still on the desk. Amy carefully closed the door and went over to look at them. They were hand-drawn using India ink, detailed and beautiful. It showed land divided into thin rectangles and along one side a dyke ran next to a river. Little windmills were drawn along the dyke and there was a village with the name 'Schermerhoorn' next to it in a flowing italic script.

Amy unrolled a smaller, thicker sheet of paper. It was a sketched copy of the India ink map with only circles for the windmills. Some of those circles were crossed out. There was also an arrow pointing at a bend in the dyke with the letters 'Z.P.' next to it. Were they initials of someone's name?

Amy looked around the rest of the office. Sunlight entered through one large window and bounced off a white tiled floor with little black squares. Apart from the desk there was a small fireplace, a set of shelves loaded with books and a tall cupboard with carved wooden doors. She went over to the tall cupboard and looked inside. A black coat and a wide-brimmed hat hung on pegs screwed into the side panel, but aside from that it was empty. Amy looked back and saw something she'd missed.

Under the desk was a small wooden chest. Amy went across, lifted it on the desktop and tried to open it. It was locked. She looked under the maps and on the nearby shelf for a key, but there wasn't one. She paused a moment and then took out a hairpin.

'It works in the movies,' she muttered.

Suddenly, she froze. Two men were walking in the corridor outside—she could hear their voices. She stayed absolutely still, praying for them to pass.

The door opened.

Amy stifled a gasp, her heart racing. The door was only open a crack—one of the men had been coming in and had been stopped by the other. She heard a rough voice.

'Oh, and Dirk. This conversation never happened.'

Amy had seconds before someone walked in. She ran on tiptoe to the tall cupboard and stepped in, carefully closing the door. It was dark inside and she felt the coat behind her. If she accidentally knocked the hat off its peg she would be given away. Gingerly, she reached for the back wall of the cupboard, intending to move along it. Her hand reached and reached, expecting to feel a wooden surface at any moment, but there was only air and Amy lost her balance and tumbled sideways onto the floor.

She landed on a metal walkway with a dull clang; through the heavy grill she could see tubes and wires. She sat up and looked back. Had she just fallen through the back of the cupboard? It looked like it—she saw the inside of the double doors, the wooden sides and the coat and hat on their peg. But it was an entryway to a much bigger space—a space both strange and yet familiar. Amy stood and slowly turned.

Black walls curved upwards, marked with hexagons that glowed a faint green, giving the feeling of an underwater cave. Coral-like pillars twisted upwards to support the walls. Amy walked slowly along the sloping metal walkway that led to a central console. The console was octagonal and crammed with strange levers, buttons, panels and symbols, all glowing a faint green against the black. From the centre of the console rose a luminous column that reached the ceiling. Amy gazed up at it.

'Oh, my God,' she said. 'It's a TARDIS.'