Her limited understanding of the man had helped construct a Promethean edifice out of the man, and she had shared that towering image of the man with ...he world, Berensen’s reputation rested on his music, to be sure, but reputations are all too often manufactured and embellished to suit commercial needs, and his reputation had been in her capable hands ever since his surprise emergence from the Soviet Union thirty years ago. She had shaped and molded his public persona as surely as any sculptor. It was gone two in the afternoon. I lay there on the bed for a moment, just staring at the ceiling.“Tony, have you woken up yet?” Father Petrou called.“Give me a minute, Father.”“I’ll be in my office,” he replied.Fifteen minutes later I walked into Father Petrou’s office, under my arm the bag containing the money. My good friend, the priest, was reading from the bible which was spread open on his desk. If I hadn’t coughed, he wouldn’t have noticed me standing there.“Merry Christmas, Father. More

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