Chris Ross

Death By Umbrella

In 1978, Bulgarian dissident and playwright Georgi Markov was leaving the BBC London office where he worked and heading home. Waiting at a crowded bus stop, Markov felt a sudden sharp pain in his thigh and turned to see a large man bending down to pick up a black umbrella. The man apologized in a thick foreign accent and hopped into a taxi. Markov found a growing red pimple where he had felt the sting, and came down with a fever that night. Four days later, he was dead, the victim of one of the most diabolical assassinations in modern history — the Umbrella Incident.

Before his death, Markov managed to share with doctors and investigators the enigmatic theory that he had been struck with a poison-tipped umbrella by a Communist agent. While a postmortem examination of Markov’s body revealed no traces of poison, they did find a small, hollow pellet—about as large as the head of a pin—lodged in the back of his right thigh. When news of the incident was disclosed, Vladimir Kostov, a fellow Bulgarian defector and a friend of Markov’s, stepped forward with a similarly strange story. At a train station one day, he had felt a stinging pain in his back. He fell ill for a few days but recovered, and did not report the incident to the police. But when he was examined following Markov's death, an identical pellet was found still embedded in Kostov’s back.

The subsequent investigation of the pellet and the manner of its projection revealed the advanced technology behind the unorthodox murder weapon, leading most to believe the weapon and pellet were KGB-designed. The tiny pellet was an alloy of platinum and iridium, biologically inert metals that would not cause a physical immune reaction. Two holes bisected the pellet, which was so small and hard that investigators concluded they could only have been drilled by high-powered lasers. After a few tests, scientists reported that the pellet had contained a toxin known as ricin, which is widely used, easily produced, and can kill a human in very small doses. The effects of ricin poisoning are not immediately obvious, simulating a gradual but deadly illness.

With the help of the pellet recovered from Kostov, investigators determined that the pellet containing the ricin had actually been coated in a sugary substance, designed to melt at 37 C, the temperature of the human body, slowly releasing the toxin into the bloodstream. Kostov had survived because the coating had failed to melt completely.

Adopting the umbrella as the delivery system, investigators came to believe that the umbrella had functioned as a kind of gun, with an air compression chamber in the shaft ejecting the pellet when triggered from the umbrella handle. The explosion of a normal gun would have burned the fabric of Markov’s jeans and deformed the pellet.

In the ensuing prosecution of the case, one key witness, the deputy interior minister, committed suicide. Another Bulgarian spy believed to have been the operation’s commander was killed in an unexplained car accident. Another was sentenced to prison for destroying key files about the operation. But perhaps scariest of all is the account of Christopher C. Green, a scientist involved in the investigation, who pointed out that most individuals who believe the government is trying to kill them are delusional and paranoid. In a case where the truth was so much stranger than fiction, if Markov had not been of sound mind and a known target, investigators would have normally attributed the death to “febrile illness of unknown cause” and the pellet would likely never have been found.


Login or Sign up to leave a comment

Bookmark or Share

Relevant Links, According to Google

Related Articles

The Many Lives of LOMO

This issue’s icon: the people’s camera

Made in Russia: The Twelve-Sided Glass

Of all iconic objects of the Soviet era — the orb of the Sputnik, the needle of the Ostankino TV tower — none speaks to the Russian heart as clearly and loudly as the Glass.

Optimus Pride

Art Lebedev’s luminous, $1,500 keyboard emerges from the vapor

Related Blog Entries

Constipated, Hunchbacked, and Big-Eared: The Zaporozhets

 by Chris Ross
You may recall a short scene from the 1995 film GoldenEye, starring Pierce Brosnan as James Bond, in which 007 travels to Russia to meet up with a bumbling CIA agent played by Joe Don Baker. While the agents talk, Baker bangs at a squat little blue vehicle with a sledgehammer to start the engine. “Nice car,” Bond sniffs. The American replies, “She’s an ugly little bitch, but she gets you there.” Little did Western viewers know that this “ugly little bitch” was one of the Soviet Union's most recognizable, loved, and ridiculed cars: the Zaporozhets.

Bag of Hope: The Avoska

 by Chris Ross
Avos. “Perhaps.” “God willing.” “Hope against hope.” Pushkin baptized his fellow Slavs with this very phrase in Eugene Onegin: “Perhaps, o people's Shibboleth…” In Goncharov’s Oblomov, the spineless protagonist can barely splutter a sentence without its invocation: “And perhaps Zahar will contrive something…let's hope they'll manage without turning me out…well, things will be arranged somehow!" It is said that few words characterize the Russian outlook as succinctly as avos—a compact expression of the belief that, against all reason, something good might still turn up. So it should come as no surprise that the word eventually morphed into the avoska—the USSR’s portable, fishnet shopping sack.

The Soviet Scooter

In 1953, a year when Dwight Eisenhower became President, Soviet engineers produced something quite outstanding: the scooter. Just like almost everything else in the USSR, the scooter was initially a brick in the propaganda wall -- it was supposed to become the means of transportation which your typical Soviet citizen could buy for their average two-month paycheck (just like Lenin promised.) And the engineers delivered, by accidentally producing a masterpiece.
Tags