He was neither a tall man nor a strong man but he was an intelligent man. Not for him the petty bleatings of democracy, he knew power and how to wield it. It was like a twinkling light that burned those unworthy to appreciate its strength.

To call him a mere madman was not to know him, rather it was a convenient label to pigeonhole something that they couldn't understand. They didn't want to admit their own failings and their egos would refuse to acknowledge their inability to see a perfectly rational viewpoint as he did.

People were herd creatures, pack animals only as intelligent as their stupidest member. They would fight among themselves for scraps of land and scraps of food rather than share their homes and their pots. In all this chaos he saw a way beyond the animal instincts to a better level of existence, one that he would give them in return for their total obedience. They needed a strong hand to lead them, but a strong hand tempered with reason and understanding. He intended that had to be his, he doubted that anyone else was strong enough for the task.

These thoughts had begun to trouble him of late, once again the Doctor had somehow managed to meddle in his affairs and instead of Azal gifting him with his powers to guide humanity the Daemon had been destroyed by his own arrogance. The Doctor had used his blonde friend, the delightful Jo Grant, to sacrifice her own life for his own and in doing so Azal's powers had destroyed the church under which he had laboured for so long.

This cell was not so bad, he'd been in much worse in his time and the guards were not great conversationalists, but it occurred to him that perhaps it's the position that makes them so dull. He was looking forward to a visit from the Doctor, no doubt to plead for access to his Type 52 TARDIS. One day there would be a final reckoning between the two of them. He would see the Doctor humiliated in front of those creatures he called friends and then he'd have a really good day.

The cell door rattled briefly as it was unlocked then the door opened and a guard walked in. "Visitor for you sir."

The guards always called him sir. Maybe they thought by this little act of friendship they hoped to dull his wits and blunt his intelligence? They may institutionalise the Doctor but he would never be contained, would never be consumed by rituals of regimen. "Ah Doctor, so nice of you to see me..." It wasn't the Doctor...it was a human female. "I'm sorry my dear. Had I known of your arrival I would have had the servants tidy the place up. Can I offer you a cup of tea perhaps? I do find that I cannot get to midday without at least one cup."

"I'm Muriel Anderson. I'm your psychiatric councillor." Muriel presented her MOD warrant card.

"Ah, and what makes me deserving of your visit? Tell me Major; don't you wear your uniform while on duty? I would imagine your superiors would frown upon that."

Muriel looked at her patient closely, he was not unattractive for a man of his years, even if he did claim to be over five hundred tears old. Obviously it was part of his condition, the bizarre fantasy he had surrounded himself with to cope with his social discomfiture. "I have discretionary permission to wear what I feel will be most relaxing for my patients."

He looked at the human, she was obviously attempting to use her feminine wiles to put him at his ease and encourage him to open up to her. He could read her species like a book. "My dear Major, may I call you Muriel?"

She nodded. It was good to form a relationship of trust early on, by letting him feel at ease she could use that trust to achieve her agenda.

"Well Muriel, where to start?" He stroked his beard, feeling the bristles tugging on the skin of his chin. "As I'm sure you've been told a lot about me already by the Doctor and Lethbridge-Stewart, can you believe some of the things they have written about me? Quite extraordinary, don't you think?"

"Yes, well that's what the MOD want clearing up. They need a few questions answering, so here I am."

He stood up and walked over to his table where a tray of tea bags, sugar and a pot of hot water stood waiting. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to join me in a cup my dear?"

Muriel shook her head. She was impatient to find out what she wanted to know. They had told her that he was dangerous and manipulative and not to stay in here for a second longer that she had to.

He sipped his tea. "Well they say you can judge the level of sophistication of a society by the quality of their tea. Judging my this I'd say there was room for a few improvements yet." He sat back down and looked at the youngish woman straight in the eyes. "I suppose they warned you about me? Told you that I was dangerous? Typical don't you think? They have me locked away in a cell in a maximum-security establishment and they still think that I'm dangerous. Well I'm flattered Muriel, I really am. The moment I did anything they disapproved of I'd have a bullet in my head within a second. Now that's true terror isn't it?"

Muriel nodded. "Do you deserve anything less?"

"Well a little visit from an old friend once or twice wouldn't go amiss. Perhaps the Brigadier could hold his Christmas parties in here and we can all sing carols together." He smiled to himself. "A little company is good for the soul, don't think I'm not grateful for our brief time together Muriel."

This was it; she was making a connection. Keep him talking; this one likes the sound of his own voice. "You keep talking about the Doctor, you speak as if he was your best friend and yet you hate him so much."

"Hate?" He paused for a second. "Do you know what hate is? Truly? Certainly the Doctor and I have crossed paths several times, and he has a habit of upsetting my carefully prepared plans, but have you stopped to ask yourself why he goes out of his way to involve himself in my affairs? Jealousy and envy Muriel. He cannot help himself; it's the pride in his ego. He has to get involved. Now I'm no angel Muriel, I'm a realist as I'm sure you must be, otherwise you couldn't be in this room, doing your job so well. Let me tell you how much I've noticed your attention to detail, it's the little things that are important. Its easy to care about the big things, they can take care of themselves, but it's the tiny details that need guiding into something that can benefit everyone." He paused for another sip of tea.

She was writing down everything he was saying, she was listening to him. He had her right where he wanted her. A few key phrases, the right combination of words would slip into her unconscious mind and his control over her would be guaranteed. "Tell me my dear, have you ever wondered why I haven't simply resorted to conventional terrorist attacks? It would be so easy to simply plant a bomb in Parliament or the White House and bring down the old order. I do not believe that any society that is based on violence can last. I simply want to build a better future based on unity and shared strength. The whole of society is much greater than the sum of its parts."

"I see." Muriel wondered if the MOD had sent her to see the right prisoner. This was not the delusional monster she had been led to believe. He wasn't some sort of criminal psychopath with alienation fantasies; he was a kind and gentle man. A man of peace, sitting in this cell he could almost be the next Mahatma Ghandi. She looked again into his steely blue eyes and saw that indeed her was a man who was committed to peace not violence.

"Are you okay, Muriel?" he asked his guest. "Perhaps you could do with a cup of tea now? You seem so flushed. Do you want me to call the guard? Perhaps we should continue at another time?"

Muriel stood up. "Guard, come quickly."

The guard unlocked the door and hurried inside, only to be struck from behind by the psychologist wielding a teapot.

"Hurry," Muriel whispered. "I have to get you out of here, you shouldn't be in here."

He stood up and followed the woman outside. "Thank you my dear, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be set free." They moved quickly through the tight corridors and into a gravel floored courtyard.

"Halt right there!" The guard commander shouted and five armed guards moved into position to block the exit.

"I'm sorry," Muriel begged for his forgiveness. "I didn't know they had guards out here."

"That's perfectly all right my dear. It seems that my stay here shall be longer than I expected. I must send Trenchard a congratulatory note, he does his job very efficiently."

Trenchard looked at the prisoner on his monitor screen. "How many is that so far this month?"

"She's the fourth, she almost succeeded too."

"Yes." Trenchard sat down in his chair. "I've half a mind to question him myself, then we'll get some answers." He was made of much sterner stuff than that desk bound slip of a girl. He had seen proper action; Malaysia had made him tough inside, where it counted. He'd show the prisoner who was in charge here.

He lay back on his bed. Today had been the closest yet, he had freedom within his sight but it had been snatched away from him once again. There was a knock on his door and a guard came in and handed him a note. "Thank you." He dismissed the guard. He glanced at the note before scrunching it up and throwing it over into the furthest corner of his cell. "He always turns up when he's least wanted." The Master looked up at the cracked ceiling of his cell and closed his eyes. Let him come, let him beg for possession of his TARDIS. At least he'd be in control of that conversation and he would take some measure of delight in seeing his face when he told him his terms. One day he would regain his freedom, he'd look up and see open skies, he'd see the Doctor humiliated in front of those creatures he called friends and then he'd have a good day, a really good day.