Viktor Ivanovich began his journey to the high rank of the king of Soviet counterfeiters by dipping a nickel in ink and putting it to paper. It was in 1965. After reflecting on the resulting impression, he went to the regional library named after M.Y. Lermontov. M.Y. Lermontov, thinking to find there books on printing that interested him. Neither there, nor in second-hand stores, nor in conversations with employees of the printing house of the newspaper “Stavropol Pravda” secret knowledge of the mint Baranov, alas, did not acquire. And then Viktor Ivanovich took a vacation and flew to Moscow.

In those days, the Lenin Library hospitably opened its doors to any Soviet citizen striving for knowledge, and very soon Baranov was already outlining books on printing. There were a lot of books, not enough time, so the guest of the capital stole a few rare editions. “I could not resist, sinful, - Victor Ivanovich explains his immoral deed. - It was the only theft in my life”. Then he went to the booksellers' shops and enriched himself with books by the German author Ginaksa “Fundamentals of Modern Cincography”, an employee of Goznakoizdat Krylov “Making Clichés” of 1921 issue and “Fundamentals of Reproduction Technique” by Schultz. With these precious finds Baranov returned home.

Having studied the literature, Baranov realized that he would have to thoroughly master almost 20 specialties. In fact, the task was impossible: he had to repeat alone what was created by the whole production, which had at its disposal classified technologies, hard-to-find materials and unique human resources. But for some reason Baranov did not pay any attention to this, locked himself in the barn and began his experiments.

It took him four years to learn how to make watermarks and paper of the right quality, two and a half years to make ink for gravure printing, and a year to make ink for letterpress printing. He ordered parts for the equipment piece by piece to craftsmen at different Stavropol factories. He bought chemical reagents from the transformer plant. During the years of experiments in the shed he studied etching and photographic works, mastered copying on albumin, gelatin, PVA and PVA, learned to make wooden and rubber clichés. Baranov the technician was engaged in these activities.

Baranov the artist was engaged in reproduction of the security grid on banknotes - fanciful ornaments superimposed on each other.

To the outside eye, they looked like faded streaks, but Baranov took apart the protective mesh layer by layer, surprised to find images of lion faces and mythical animals. “I had several shirts on that had just rotted away during these 12 years of searching,” says the king of counterfeiters. - I could sit in a barn for a day or two.” He quit his job as a chauffeur for the regional committee and went to work as a firefighter to be on duty 24 hours a day, three days a week.

Baranov had no friends, because friends like to visit without knocking. For suspicious neighbors he regularly arranged an “open house”. Curious old ladies who looked into the workshop, a view of the locksmith machine, magnifier and tanks for developing. Baranov hid all the most interesting things disassembled under the racks. Only a suspicious hunting neighbor continued to believe that Baranov was pouring shotguns in the shed at night.

Finally, in 1976, having printed another sample of fifty-rouble, he could not find in it any differences from the real fifty. Only Lenin on the watermark gave away the fake. “I made him fifteen years younger,” explains Baranov. - I didn't like the old one.” One could start enriching oneself. But, strangely enough, Baranov did not rush to print suitcases of money. Even the police admit that Baranov used his money machine very modestly.

The only serious acquisition for all these years was a car. And that, according to Victor Ivanovich, the entire amount was paid by him from honest labor savings. “I did not go to restaurants, did not smoke, did not drink, I had no girls. And there was no TV, there was only a small refrigerator. I didn't need it, I was doing work.” All the money went to make new equipment. To his family he did not give counterfeit bills. “My wife once asked me where the money came from,” Baranov recalls. - I said that I offer my inventions to factories. I did not give my wife much money: 25, 30, 50 rubles.”

In parallel with the study of coinage, Baranov observed the behavior of sellers at markets to understand how “money walks”. For example, fish merchants always take bills with wet hands, while meat merchants often have bloody hands. Caucasians willingly take new crispy bills. As a result, Baranov pocketed 70 fifty dollars, after which he decided to stop with them. I'm fed up with wrappers.

The king of counterfeiters decided to take a swing at the quarter - the most protected and, in Baranov's opinion, the most beautiful treasury ticket of the USSR. “If the ruble was the most protected, I would have made a ruble,” says Viktor Ivanovich, and we believe him. It was not greed that ruined the king of counterfeiters, but pride. Using familiar technology, he masterfully recreated the bill and, having printed a sufficient amount of money (according to police assumptions, about 5000 rubles), went to sell them in the Crimea. And here a mishap occurred.

Having bought tomatoes in Simferopol on the street from some grandmother, he went to a telephone booth to make a call, forgetting his briefcase with money. Having already moved a decent distance away, he realized what had happened and rushed back. But neither the grandmother nor the briefcase was there. Thus, the trade in tomatoes brought that day a shrewd resident of Simferopol 5000 rubles net profit. And grief-stricken Baranov went back to Stavropol to start the machine again.

It was when creating a new batch of quarters that the maestro made a fatal blunder. While fixing the cliché to create a protective grid, Baranov did not pay attention to the fact that the cliché was upside down. As a result, after printing the money, he discovered that in the place where the wave should be uphill, it was downhill. Thinking that no one would notice this, he decided not to reject the batch. However, in one of the banks, which eventually got such a bill, a sharp-eyed cashier noticed the difference and raised the alarm. From that moment, as they write in thrillers, Baranov had only months to live free.

“By the time of the arrest I had all the equipment dismantled,” he says. - Was going to drive around the ponds and lakes and scatter it there in pieces. I didn't throw it away only because it was April, muddy, impossible to drive through. And thank God. Otherwise, the divers would have had to look for these parts at the bottom of the ponds.

Baranov was transferred from the Stavropol pre-trial detention center to Moscow, to Butyrka. Every day he was visited by specialists, to whom he demonstrated the victory of the human mind over Goznak during twelve investigative experiments.

The Goznak technologist wrote in his conclusion: “Counterfeit money tickets of 25 and 50 rubles denominations made by Baranov V.I. are outwardly close to genuine banknotes and are difficult to identify in circulation. That is why this forgery was very dangerous and could cause distrust of the population to genuine banknotes”.

Victor Ivanovich willingly shared his developments. For twelve years he had been hiding, and now finally there were people who could appreciate his talent and titanic labor. The king of counterfeiters gladly gave out the recipe for his solution, etching copper several times faster than it was done in Goznak (under the name of “Baranov's solvent” it was used in production for the next 15 years). Baranov served his term in a special regime colony in Dimitrovgrad, Ulyanovsk region.