Read Online That Will Do Nicely by Ian Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ian Campbell
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Liquid Opaque solution. Gradually and painstakingly, he 'removed' all the pinholes. It was a slow, laborious, but necessary method. Finally, when he was quite satisfied that the master positive was as blemish-free as he could make it, he made a new master negative from it by contact printing it and when that was completely dry and retouched, he used it to expose several prints of the newly created motif onto single weight glossy paper. When these in turn had been washed and dried, flattened and retouched, he made a montage of the motif DALLASBANK mounting the photographic images of the motif onto stiff art-board with cow-gum contact adhesive. He had created a piece of artwork some eight times the size of the actual che ques, but to the same scale as the cheques would be printed. Next, he mounted it onto a sheet of art-board, which he covered with a graded sheet of Letraset mezzotint in a pale straw color. He photographed the resulting montage with the technical camera, straight on, then from the side, where, by utilizing the swing 'movements' of the camera’s back and front he was able to create a distorted image, with the letters tapering in scale from one side to the other. Everything was held in sharp focus by careful use of the camera's aperture control.
The resulting printing plate for the web-offset press, produced a very similar effect to the background of the che ques he had studied. The plate was large enough to cover more than three times the size of the actual cheques. If everything worked as he intended he would be able to print three-up on a sheet of A4 sized paper, thus reducing the necessary running time of the press.
By now, he was working 12 hours a day, alternating between the lay-out desk, darkroom and print-shop. Each morning while his eyes were sharp, he devoted himself to the artwork and photography, leaving the afternoons free to run the press. Working this way meant that the printing could be left to dry overnight, which saved time. Even so, the days gradually merged into weeks.
With Sam's semi-reluctant approval, he had stopped shaving at the outset of the printing work and by Christmas he had grown a full beard to form the basis of his later disguise. He completed the marathon of the printing work in mid-February, leaving only the cheque-numbering still to be done.
The following Sunday was his 39th birthday and they celebrated it in their favorite way. After making love, breakfasting in bed and hunting down the inevitable wayward crumbs of toast which always turned up in places where they were least welcome, they returned to discussing their grand scheme.
"We've come a long way," commented Pascoe, having given up the hunt for the crumbs momentarily. "Everything's ready except for the numbering sequences. How do we stand with the numbering problem?" Sam appeared not to have heard him. She ignored his question and threw in one of her own instead.
"Did I tell you I'd found an office in the City? In a place called Change Alley, just off Threadneedle Street and it's quite reasonably priced."
"You are joking," he said. "It's not really called Change Alley, is it?"
"You'll see for yourself as soon as you visit it. I thought the name was rather apt."
"O.K. I believe you. Now, what about the numbering system?" He turned on to his side, facing her and started to lightly tickle her ribs to encourage an answer to his question. Sam merely giggled.
"I've taken a three month lease from next quarter day. I do hope that's all right." She continued, wriggling across the bed in an effort to escape his touch.
"That's great... darling, but what about your friend at the University... the one with the working knowledge of the MIRA system?" He tickled her again, moving his hand from her ribs to the inside of her thigh. The sound of her breathing changed slightly, increasing its rhythm.
"Oh him?" s he replied ingenuously, trying her best to ignore Pascoe's roving fingers, "I didn't... need... him, in the
The resulting printing plate for the web-offset press, produced a very similar effect to the background of the che ques he had studied. The plate was large enough to cover more than three times the size of the actual cheques. If everything worked as he intended he would be able to print three-up on a sheet of A4 sized paper, thus reducing the necessary running time of the press.
By now, he was working 12 hours a day, alternating between the lay-out desk, darkroom and print-shop. Each morning while his eyes were sharp, he devoted himself to the artwork and photography, leaving the afternoons free to run the press. Working this way meant that the printing could be left to dry overnight, which saved time. Even so, the days gradually merged into weeks.
With Sam's semi-reluctant approval, he had stopped shaving at the outset of the printing work and by Christmas he had grown a full beard to form the basis of his later disguise. He completed the marathon of the printing work in mid-February, leaving only the cheque-numbering still to be done.
The following Sunday was his 39th birthday and they celebrated it in their favorite way. After making love, breakfasting in bed and hunting down the inevitable wayward crumbs of toast which always turned up in places where they were least welcome, they returned to discussing their grand scheme.
"We've come a long way," commented Pascoe, having given up the hunt for the crumbs momentarily. "Everything's ready except for the numbering sequences. How do we stand with the numbering problem?" Sam appeared not to have heard him. She ignored his question and threw in one of her own instead.
"Did I tell you I'd found an office in the City? In a place called Change Alley, just off Threadneedle Street and it's quite reasonably priced."
"You are joking," he said. "It's not really called Change Alley, is it?"
"You'll see for yourself as soon as you visit it. I thought the name was rather apt."
"O.K. I believe you. Now, what about the numbering system?" He turned on to his side, facing her and started to lightly tickle her ribs to encourage an answer to his question. Sam merely giggled.
"I've taken a three month lease from next quarter day. I do hope that's all right." She continued, wriggling across the bed in an effort to escape his touch.
"That's great... darling, but what about your friend at the University... the one with the working knowledge of the MIRA system?" He tickled her again, moving his hand from her ribs to the inside of her thigh. The sound of her breathing changed slightly, increasing its rhythm.
"Oh him?" s he replied ingenuously, trying her best to ignore Pascoe's roving fingers, "I didn't... need... him, in the
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