Which made it 9:16 P.M. in Positano. There were no preliminaries. “I’ve just heard from my connection,” said Donatti. Durning didn’t like the way his heart was drumming against his chest. Imagine, At this stage of my life. “And?” “The news isn’t good.” Durning sat there. He stayed exactly where he was, staring across the big walnut desk in his study. He felt a pulse going in his temple. His hand pressed the receiver against his ear as if trying to shove it clear through his brain. “What happened?” “We’d better meet.” “When?” “Can you make it at six tonight?” asked Donatti. “Same place as last time?” “If that’s all right.” “I’ll be there,”