In the end, he went quietly. A prison warden swung open the door to his 36-sq.-ft. cell and told him it was time to go. "Where?" Slobodan Milosevic asked softly. "The Hague," said the warden. Milosevic nodded, changed from his sweatsuit to an open-necked shirt, and joined his armed escort. They made their way through the central prison's corridors toward a small rear door, where a white-and-blue police van was waiting. He was whisked to a helicopter pad outside Belgrade and met by agents from the United Nations war-crimes tribunal. Six and a half hours later, the man whose policies had...
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