The mysterious death and life of Kim Jong Nam.
THE CAVERNOUS TERMINAL 2 DEPARture hall at Kuala Lumpur International Airport was filled with its usual morning clutter of giddy vacationers and harried businesspeople. Mothers helped children to overpriced bowls of noodle soup, while backpackers clutching dogeared travel guides recalled their beer soaked evenings.
The two young Asian women dissolved seamlessly into this jumble. Nobody paid much attention when they approached a portly male traveler in a pale blue suit, backpack slung over his right shoulder. As he lingered by the check-in kiosks, one woman grabbed the man from behind and the other pressed a small cloth to his face. They tussled for a few seconds, then the women relaxed their grip and melted away—not running, but not dawdling.
The man blinked in incomprehension, then rushed to the terminal help desk, trying to explain to the orange-jacketed staff what had just taken place. Soon he complained of feeling groggy and having difficulty seeing and was helped to a nearby first-aid station. He was strapped onto a stretcher and sent to a hospital in an ambulance—but died en route. Both women had long since fled, taking a taxi from outside the terminal to a midrange hotel southwest of the city center.
Only the next day, Feb. 14, did it emerge that what had been captured on airport cameras was a very public assassination. The dead man had been booked on a 10 a.m. flight to the semiautonomous Chinese territory of Macau under the name Kim Chol, 46. But his passport was a fake. His true identity was Kim Jong Nam, 45, eldest son of former North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il and half brother to current Supreme Leader Kim Jong Un.
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