Chapter 10: Counter Move

The Doctor said 'Run' and Amy ran. They arrived at the top of the main hall's staircase and legged it down the stairs, tearing past a civil servant in black clutching a long map tube. The Doctor stopped, froze as though a thought were being dropped into his head, and then sprang back up.

'Cornelis,' he said, taking the man's shoulders. 'Were you listening at the door?'

Cornelis's face told him everything. He looked pale and shaken.

'You're coming with us,' said the Doctor.

He led the Dutchman down the stairs and across the hall to the exit with a firm hand on his arm. Amy followed, not liking what she saw. She was still rattled by what the Doctor had said in the ballroom and his manner now with Cornelis was like that of an arresting officer.

As soon as they stepped outside, they were hit by the summer heat and the noise of the crowd on Dam Square. 'This way,' said the Doctor, leading them along the front of the town hall building to avoid the worst of the crowds.

'No, Doctor! Stop!'

'There isn't time, Amy!'

'I need to know whose side you're on!'

The Doctor stopped and looked back at her. He took a breath, then nodded for them to step into an alcove. Along the front of the façade was a series of pillars and arches, mostly for decoration, but a few had a door in the alcove wall. They gathered in one of them.

'You don't know whose side I'm on?' said the Doctor.

'Right now, no!' said Amy. 'I mean, sometimes you go flying in like Superman, but sometimes you're all We-Must-Not-Interfere-With-The-Timeline! Which one are you now?'

'That depends on Cornelis.'

Cornelis started at the sound of his name. The Doctor and Amy were both looking at him and he held the heavy leather map tube as though trying to ward them off.

'I'm just a civil servant,' he said. 'I don't understand any of this.'

'You understand that the dijkgraaf plans to destroy your country?' said the Doctor.

Cornelis nodded reluctantly.

'Then the only question is, Cornelis: Are you going to help me stop him?'

Amy looked at the Doctor, eyes shining with gratitude. The Doctor looked at Cornelis, waiting for his answer. Cornelis swallowed.

'What do you want me to do?' he said.

'Well, get rid of that map tube for a start,' said the Doctor. 'It's beginning to annoy me. And start thinking. There must be some way to convince your Town Hall chums that the dijkgraaf is Bad News in Big Letters.'

Cornelis nodded and went to wedge the map tube behind one of the stone pillars. He fussed over it, trying not to get dirt on his hands.

'Do you think he can handle it, Doctor?' said Amy in a low voice.

'Not without your help.'

The Doctor gave her a meaningful look. Amy took it in and nodded.

'What about you?' she said.

'Get to my TARDIS before the Master does.'

'At least he doesn't know where it is.'

'One scan for alien tech and he will.'

'Oh, yeah.'

'Difficult to hide a time machine in the 17th century, Amy. And a sonic screwdriver too, come to think of it.' The Doctor patted his jacket over the breast pocket. 'I'd better get moving.'

'Doctor! Would this count as alien tech?' Amy held out her mobile phone.

The Doctor's face broke into a beaming smile. He put the phone in his trouser pocket and looked at her with glee. 'Amelia Pond!' he said. 'You might just have uncovered the Master's fatal error!'

'And what's that?'

'He thinks you're stupid!'

And with that, the Doctor dashed off. Amy watched him dodge around people to the end of the building and disappear around the corner. She turned to see that Cornelis had also been watching the Doctor.

'Pardon me, Miss Amy,' he said. 'But he does seem to rather enjoy this.'

'You get used to it.'

Amy stood in the shade of the alcove and looked at the mass of people who thronged the square—beggars and sailors and merchants and traders. The Doctor had dumped her in the middle of it, as usual, but when she looked at the civil servant beside her, she realised that he felt more lost than she did.

'All right, Cornelis,' she said. 'Where do we start?'

'I was rather hoping you could advise me?'

'Oka-a-ay.' Amy frowned. 'Who's the big boss? The man in charge of this place?'

'Well, technically, as a democratically elected council, there's no…' Amy gave Cornelis the evil eye. '…the Lord Mayor,' said Cornelis immediately.

'And is the Lord Mayor friends with the Master?'

'With who? Oh!' said Cornelis, remembering. A thought struck him. 'No, he's not. In fact, earlier today, the mayor insisted on a meeting with the dijkgraaf and he seemed annoyed.'

'There you go, Cornelis! It's not so hard, is it?'

'What is?'

'Come on!'

Amy made her way along the town hall building, heading back to the main entrance. Cornelis followed, wringing his hands.

'Where are we going?' he said.

'To have a chat with the mayor, of course.'

'But we haven't got an appointment.'

'Cornelis, the first thing you need to understand is that—Get back!'

Amy had just reached the entrance with a view into the main hall—and the first person she saw was the Master walking quickly across the floor. She jumped back, pushing Cornelis out of sight. He stumbled and they grabbed each other to stop him falling. Amy held him until she was sure he was stable and then became aware that two militia guards were staring at them.

'Sorry about that,' she said. 'I caught sight of my father and I didn't want him to see us together. Come along, dearest!'

Amy took Cornelis by the hand and led him into the building. He wore the expression of a man hit over the head with a large board. One guard watched them go all the way in, his gaze going from the lovely, long-haired girl to the thin-faced, thin-haired civil servant. Finally, he turned back to his fellow guard.

'Wish I had money,' he sighed.

Amy and Cornelis crossed the main hall and hurried up the staircase without a word. They both had the same thought—to get out of sight before the Master came back out of that side door. Only when they reached the gallery overlooking the main hall did Amy speak.

'So where was he going in such a hurry?'

'That door leads to the guard's quarters,' said Cornelis. 'Maybe he's having the Doctor arrested by the militia!'

'Oh, whoopee.'

Amy made a decision. 'Come on,' she said, hurrying down a corridor.

'But the mayor is that way!' said Cornelis as he struggled to keep up.

'I want to check the dijkgraaf's office.'

'But he always keeps it locked.'

They arrived at the door and Amy tried the handle. The door opened.

'That's what happens when you're in a rush,' said Amy, moving to go in.

'What are you doing?'

'Cornelis, our conversation with the mayor will go a lot smoother if we have some proof that the Master is up to no good.'

'What kind of proof?'

Amy was losing patience. She wasn't like this with the Doctor, was she? 'Look, Cornelis, if you really want to help, go back to the top of the stairs and warn me if the Master starts to head back.'

'Yes. Yes, that would be sensible.'

'Go on now!'

Cornelis nodded and hurried off. Amy sighed with relief and closed the door. She looked across at the tall ornate wooden cupboard. The proof she had in mind was in there and she thought it would be pretty convincing. Even so, when she went across to try the door, a part of her hoped it would be locked. She turned the cupboard handle and pulled.

It was open.

Amy felt a wave of nausea. She knew she would have to open the ice box, but to carry one of those things in her bare hands—she couldn't do it. She looked around the office and her eye fell on the fireplace. Holland's winter fuel in those days was dried squares of turf and Amy saw a pair of metal tongs and a tin pan and brush for sweeping up the ash.

'That'll do.'

Amy collected the pan and the tongs and entered the Master's TARDIS. The greenish light gave her the creeps, but she walked with a determined stride straight to the rows of plastic crates and the ice box. The crates looked weird and the objects they contained looked futuristic—she really ought to have a closer look.

'Get on with it, Pond,' said Amy to herself, squaring up before the ice box and taking a deep breath. 'Just get it over with!'

Amy took off the lid.