SIREN

Chapter 1

Monday, 28 May 2018

His stereo was loud. A bit of old-school Hilltop Hoods was blasting, and Curtis was trying his best to keep up with the rapid lyrics.

‘Something, something … to get me through a break up, bitch!’

The Volkswagen Golf hummed steadily down the M2, its modest size dwarfed by the relentless stream of trucks and SUVs heading west toward North-Western Sydney. His Golf made perfect sense when parking in Sydney’s fashionable inner suburbs, but out west it felt tiny. Curtis Ryan’s fingers tightened around the leather steering wheel, his blue eyes fixed intently on the truck weaving about ahead. The morning sun glared through his side window, and he felt the heat on his right arm.

‘We can lay on the beach, and mumble, something

Mumble

Something … followed by a funk show’

And he was rocking it. ‘We’ll rip off our tops and jump around in the front row’

Curtis had been promoted late last year after his former boss’s disgrace and subsequent departure from the company. Following Greg’s sudden exit, Curtis took over the client relationship management responsibilities for their biggest account, Drukas International. He had been a success, so far.

He was headed out to his new shopping centre. Halifax Partners had been appointed to take on the management of The Brooke only eight weeks ago, commencing on the first of April, the day after Drukas International had finalised the purchase and settlement of the property.

It was his responsibility to ensure everything at The Brooke was running smoothly, to address any lingering issues, and to make an impression justifying the trust that had been placed in him and Halifax Partners.

The on-site team had all mostly worked for the previous owner and had transferred across to Halifax Partners. In theory, it would help. The team knew the tenants and how to run the building. That was the plan, but things didn’t always go to plan. This morning’s inspection of the property with the centre manager and her new team was the first time he would be able to formally review how well the management changeover was working. It was another big step in asserting Halifax Partners’ control over the property.

Curtis would be doing a full inspection of the property with the team, which meant it was also an opportunity to ask detailed questions. To find out if they knew their stuff. He expected to find that they were in full control of the property.

“Retail Property Rule Number Nine,” Curtis muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Inspect. Don’t expect.”

Adrianna, his first boss in retail leasing, had drilled the Ten Rules of Retail Property into him during his early days in retail leasing. He could recite nine of them without hesitation, but for the life of him, he still couldn’t recall the tenth. Too much time had passed for him to ask without embarrassment, and so the missing rule remained a mystery.

These mantras had served him well as he’d climbed the ranks at Halifax Partners. Now, as he approached The Brooke shopping centre for an inspection, those words took on new significance. It was a reminder that he should not just take everything at face value. He knew the centre manager was highly competent, but he couldn’t just assume that all was well, or as reported.

Curtis flicked a glance at the rear-view mirror, catching his reflection. At twenty-nine, he looked every bit the part: tailored navy suit, a crisp white shirt left open at the collar, neatly styled brown hair, and a confident tilt to his jaw. Yet beneath that polished exterior, doubt lingered in the corners of his mind. Am I ready for this?

“You’ve earned this, Curtis,” he said aloud, voice firm, pushing his doubts aside.

As he turned off the M2 and headed toward the shopping centre, Curtis took a deep breath, trying to centre himself. As a leasing guy, he didn’t have a great interest in building maintenance or cleaning, except when it affected one of his deals. But he had committed himself to this new role. He was going to inspect every corner of this centre, from the gleaming storefronts to the hidden service corridors. No detail would escape his notice. No potential issue would be left unaddressed.

They had only been managing this new property for a matter of weeks, and the client had agreed to a three-month transition period, but Curtis was determined to ensure that his client was impressed with how smoothly the changeover was handled. Under promise and over-deliver.

The Brooke was nothing but a shed. A pretty shed for sure, but still a shed. Like all new shopping centres, it had a high roof and plenty of natural light. It had a shiny floor, lots of lights, and plenty of painted plasterboard to make it look like it wasn’t a shed.

Shopping centres come in many shapes and sizes. The Brooke was a small shopping centre. If the shopping centre and parking were on a single level, it would always be a simple building. Once they were more than one level, they became more complex. But customers saw the same things. Shiny floors, lights, and lots of plasterboard to hide the ugly stuff.

It would surprise people how much went on behind the scenes of a shopping center. If you looked above the ceilings, there were pipes and ducting everywhere. A fire sprinkler system, air-conditioning for each shop, gas pipes for the cooking, and then exhaust ducts to the roof to get rid of the cooking heat and smoke. Water into every shop, as well as into the bathrooms and the fire hoses. Power cables running along trays. Power had to go into each shop and run the centre’s lighting and air conditioning. Communications wires to connect each business to the internet. Security cameras, smoke alarms, and the public address system, all with wires leading back to the office. Hot water systems. Cool room compressors. A lot was hidden in the roof space.

If you looked below the concrete floor, there were pipes everywhere. Different drains for different purposes. Grease waste, toilets, floor drains, hand basins.

Out back, there were whole rooms for submains and switchboards with power meters for every shop, rubbish compactors the size of caravans to deal with waste, and equipment to deal with other rubbish like cardboard and waste oil. Grease arrestors required their own room because of the smell, and cleaners needed secure areas to store chemicals safely and store their machinery.

The Brooke had all this and more, and it was still considered a low-technology building. Most people thought that you just needed to keep it waterproof, keep the floor shining, and keep the toilets clean.

Pulling into a parking space at the back of the car park, Curtis killed the engine and reached for his file. Leasing agents always parked at the front door, but property managers parked at the back of the car park. He was fully committed to his new role.

In a shopping centre, a car park space was a valuable asset. He had been told that an average parking spot turned over seven times a day, with the ones closest to the front door turning over more often. Customers would go elsewhere or delay their shopping trip if parking their car was too difficult. Shopping centre managers spent a huge amount of time trying to enforce their rules about staff from the shops only using the worst spaces, or even parking on the streets, thus leaving the best spaces for the customers.

Curtis strode towards the centre’s main entrance, his mind already racing with observations and potential improvements. The inspection had begun, and he was determined to exceed even his own expectations.

His phone buzzed. Leanne. “Leanne, perfect timing. I just arrived.”

“Curtis, I need to let you know about a staff situation brewing. I think you should know that two of our cleaning staff are having an affair.”

“And is this causing problems?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Leanne replied, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Both of them are married, and one spouse works in the supermarket. It’s already a real mess. Lots of aggravation. It seems like everyone in the centre knows and has an opinion. It might get out of hand.”

As Leanne continued explaining the potential fallout, Curtis’s mind raced. Leanne sounded worried, but he didn’t understand the issue. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration at the timing.

“Okay, Leanne,” he said, his voice calm and measured despite his inner turmoil.  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Don’t confront them yet. Document everything you know, and we’ll discuss it in person later. We need to approach this carefully. Let’s talk again after the inspection.”

Inevitably, Curtis’s thoughts drifted to the whirlwind of recent changes in his professional life. Last year, he had been asked by his then-boss, Greg, to investigate what was thought to be a minor fraud situation. What was uncovered led to jail time and a suicide attempt for the responsible employee, and then, untimely, to discovering that Greg had also defrauded the company and the landlord. Greg was walked, and Curtis was suddenly promoted.

His promotion to be the client relationship manager for Drukas International had been a big step for Curtis. That, and the leasing for the new Badgerys Creek development.

He knew that luck had played a big part in his sudden rise, but he had put in the hours and was nothing if not diligent. His boss, John Halifax, had expressed his confidence in Curtis numerous times. Yet, a nagging doubt crept in. The Drukas account was massive and growing; their standards exacting. Was he truly ready for this level of responsibility? Was he a leader?

As Curtis walked toward the centre management office, he ran into the management team coming out to meet him. Leanne, the Centre Manager, and her two key staff, Susie, the Marketing Manager, and the Operations Manager, Brian.

In a small shopping centre like The Brooke, the marketing manager ran the promotion of the shopping centre. Anything from managing the website, media, and public relations, to kids’ entertainment and installing the Christmas decorations. Their main role was to maximise the overall sales of the shopping centre and to assist the retailers in growing their sales. They were the main conduit between the landlord and the tenant concerning trading performance.

An operations manager looked after the physical aspects of the building. In an office building or even another industry, they would be called a facilities manager. In places like The Brooke, the focus was on presentation—cleaning, security, and gardening—as well as ensuring all the plant and equipment was properly maintained, that all repairs were quickly dealt with, and the maintenance was up to date. The centre employed a raft of trades to service the building, car parks, gardens, air-conditioning, pest control, and rubbish removal. The list was long.

The centre manager led the whole process.

Greetings were exchanged between the four of them, and they headed off. A shopping centre property inspection wasn’t just about presentation. It usually included a discussion about sales results, facilities management, marketing updates, and leasing talk. Groups strolling through the centre discussed each tenant’s sales as they walked past, who hadn’t paid their rent, what was going on with leasing, current promotions, and updates on any works underway.

Then they headed to the bathrooms together. Curtis thought they always spent way too much time in bathrooms during these walks. The theory was that customers’ judgment of shopping centres was weighted heavily towards their experience with the toilets. He knew research backed that up, but it still felt weird.

Inspection groups can be easily spotted because of the suits and the radios. Everyone in the group who works at the centre has a radio. If they don’t have a radio, then they are from the head office.

If you were to watch one of these groups slowly make its way through the centre, you could easily identify the Centre Manager. Firstly, they have their radio on their hip. Secondly, they alone will bend over and pick up any loose rubbish on the floor.

The Marketing Manager and the Operations Manager can be spotted because they both have their radios in their hands. There is a 95% chance that the marketing manager is female and a 95% chance that the operations manager is male. They are both equal in the hierarchy, and so generally their use of the radios is to call each other and point out problems for the other to deal with. Not just during the inspection, but all day, every day. The radios are on all the time. Reception, the security guards, and the cleaners all have them as well, so everyone is subjected to listening to this ongoing passive-aggressive battle waged over months and years. It surprised Curtis how few of them ended up married to each other.

While Curtis was nominally their boss, he was also a leasing guy and, as such, was denied a radio. This was not a written rule, but no leasing agent had ever been spotted holding a radio, and they certainly would not have one clipped to their belt.

The Brooke was less than a year old and immaculate. The cleaning was spotless, and there was little maintenance needed, purely because it was all new and still under warranty. The gardens outside, however, were still developing, and Curtis pointed out some empty patches.

Brian, the operations manager, did not strike Curtis as particularly interested in gardens, but he noted the areas and would no doubt instruct someone to deal with them.

As they began to walk around the outside of the building, Leanne grabbed Curtis’s arm and pulled him back a little from the other two. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, and tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety that immediately caught his attention. “There are some things you should know.”

“I’m listening. What’s going on?”

Leanne sighed heavily. “It’s the staff here. When Halifax took over, we kept everyone. At first, I thought it would make the transition smoother, but now … I’m not so sure.”

Curtis frowned, his mind racing. “What do you mean? Are they not performing well?”

“It’s not that exactly,” Leanne hesitated. “It’s more about their attitudes, especially the Operations Manager. He’s … well, let’s just say he’s not making my job easy.”

As Leanne continued, Curtis thought of the bustling shops. The Brooke was a stark contrast to Fields Mall – sleek, modern, brand new, and full of potential. But you never knew what issues could be hidden beneath a well-polished surface.

“Tell me more about the Operations Manager,” Curtis prompted, his voice low and focused.

Leanne’s words tumbled out, painting a picture of a territorial manager who seemed resistant to change. As she spoke, Curtis couldn’t help but notice the lack of confidence in her voice – a far cry from the assured mentor he’d known at Fields Mall.

“Leanne,” he interjected gently, “you’ve dealt with difficult personalities before. What’s bothering you about this situation?”

There was a long pause before Leanne replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I … I’m not sure I trust my judgment anymore, Curtis. After what happened at Fields Mall, with the fraud … I keep second-guessing myself. What if I’m missing something again?”

Curtis felt a pang of empathy for his colleague. The fraud at Fields Mall had shaken all of them, but Leanne had taken it particularly hard. It had been her direct report, after all. He chose his next words carefully.

“Leanne, you’re one of the most capable centre managers I know. The fraud wasn’t your fault—it could have happened to anyone … but I understand why you’re feeling this way.” He paused, “Look, I’m here now. I’ll keep an eye out for any red flags with the staff, especially the Operations Manager. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s talk again after the inspection.”

When they reached the rear of the building, they were confronted by the side wall of a hulking factory, its faded brickwork marked by decades of grime and the occasional streak of graffiti. The unusual element of this appointment was the former cereal manufacturing plant that loomed at the rear of the centre—a relic of the past and not long for this world. The old factory was part of the land parcel on which The Brooke shopping centre stood, and it was slated for demolition as part of the Stage 2 expansion. For now, though, it had been leased out for short-term storage. This arrangement meant that Halifax Partners, more accustomed to glossy retail spaces, found themselves managing their first industrial property.

“These guys haven’t paid rent since we took over, Curtis.” Leanne’s voice was sharp with frustration. “I’ve tried contacting the owner, but he’s gone completely off the radar. No calls, no texts, no emails—nothing.”

“Okay,” Curtis replied with a nod, his tone calm but purposeful. “Let’s head in and take a look around.”

They walked through the massive sliding gate, across the courtyard, and stepped through the cavernous roller door, the clang of their footsteps swallowed by the echoing space within. The building was alive with activity. A forklift whirred past, its warning beeps cutting through the air as it manoeuvred a towering stack of wooden pallets. A truck idled near the far wall, its trailer open as two workers loaded it with crates. Another truck waited for its turn to be loaded. Boxes were piled haphazardly along the walls, some labelled, others not.

Curtis scanned the space until he caught sight of a man in a hi-vis vest directing the forklift operator with broad, exaggerated gestures.

“Excuse me,” Curtis called out as they approached. “Who’s in charge here?”

The man turned, his brow furrowed. “You mean George? He’s not here right now,” he said, barely slowing his pace. “Probably won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

Curtis exchanged a look with Leanne but said nothing. They continued their walk through the space, stepping cautiously around piles of debris and machinery parts. At the rear of the warehouse, a peculiar sight caught their attention—a large pile of foam pieces, scattered and torn, as if something had been shredded and abandoned. The foam pieces looked tubular, and some were covered in a silver wrapping; some chunks were several meters long, others reduced to small, hand-sized scraps.

“What do you think this is?” Leanne asked, frowning.

Brian crouched down and picked up a piece, examining the jagged edge where it had been roughly cut. “No idea,” he said, shaking his head and passing it to Curtis. “But it doesn’t look like storage to me. This is rubbish.”

Leanne glanced around, her expression growing more uneasy. “It seems strange, Curtis. Why would they store rubbish? Whatever’s going on here, it’s not what they’re supposed to be doing.”

Curtis stood and dusted his hands off on his suit pants. “Was this here the last time you inspected?”

Neither of them answered. A moment’s silence passed as Curtis waited. Finally, Leanne spoke up. “It’s my first time inside.”

“I haven’t been in here either for a while. Not since before you guys took over,” confirmed Brian.

Rules of Retail Property #9— Inspect. Don’t expect.

“Well, we need to start treating this tenant like we treat the shopping centre tenants. We need to check on them all the time. Let’s find out exactly what they’re up to with this styrofoam. The bigger issue is their rent. We need to get their rent back on track before they turn into a bigger problem.”

As they all left the building, Curtis outlined the beginnings of a plan. “Brian, you need to work out what that foam is all about. Is it even something that we need to worry about? Or is it just rubbish? Leanne, try to get in contact with this George guy, and if you can’t, then we need to find his details. We need him to pay his rent. Maybe we’ll need to visit him.”

The inspection finished, Curtis and Leanne began walking back through the centre. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass atrium, casting long shadows across the tiled floors.

“So,” Curtis said, breaking the silence, “about these two having an affair. Who are we talking about, exactly?”

Leanne smirked and subtly nodded toward a dishevelled man pushing a mop across the food court floor. He was no taller than five feet, well into his sixties, with greasy hair and a round belly that strained against his ill-fitting uniform.

Curtis stopped in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. “Him? Seriously? Him?”

Leanne bit her lip to suppress a laugh and gestured ahead. “And her.”

A woman had emerged from a service corridor, lugging a bucket. She was even shorter, similarly aged, and generously proportioned, with a very ill-fitting light pink uniform dress, her movements slow and lethargic as she shuffled toward a supply closet.

Curtis stared at the pair, his expression a mix of astonishment and amusement. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean … how?!”

That was all it took—Leanne burst into laughter, hand to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “I know, Curtis! I can’t believe it either. It’s true! It’s not a real issue for me. I just thought you were taking everything so seriously in your new job, you could use a laugh.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”