Chapter 11

“You have no proof they’re linked.”

Kangho had expected that answer. He respected his chief, but sometimes you had to help him see things. The important things.

“I know, Chief, but someone put a hole in the GU Electronics building. A week later there are fuckton of holes in the work of a big-time artist before his opening night. Did anyone think to measure them?”

He held up the JoongAng Ilbo that sat on his boss’s desk every morning.
“Look. Here. All the holes in those paintings are the same size. I’d bet they’re about the same as the one in GU’s wall. Think about it, boss — both times, someone breaks into a new building, sets off no alarms, has access to things worth a fortune… and takes nothing. Both at night.”

“One was done with a hammer. One with a knife.”

“I’m telling you, there’s a link.”

The chief stared at his detective. He didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Let the Gangnam police investigate their bizarre little art crime. You stick to the strange one on your turf.”

Kangho met his gaze, still hopeful.

“Your failure to get anything from the CCTV left us with nothing,” the chief went on. “No witnesses, no suspect. Half the building’s been interviewed. The last thing I need is you taking on another case you can’t solve. Work the one you have.”

“Boss, there’s nothing left to work. The hole’s in a CCTV blind spot. We checked every camera in and out of the area — no one carrying a hammer, no one carrying anything heavy enough to make that kind of hole. No one walks around the business district at night except drunk civil servants on their way home from the room salon. Not the most forthcoming witnesses. And you won’t let me go to the press.”

He paced as he spoke, voice climbing.
“No one’s come forward. And if anyone did, they were probably too drunk to remember their own names, let alone a guy with a hammer. The Gu family have put a black tent over the hole, and I need an appointment to see it. I need clearance to access my own crime scene!

Forensics tells me the guy probably used a large, heavy, blunt object. A large, heavy, blunt object — and there I was thinking he did it with a pair of chopsticks. Such insight from our scientists! And apparently, he never even stepped inside the building. Just smashed the wall and left.”

He dropped the sarcasm in his voice so his boss could see he cared, really cared, really wanted to actually close this case— both these cases.
“I had Woosung recheck the footage twice — nothing. If he left on foot, we’d have seen him. There are maybe a dozen cars caught on camera. Mostly taxis. Woosung’s tracking the drivers, but you know that crowd. They swap cars all the time. The names in the system probably aren’t the guys who were actually behind the wheel, and none of them are going to admit who took their shift.”

He paused, leaning on the desk. “Either let me talk to the press, or get me on the gallery case. Just let me look.”

The chief sighed. It was often easier to let Kangho get his way.
“You never did learn how to talk to your superiors, Detective.”

“Sorry, boss. Look — I know I let you down on the GU building, but I worked it right. I’m not giving up on it. I just need to see that gallery, in case there’s something that connects them.”

The chief’s silence told him he was close.

“Work the Gu case,” his Chief finally said. “Go back through the CCTV. Check the logbook. See who came through that night. Interview them again — maybe someone saw or heard something. But I’m not releasing this to the press. Not yet. If someone else makes the same connection you did, the media will be all over it like dogs on a bowl of black noodles. And when that happens, GU Electronics will stop sponsoring our community events.”

Kangho shrugged, set the newspaper down, and turned for the door.

“Detective,” the chief called after him. “I’ll talk to the Gangnam guys. Maybe get you in as a consultant. I don’t want them to know what you’re really doing.”

There it was. He’d given in.

“Thanks, boss. I won’t let you down.”

Kangho closed the door softly and stepped into the main room.

“Woosung,” he called, “your date’s cancelled. Get the logbooks. Don’t worry — I’ll get you a coffee. A very large coffee, with whipped cream and everything. You can see whatsherface next week.”