National Treasure

Peter Bleed

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781138404908
• eBook ISBN: 9781315423678
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Archaeology
• Index: Social Sciences

This teaching novel by archaeologist Peter Bleed demonstrates the complexities of contemporary collecting of archaeological antiques and delves into the world of 14th century Japan. Dr. Eric Mallow, a serious gun collector, complicates his life by acquiring a pair of Japanese swords at a gun show. He has no idea one of the swords was the personal weapon of a 14th century patriot, or that the other carries a blood-thirsty reputation as the "Son Killer." Various attempts to get them back complicate his life, from a Japanese politician wants the swords to cement his control over a religious cult to the leader of a Tokyo crime syndicate. National Treasure treats 600 years of history and societies that are worlds apart with accuracy and cultural detail. The book was a Finalist, 2001 Independent Book Publishers Awards, Multicultural Fiction.

1 | Eric Mallow

In which treasures are discovered but unclearly appreciated.

The Des Moines Gun Show - present day

Eric Mallow, dentist who collects fine firearms

Dawn Watanabe, Eric’s girlfriend

Jim Sime, a gun dealer from Chicago, Illinois

Mrs. Viola James, a widow from Adel, Iowa

Lloyd Peterson, Mrs. James’s next door neighbor

Eric Mallow leaned back from his patient’s mouth and put his probe and inspection mirror on the instrument tray. “Well, Mrs. McReavey, everything looks fine. The X-rays show a weakening in the enamel on that back molar, but I don’t think there’s anything we need to do right now. We’ll keep an eye on it. You’re doing a fine job keeping your teeth clean. Keep up the good work and I’ll see you again in six months.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Mrs. McReavey cooed and Eric gave her a reflex wink as he smiled his, “So long.”

Dropping Mrs. McReavey’s file on the receptionist’s desk, he asked, “How we doin’, Pam?”

“Just fine, doctor. Mr. Hamilton is already in X-ray and Cindy is starting to prep your 3:45,” she replied.

“You two run this place so well you don’t need me at all,” grinned Eric. “I’m going to try to get a hold of Dawn before I start the 3:45. Well you dial her for me? I’ll take it back at my desk.”

By the time Eric got to his desk and picked up the phone, Dawn’s number was ringing. “Thanks, Pam. I’m here now,” he said and heard the receptionist click off just as the voice at the other end said, “This is Dawn Watanabe.”

“Hi’ya,” was Eric’s opening line.

“You certainly sound chipper this afternoon.”

“I am pretty chipper. How are you?” Eric continued buoyantly.

“Oh, I’m pretty glad its Friday,” Dawn replied, trying to sound slightly less buoyant than Eric. “I don’t suppose you’re calling to say you don’t need me to drive you out to the airport.”

“Sorry, the trip’s still on. Is there a problem?”

“No. I was just hoping that I could talk you out of going to the dumb gun show. Why don’t you stay in town and we can go to a movie - or something?” Dawn let her voice trail off ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to go to a movie,” said Eric.

“Then we could ’or something,” countered Dawn.

“Now, what would Grandmother Watanabe say if she heard you talking like that?” Eric asked playfully.

Dawn giggled softly and knew that Eric’s mind was made up. “Oh, all right. What time shall I pick you up?”

“All my stuffs at the office and I’ll be ready to go by a quarter to five. The flight’s at 6:20 so we’ll have to move right along,” explained Eric. “Are we going to fit in the Miyata?” asked Dawn.

“No problem. I’m only taking small stuff. See’ya,” said Eric as he hung up.

Eric finished the afternoon’s appointments with forced attentiveness. He had been a dentist for nearly eight years so the technical work was largely automatic. Remaining conversational when he was distracted could be an effort and this afternoon he was d istracted.

As a serious gun collector, Eric was looking forward to spending the coming weekend at the annual spring gun show in Des Moines, Iowa. It had been some time since Eric had been able to devote a whole weekend to his hobby, so even though the Des Moines show would be a relatively small gathering, he was looking forward with anticipation and hope he might find something to add to his collection.

When his 4:15 appointment asked Eric if he was looking forward to the weekend, he said he was, but he did not go into detail. Gun collecting is not an easy hobby to explain. Most people view guns as dangerous weapons and can’t be convinced that they can be historically, technically, and aesthetically interesting. Friends who knew about Eric’s collection assumed that it cost him a great deal of money. In fact, the collection more than paid for itself. Friends also found it remarkable that Eric was not a shooter. He did hunt occasionally and some years ago had become proficient with semi-automatic pistols, since they were one of his collecting interests, but he had given up regular target practice because it took a great deal of time and didn’t really support his collecting interests.

The last patient of the day was finished up at 4:40, giving Eric just enough time to change clothes, check out with Pam and Cindy, and collect his things before Dawn arrived. All he would need for the weekend was contained in two aluminum Haliburton suitcases. After putting these in the backseat of Dawn’s car, he tried to make himself an attentive suitor as they drove to the airport.

“How was your day?” Eric asked as Dawn pulled out of the parking lot. Dawn was an editor of children’s books and she merrily told him of the problems she was having producing a book in which the central character was a bear who periodically removed his fur. “I mean honestly! What would I tell the illustrator?” she asked.

When she dropped Eric off at the gate, Dawn asked, “Okay, I’ll pick you up at 7:30 Sunday, right?”

“That’s it. I’ll look forward to seeing you then. Maybe we can take in a movie,” he paused, “or something.”

“Guess again, Buster. You lost your chance,” she replied playfully.

The Des Moines gun show is held twice a year in a large barn on the state fair grounds. With only four hundred tables, it is smaller than the major national gun shows, but draws dealers and collectors from across the Midwest. Furthermore, between the public opening at 9:00 a. m. Saturday and closing on Sunday afternoon, about four thousand locals pass through the show. Eric had always found that mix was sure to yield something interesting.

From the airport, Eric drove his rental car directly to the show. The general public is not admitted on Friday evening, but dealers who pay $45 each for their tables can arrive then to set up their displays and begin their dealing. This was the time Eric liked best.

The show manager -- a deputy sheriff who runs the event twice a year as a side job -- was sitting at the registration table inside the front door of the hall when Eric arrived.

“Hi, Herb. I don’t think you’ve moved since I saw you last winter,” said Eric putting his suitcases on the table.

“Ahh, bullshit. I’ve moved plenty since then. Running these goddamn things is wall-to-wall bullshit and I’ve just about had it,” he replied. Regulars calculated that Herb made several thousand dollars at every show, but still, he complained about the hassles he endured.

“Mallow. Pistols. Two tables, right?” asked Herb, looking over his glasses.

“That’s it,” smiled Eric.

“Okay, I’ve moved you a little closer to the front this time,” he said pointing to a floor plan of the table arrangement. “You’re right here at the end of column two. That’s damn good space and I won’t change it so don’t ask.”

“Herb, be cool! That’s a great location. Thanks a lot,” Eric said as he started toward his tables.

Looking around, Eric saw only a few tables that were open for business so he decided to begin by setting up his own display. He had enough English flintlock pistols and artistically engraved guns to offer fine displays, but at this show his presentation would be on Mauser “broomhandle” pistols. Two weeks ago he had added a very special broomhandle to his collection and he was looking forward to showing it off.

First, Eric took a heavy green table cover from one of the suitcases and spread it on his tables, making sure it was smooth and that its embroidered legend, “Mauser Self-Loading Pistols, 1896- 1942” was centered across the space. Eric then slid that suitcase away and opened the other, which contained the five pistols he had selected for the display. Each gun had a machined plastic stand to hold it upright and a laminated label describing it.

Eric favored Mauser pistols because they were among the first successful semi-automatic small arms. He liked the variations and interesting associations the pistols had acquired in their forty-five years of production, from before the turn of the century until the early years of World War II. Four of the guns Eric had selected for this display were excellent examples of rare variations of the Mauser design: a pistol and shoulder stock made in 1896--the first year of production, a Chinese copy of a Mauser made to shoot .45 caliber ammunition, a German military pistol that had been captured and reissued by the Bolshevik forces during the Russian Civil War, and, finally, a gun that had been made for the Turkish army before World War I. These guns were primarily there to highlight Eric prized possession which he placed at the center of the display.

Its label indicated it was an early, officer’s model Mauser and translated the German inscription engraved on the left side of the frame: HOLD ME WITH HONOR! Kaiser Wilhelm II shot five rounds from me at the Spandau Arsenal, April 12, 1897. Hail the Power of Greater Germany! In setting this gun out, Eric made sure the silver medallion on the fine silver cable that sealed the gun’s action was clearly visible.

“What’s that you got there, Ric?”

Eric turned to see Jim Sime, a high end gun dealer from Springfield, Illinois, standing at his side. “Its a broomhandle Mauser I picked up two weeks ago,” Eric said.

Jim leaned toward the cased pistol and examined it closely. After a moment he said, “Holy shit! Where’d you find that?”

“Isn’t it nice?” smiled Eric.

“Nice? It’s fabulous.” Turning toward Eric, Jim asked, “Is it real?”

“Absolutely!” Eric said confidently.

“I suppose you got it from the vet or something?”

“Damn near. I got it from the estate of the widow of a collector. He bought it in the ’30s from Ted Dexter who’d offered it in one of his catalogs. I got a copy of the catalog and notarized correspondence from the US colonel who brought it back to the States in 1920. He was the American representative on the German disarmament commission and took it out of the Spandau Works. It’s a hundred percent,” Eric said.

“Wow. Amazing,” Jim said, shaking his head. “It looks like that wire seals the action.”

“Exactly,” Eric said. “After Willie fired five rounds from the gun, the arsenal sealed the action with that silver cable. Nobody has shot it since. It’s the six shot model, and the inscription says the Kaiser only fired five, so there must be one more round still in chamber. It’s still loaded with the Kaiser’s bullet! If you pulled the hammer back, it would be ready to go.” Eric was obviously pleased to be able to describe the gun to someone who appreciated its rarity.

“Amazing,” Jim said again. “What’d you have to give for it?”

“It wasn’t cheap,” said Eric with a coy smile.

“Well, then, let me ask you the other obvious question,” said Jim. “What do you figure its worth?”

“I’m not planning to sell it so I haven’t really thought about it,” said Eric. “What do you think?”

“That’s a tough one,” Jim said shaking his head. “By itself, the gun is worth probably ten, maybe twelve grand, but the link to the Kaiser is very sexy. I’m sure there’s a bunch of Krauts in Germany who’d really go for that Kaiser’s bullet stuff.” He paused in thought before saying, “I’d expect to get between 60 and 70 K for the gun.”

“That last bullet is a temptation, though,” Eric said. “Wouldn’t it be neat to find out if it’s still good after better nearly a hundred years?”

“Eric, whoever breaks that seal to find out if that bullet is still good better expect to take about ninety percent off the value of the piece. If it was mine, I’d let the next owner snap that cap.”

Before continuing on his way, Jim asked, “What’d you bring to sell?” to which Eric replied, “Oh, nothing important.”

“Well, bring whatever you got over to my table,” Jim said. “I’m over against the front wall,” he added pointing. Before going on his way he took one of Eric business cards and added, “I’m serious about the Kaiser’s pistol, Ric. If you ever want to sell it, let me know.”

Eric checked his display one more time. It met with his approval. He took satisfaction in knowing that any Mauser collector would be glad to own any of the guns he was presenting and that very few other collectors could offer a display of comparable rarity and worth. The fact that only a handful of people at the show would fully appreciate the display did not bother him, although it did remind him to get his “Do Not Touch” signs out of his domestic su itcase.

By the time his display was out, several other dealers had arrived and begun setting out their merchandise. Eric started out toward the section of the show he guessed Jim Sime had not yet visited. Several dealers were setting out either new guns or low quality shooters’ supplies. There were also a depressing number of dealers selling camouflage clothing and survival gear. Seeing this, Eric wondered if it had been wise to bring top quality items to a blue collar show like Des Moines.

Stopping at a table being arranged by a fellow in a flannel shirt and jeans, Eric asked permission to look at a pistol holster. “Sure, go ahead,” was his automatic response.

As he turned the holster over Eric asked, “What do you have on it?” to which the man replied with a shrug, “Seventy-five bucks.”

Looking inside the flap, Eric said, “It’s kind of neat. Do you suppose it’s a military holster?”

“I really don’t know nothin’ about it,” the man said with another shrug.

Holding the holster so the man could see, Eric rubbed his fingers across the light scuffs in its surface and asked, “You got the gun for it?”

“Nope,” apologized the man. “I got it with a bunch of shit from an old guy over in Cedar Rapids. He didn’t know nothin’ about it and said he never had a gun to fit it.”

“Boy, ain’t that the way it always is?” Eric said as he put the holster back down on the table. “Can you do any better on it?”

The man shrugged his shoulders yet again and said, “Oh, I’d take a half for it.”

Eric picked it up again, looked it over and said, “Yeah, what the heck. That’s fair.” He gave the man a crisp $50 bill and continued on through the show.

As he walked on, Eric had to suspect he could have paid less for the holster. The seller had certainly paid no more than a few dollars of it, but he...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title
• Copy Right Page
• Content Page
• Prologue | Ashiya Hidetaka
• 1 | Eric Mallow
• 2 | Lee James
• 3 | Odagiri Satoshi
• 4 | Maeda Nobuhide
• 5 | Tsuji Takeru
• 6 | Ken Sawada
• 7 | Dave Stalgaard
• 8 | Sawada Kenji
• 9 | Kutani Noburo
• 10 | Sato Yoshimasa
• 11 | Dawn Watanabe
• 12 | Jerry Lupinski
• 13 | Lotte Swanson
• 14 | Osatsu Juken
• 15 | Hagi Akira
• Afterward
• Author 's Notes