At 7:30 one morning last week, King Farouk's past caught up with him. He looked out of the huge window of his office in the summer palace in Alexandria, saw tanks and cannons of a hostile army —his own—advancing under cover of Egyptian Royal Air Force planes. Farouk had made and unmade Premiers and generals, manipulated the Arab League, and lost $140,000 in a single night of gambling. But last week, at the payoff, he couldn't command a battalion. His order to the bodyguards to resist never reached them because the messenger was...
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