HLM -Chapter 752 Experiencing the Atmosphere

Sitting in the car, Wang Bo was brushing Zhuang Ding’s fur while asking curiously, “Sheriff, why do you think the task force decided to recruit me this time?”

Strictly speaking, Wang Bo wasn’t even an official member of the police force.

Becoming a police officer in New Zealand wasn’t something you could do halfway through life. First, you had to become a police recruit, and regardless of your academic background or past career, everyone had to start from scratch—undergoing basic training at the Royal New Zealand Police College.

Only those who passed the training were accepted into the police force; those who failed would be eliminated midway.

Wang Bo had never received professional police training. The only reason he’d become the sheriff of Sunset Town was that when the town was first established, the government didn’t take it seriously—no one wanted to come here to serve as a police officer.

Although the police system in New Zealand was technically contractual, it was not much different from a lifetime position. As long as one didn’t make a major mistake, one would not be dismissed.

However, there was one thing that mattered greatly—integration. If you were isolated by your colleagues, the job became impossible to do.

And the best way to integrate was to join the force from the very beginning, not halfway through. That was exactly why no one had wanted to come to Sunset Town at first.

Back then, there was no sign that the town would ever prosper; it might have easily gone bankrupt midway. In New Zealand, it was perfectly legal for a township to go bankrupt—just like Tahiti Town, which was currently on the brink of bankruptcy.

If Sunset Town had gone under, the police stationed there would have been reassigned randomly to other precincts. That meant two things: the new assignment might not be ideal, and it would be extremely difficult to blend into a new department’s circle.

From the passenger seat, Sheriff Smith said, “This time we’re short on people, so we’re bringing in anyone who can get the job done.”

Wang Bo: “…”

Seeing his expression change through the rearview mirror, Sheriff Smith burst out laughing and said, “Alright, mate, I’m teasing you. I’m the one who recommended you to join the task force.”

“First, this case involves ranches—and among all the officers, you’re one of the few who actually run a farm on the side.”

“Second, we need ethnic diversity within the police. You know how it is in New Zealand—if a Māori officer handles a case in a Chinese community, even if he speaks fluent Mandarin, in cases involving personal privacy—like rape—he still might not get all the information he needs.”

“We don’t know what kind of people this case will involve, so we need as much local support as possible—white, black, Māori, Chinese, Asian, and so on.”

Wang Bo shrugged. “Thanks, mate. I’m glad to be part of this case.”

Indeed, taking part in such a case was a good way to gain the trust of his colleagues. Task forces were one of the best ways to build relationships within the police force—the only better one was training together as classmates at the Royal Police College.

Two police cars sped down the long road. The journey was far, and Wang Bo started longing for his helicopter—if only he had one, he wouldn’t have to endure these long drives.

The Dunedin Police Station was located in the city center, not far from the train station. Wang Bo had been to Dunedin several times before, but this was his first time seeing the station up close—an opportunity thanks to official business.

The train station, which opened in 1906, was a grand, historic building. It was a must-see for tourists visiting the city. After getting out of the car, Wang Bo even took a quick photo.

While Sheriff Smith was parking, Wang Bo gazed at the train station. The building was magnificent—majestic and ornate, with wide mosaic-tiled floors and vibrant stained-glass windows that gave it a captivating charm.

Dunedin’s architecture was predominantly Scottish in style, earning it the nickname “the most Scottish city outside Scotland.” The train station itself reflected this heritage—it was built in the Flemish Renaissance style, with Kokonui basalt as the main structure and Oamaru limestone for decorative facades. With its varied forms, textures, and materials, it still stood solid and unyielding even after more than a century.

Sheriff Smith waved him over. “First time here?”

Wang Bo shook his head. “Been here several times, but it’s my first time seeing this station.”

Smith pointed toward the distant hills. “Then you probably haven’t seen Larnach Castle either, have you? You should visit if you get the chance. You may own a castle yourself, but they’re very different in style.”

Wang Bo’s interest was piqued. There were only two castles in New Zealand—his Sunset Castle, and Larnach Castle.

But now wasn’t the time for sightseeing. Straightening his uniform, he followed Smith into the police station.

The Dunedin Police Station was a Scottish-style building surrounded by neatly trimmed lawns, with police cars parked across the grass. If one ignored the cars and the uniformed officers moving in and out, it wouldn’t even look like a police station.

Compared to the Oak City precinct, the atmosphere here was far more intense. Officers moved briskly in and out, speaking quickly, and Wang Bo even spotted a few carrying guns!

Knowing that Wang Bo had never joined a task force or worked with the AOS (Armed Offenders Squad) before, Sheriff Smith explained as they walked:

“The ones with guns are our colleagues from the AOS—they’re here to provide tactical support.”

“The ones with white stripes on their shoulders are community officers, dealing with local issues like traffic, disturbances, quarrels, and disputes.”

“Those in plain clothes report directly to the CIB (Criminal Investigation Branch)—they’re our collaborators for this case, though I expect their attitude won’t be very friendly. They were the ones originally in charge of this investigation.”

“Those guys over there are from the Operations Division, young and energetic like you. I like their drive—they’re eager to prove themselves so they can transfer to the CIB someday.”

Just like in China, where there were regular officers and detectives, New Zealand’s police force was divided into the Operations Division and the Criminal Investigation Branch. The Operations Division handled minor incidents and traffic, while the CIB took on major and serious crimes.

Every new police graduate, without exception, started in the Operations Division—uniformed, handling the small stuff.

After three or four years of solid performance, they could take a series of courses and exams to qualify as plainclothes officers under the CIB. Those who continued to excel could then be sent to the Police College for specialized training and eventually join the Criminal Investigation Branch proper.

As Sheriff Smith explained, they climbed the stairs—when suddenly, someone stepped in front of them.

“Hello, who are you?” the man asked.

From the top of the stairs came a deep, booming voice: “Cole, let them through. That’s Sheriff Smith from Oak City—they’re members of the task force here to assist us.”

Looking up, Wang Bo saw a tall, muscular white police inspector standing above them, staring down. Perhaps because of the angle, Wang Bo couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the man’s condescending posture.