In the predawn gloom at Leopold ville's Ndjili Airport, the DC-8 jetliner whined to a halt on the hardstand. Almost coyly, it poked its nose between a pair of aircraft chartered to ferry the last United Nations soldiers away from the Congo. From the hatch of the first-class compartment stepped a tall, plump man in a severe black suit, grinning like an African Fernandel. Burly, rifle-swinging Congolese cops and nervous Surete plainclothesmen hustled him into a black Chevy Impala with government plates, and off he sped into the flower-and sewage-scented dark. Thus...
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