Sabotage by Smoke

In 1978, Bulgarian dissident Georgi Markov stood on Waterloo Bridge in London when he felt a sharp sting in the back of his leg. A man behind him had bumped into him—politely, almost forgettably. But within hours, Markov collapsed. A few days later, he was dead.

The weapon? A modified umbrella.

The tip had injected a nearly microscopic pellet containing ricin, one of the deadliest known poisons. The umbrella was rumored to be part of a Bulgarian-Soviet assassination plot, and no one was ever charged.

Sometimes the tools of war don’t look like weapons at all.

And in the mid-20th century, that idea found a particularly strange expression... in cigars.

They looked like ordinary cigars—fat, fragrant, expertly rolled. The kind you’d expect to see in the hand of a general, or a revolutionary.

But in the tense years between World War II and the Cold War, exploding cigars became a real, documented part of espionage strategy.

The concept was exactly what it sounds like: hollow out a cigar, pack it with a small explosive, hand it to your target, and wait for the puff that triggers a blast.

It sounds ridiculous. And yet it was real.

In Nazi Germany, exploding cigars were part of a broader psychological warfare effort designed by the OSS (the predecessor to the CIA). Some were meant to kill. Others were designed just to maim—a severed hand, a ruined jaw—creating fear among officers and distrust among troops.

But no one took the idea further than the United States did during the Cold War, particularly when it came to one man: Fidel Castro.

Castro, for all his ruthlessness and revolutionary bravado, was a man of habits. He loved Cuban cigars—specifically a long, dark variety hand-rolled in Havana. His affection for them was so well-known that it became a vulnerability.

The CIA noticed.

Declassified documents show that among the hundreds of bizarre assassination attempts dreamed up against Castro—including poisoned diving suits, toxic seashells, and chemically altered ink pens—one of the more plausible options was the exploding cigar.

The idea? Create a cigar rigged with a small but lethal charge, smuggle it into his circle, and let his own routine do the rest. He lights up, he exhales, and the problem solves itself.

It sounds theatrical. And it was.

The plan was greenlit internally. The cigars were built. But the plot fizzled. The cigars were never delivered, or perhaps intercepted. Castro, meanwhile, kept puffing away—oblivious to just how close his indulgence had come to turning deadly.

And it wasn’t just him.

Exploding cigars became something of an espionage meme throughout the 1950s and ’60s—rumored to have appeared in Cuba, Berlin, and even Southeast Asia. They weren’t high-tech. They weren’t always successful. But they sent a message:

The things you enjoy most may be the things that undo you.

It’s a lesson that extends far beyond the world of spies and saboteurs.

In personal finance, there’s a certain kind of danger that hides inside luxuries. Not because luxury is inherently bad—but because it can disguise risk.

A cigar looks harmless. Pleasant, even. But sometimes, that’s the problem.

A new car might feel like freedom—but it can quietly chain you to five years of payments, insurance, and depreciation.

A bigger house might signal success—but it might also come with property taxes, maintenance, and lifestyle upgrades you didn’t fully calculate.

Even vacations, renovations, or “just this once” splurges can carry hidden weight—especially if they become habits instead of exceptions.

None of this is about guilt. It’s about awareness.

Just because something feels like a reward doesn’t mean it’s harmless. In fact, some of the most damaging financial decisions people make are disguised as celebrations.

That’s the trick with luxuries: they feel earned. Deserved. Emotionally safe. Which makes them harder to question—and easier to underestimate.

Fidel Castro didn’t suspect the cigar because he loved it. It was part of his identity. Part of his brand. He wasn’t looking for a threat there… which made it the perfect hiding place.

Financial risk often works the same way. It’s not always hiding in the things you fear. It’s often hiding in the things you like.

So enjoy the cigar—metaphorically or otherwise. But maybe check the label. And make sure it’s not wired to something that could blow up your plans.