“That’s crap, and you know it. Both those companies are ripe. This deal is as good as sewn up.”

Amis looked up at him, a fleck of yellow cream on his chin. “You’ve got that right, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m taking it over.” Amis spooned in another mouthful, crunching the caramelized sugar between his teeth.

Max took a deep breath. “We’ll see what the Lawtons have to say about that. They’re…”

“Too late, sunshine. They’re sorted. I got the green light from them this morning.”

Max saw months of work wiped out. Even worse, he saw his bonus disappearing into Amis’s bank account as his unpaid bills piled up and the bank moved in to tighten the noose around his neck. “You can’t do that. It’s bloody daylight robbery. It’s stealing.”

“Where have you been living? It’s business, that’s what it is. Business. Nothing personal, no hard feelings. And I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ve had a tip about a little engineering firm, but I won’t have time for that now. You can take it over.”

A memory came back to Max from many years ago, when his uncle Henry was giving him a lecture about life: Better to die on your feet than live on your knees. Max came to a decision. “I can take it over, can I? I can work it up, and then, when it’s all set, I can get screwed again. Is that what you’re saying?” Max leaned across the table. “Well, you can stuff your little engineering firm, and you can stuff your job. I’m not going to work for a thieving prick like you.”

Amis felt a glow of satisfaction as Max pushed back his chair. Lunch had gone according to plan; in fact, it couldn’t have gone better. He’d received a detailed, up-to-date brief on the deal, and, since Max had resigned, there wouldn’t be any severance to pay. Perfect. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Your decision. Make sure your desk is cleared out by this evening, OK?”