HLM -Chapter 1153 The Band is Back

In recent years, New Zealand Customs had stepped up efforts to crack down on travelers carrying cash across the border, officially citing the need to prevent organized money-laundering activities.

Cash-detection dogs were trained specifically for this purpose.

Wang Bo knew that currently, travelers were allowed to carry the equivalent of up to NZD 10,000 in cash without declaring it. Any amount below this could freely cross the border, but exceeding it could be troublesome. However, as long as it wasn’t an excessively large sum—say, just twenty or thirty thousand—it was generally okay, provided the traveler honestly explained the legal source of the funds to the customs officers.

If someone tried to bring a large sum without declaring it, the consequences could be serious—they would be taken to a “black room” for inspection.

McCray briefed him on this, explaining that this time they were going to train cash-detection dogs. He was helping as a friend of customs.

Wang Bo was puzzled. He asked, “Do you really need dogs for this? Doesn’t customs already screen luggage with X-rays? Wouldn’t that be enough?”

“No,” McCray shook his head. “X-ray machines can only detect paper materials inside luggage. They can’t tell whether it’s currency or not. That’s when cash-detection dogs come in.”

Wang Bo laughed. “So Labradors are multi-talented! Were these pups’ mothers cash-detection dogs?”

Having trained many dogs, he had picked up some knowledge about working breeds.

The lineage of a working dog was crucial. Nearly all police dogs were the offspring of police or military dogs; guide dogs and narcotics dogs followed the same principle.

McCray shook his head again. “These pups’ parents were all narcotics dogs. At least they’ve worked in customs, so training them shouldn’t be too difficult.”

New Zealand was one of the first countries to use narcotics-detection dogs. They selected pups with strong pedigrees and raised them in isolation from an early age. This made the dogs highly sensitive to drugs, allowing them to perform exceptionally in customs narcotics inspections.

However, each dog specialized in its own field. While their noses were extremely sensitive, they could only detect drugs—not other contraband.

To address this, New Zealand Customs invested manpower and resources into training cash-detection dogs to sniff out money.

Wang Bo hesitated. “But I only know how to train police dogs, and it’s not even me doing the training—it’s a skilled officer under me.”

McCray patted his shoulder warmly. “Don’t worry, buddy. It’s not hard.”

“I’ll explain the principle,” he continued. “You know that banknotes are made from special paper and printed with ink, which gives them a unique scent. Especially circulated notes—they acquire a distinct odor after passing through many hands. This scent is strong, and for dogs with an exceptional sense of smell, they can quickly and accurately locate the source among large amounts of luggage.”

Wang Bo chuckled wryly. He really wasn’t good at this. “I’m not refusing to help, Director McCray, but neither I nor my team are skilled at this. How about you arrange for a dog-training expert to stay and guide us?”

McCray’s face lit up. “No problem! Look, these two are the top dog-training experts from the Dunedin Police Center. They’ll stay and train these pups.”

Wang Bo shook hands with them and said, “That’s great. I also have a few puppies here. You can train them as well, but I want to raise them as narcotics and riot-control dogs to maintain order.”

The two officers outranked him, but they dared not disobey him. In Sunset Town, Wang Bo was the boss—a fact ingrained in everyone who knew them.

Meanwhile, the high-profile jewelry robbery hadn’t cooled off despite Wang Bo stepping back. News of it kept surfacing, and the public remained highly attentive.

Reporters had learned of Saludi’s involvement, staking out Sunset Town to try to interview him. Wang Bo decided to protect him, sending him to stay with Li Xing for now. Saludi didn’t need to do cleaning work; instead, he would manage firearms for the scouts’ camp and the live-action CS training camp.

As for the reporters stationed around town, Wang Bo welcomed them—they were contributing to the local economy. The influx of journalists had even boosted Sunset Town’s GDP.

Later, when the Sunset Band returned, they were shocked to see so many reporters in town. Reddy lamented to Wang Bo, “I wish they were here for us.”

The band was well-known now, but their influence was limited to New Zealand, as only one album had been a hit. They hadn’t produced any other standout work recently.

Wang Bo knew this was due to their departure from the bar, but the band didn’t—they were simply frustrated and had come back to Sunset Town for leisure.

That afternoon, while having coffee together, Ryan said, “I had to bring them back. Everyone’s been restless lately. Staying in Auckland any longer would lead to trouble.”

“What happened?” Wang Bo asked, sipping his coffee.

Ryan replied, “Once you’ve tasted fine wine, who wants to drink horse urine? We’ve experienced the feeling of fame and want to create better music, gain more recognition.”

“But our inspiration has run dry. The music we produce isn’t even enjoyable to us, let alone the fans. Many have turned to West Drug for inspiration, but I don’t want to see my friends go down that path.”

This wasn’t exaggeration. Singers, painters, sculptors, actors, writers—all need inspiration. Without it, they are nothing.

Hill had experienced this. Before he could write good works, he struggled just to survive, living in Sunset Town to make ends meet.

Under such circumstances, many sought artificial inspiration through substances. But this was a self-destructive approach. A brief euphoric period would inevitably be followed by prolonged emptiness. Their bodies and lives would collapse.

Wang Bo patted Ryan on the shoulder. “I don’t understand songwriting, but I know your roots. Ryan, you belong to the Flame Mountain Bar. Spend a few days there—the familiar environment might spark new ideas.”

Ryan sipped his coffee. “We’ll go tonight. Honestly, I already have some ideas since returning to Sunset Town. This afternoon, sipping iced coffee under the trees in the cool breeze—it’s already a relaxing song in itself.”

Reddy’s expression suddenly lit up with excitement. “Yes! A relaxing song! Ryan, we’ve been going the wrong way. Why did we insist on screaming music? Let’s try a new style—I think we’ll shock everyone!”