The Lingala Code

The Congo of the early 1960's was a snakepit of aggressive influence: subtle, clumsy and frequently violent. To Michel Vernon, ex-fighter pilot and Ph.D. in French literature, his assignment as the CIA's, resident busybody in the Leopoldville Embassy was a murderous post, carrying heavy responsibilities. None of his expertise prepared him for the terrible shock when Colonel Ted Stearns, his best friend, now Air Attaché in the Congo, was shot to death.

Burglar? Fanatic? Intimate friend, or deadly enemy? The solution offered by Inspector Mbenge of the Congolese police satisfied no one. It seemed obvious to Mike Vernon that Mbenge had beaten a confession out of the half-dead native whom he paraded as the murderer.

Mike had made friends among the natives, above all, Albert Seku, who had been useful in forming the core of the intelligence apparatus that told Mike what was happening beneath the surface of the Congo—at least fingernail deep. Seku had brains, discretion and an abundance of courage. Now, with his help, Mike began to collect bits and pieces of information he needed to answer his questions. Somebody had paid a hundred dollars for the Browning automatic used to kill Stearns. Who? Somebody had paid the killer fifty dollars to do the job. Who? And why?

Not everyone in high places wanted these questions answered. And most of them were suspect. Mike discovered that in some circles even he himself was not above suspicion.

Ted Stearns's great mistake had been to take on as mistress the Swedish beauty who headed the translation section for the United Nations Military Mission. Had she told everything she knew?

The Lingala Code was the language Mike and one of his assistants had invented for use when they needed to conceal the Congo's revelations from its enemies and even its friends. It was a constant reminder to Mike that other missionaries had preceded him, others who knew that the heart of man was darker than any part of Africa.