After the introductions, Cole — who had been polite a moment before — darkened noticeably. He shot a glance down the row and left with a sour expression.

“What attitude is that? We came to help them.” Wang Bo complained.

Uncle Bing folded his arms behind him and said, “Back in the SAS, if we went to help another unit on a mission, unless we beat them in the field they wouldn’t accept our help.”

Wang Bo sneered, “Such big egos? Fine — if you’re that proud, don’t ask for our help. What a bunch of nonsense!”

The case had stalled for half a month because the Dunedin police didn’t want outside help — they believed they could handle it themselves. Of course, that was an illusion.

They climbed to the second floor. The tall inspector McRae shook hands with them all and introduced himself: “I’m the chief of Dunedin Central Police, McRae — you can call me Mac.” Sheriff Smith and McRae already knew each other, so no introduction was needed there. Following protocol, Wang Bo introduced himself in turn.

They walked into a large office full of cubicles and computers. “This is the office we prepared for you,” McRae said. “I’ll have someone bring the case files over shortly.”

This gathering was billed as the island’s elite — at least in name. The task force leader was Sheriff Smith, which explained the local police’s grumbling: McRae outranked Smith physically and in rank, yet he couldn’t directly lead the operation. It was normal to be annoyed.

Smith was the leader, and this team had arrived early. Another ten or so officers trickled in until about twenty had assembled; among them was someone Wang Bo knew — Officer Conley.

Conley had been the cop Wang Bo met while handling the Suradi fraud case. Full of zeal and a sense of justice, Conley was the reason the ambulance for Sunset Town was secured. Wang Bo respected him — the police were taking this case seriously. A twenty-person unit was not a small allocation for New Zealand, and Conley, being from the North Island and good with electronics, had been assigned as technical support.

The twenty officers were divided into two big groups of ten; Wang Bo and Uncle Bing were put in the same group, and naturally Wang Bo became the squad leader.

In addition to the task force, a local AOS tactical unit was providing tactical support, led by McRae. A female Dunedin officer gave them a briefing on the case: as Wang Bo already knew, Andison Ranch first noticed the missing cows. After checking with other ranches, three farms together reported 200 cows missing.

“These are cows — at least half a ton apiece, and live animals at that. A total of 700 missing? And not a single trace left behind?”

“Don’t even mention traces — not even a single hair?”

“Ha — doesn’t Dunedin have CCTV? No cameras at all?”

Voices murmured and speculated in the room; the female officer doing the briefing looked awkward.

Wang Bo glanced around and said, “Everyone seems hostile.”

“Of course,” Conley beside him smiled helplessly. “Cops in big cities like Dunedin are always targets. We’re like that too.”

Sheriff Smith frowned. “Enough. Quiet. Do you all understand the case? If there are no questions, get on with the investigation — stop gossiping.”

He was the task force leader and still had authority; his words quieted the room.

Dunedin is a large city and has many CCTV cameras, but rural monitoring systems are underdeveloped. There was another difficulty: nobody knew when the thefts occurred. It could have been a day ago, or ten days, even twenty. That meant that even if some places had surveillance, limited storage would have overwritten the footage.

The Dunedin police suspected a large out-of-town theft ring had come in — like the brutal Cromwell Brotherhood — but their investigations found nothing. The Brotherhood themselves were paying attention, curious how the thieves had operated.

After the briefing the meeting adjourned. Sheriff Smith arranged for several squads to go out and investigate in their own ways. Wang Bo was dispatched too — his identity gave him an advantage: he and four of the affected ranchers were all members of the same stubborn-cattle club, so he could talk to them more easily.

“Try to get whatever local info the police haven’t already found,” Sheriff Smith told him with high expectations.

This case was extraordinary. Even task force members were authorized to carry firearms on this job.

Wang Bo was interested — though he had pulled a pistol out to scare suspects before, it had always been via the power of the Lord’s Heart; he’d never properly carried a gun on patrol.

In New Zealand the question of whether police should be routinely armed is a hotly debated topic. Wang Bo thought ordinary officers couldn’t be armed like in the U.S., because changing the tradition would transform everything — police identity, training, and relations with the public.

That’s not to say armed patrols weren’t useful; many countries had successful armed policing. Armed patrols have advantages — for example, at a subway crime or a hotspot where weapons are needed, armed officers nearby can react more quickly. But in a country without an armed-patrol tradition, sudden change requires long adjustment and extensive work: the nation’s 12,000 officers would need retraining for armed patrols — a huge undertaking.

People in New Zealand often feel distance from armed police. According to public opinion, most citizens prefer officers not to patrol armed. Another problem is what happens when armed patrols meet heavily armed criminals — what if the weapons are taken from officers? That could be even more dangerous.

Wang Bo and Uncle Bing were issued guns; the way they wore them showed their experience. Wang Bo tucked his pistol into his waistband, while Uncle Bing took a tactical vest and had his holstered under his arm.

“An old hand,” the officer supplying the vests remarked.

Wang Bo noticed that after praising Uncle Bing, the officer gave him a look as if he were an idiot — but Wang Bo didn’t care. He covered the pistol with his clothes, and with Uncle Bing they drove off onto the highway.

He wanted to head straight to the ranches to see the owners, but Uncle Bing shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll drive around town first and find some local thugs. What they know might be as much as the police.”