Behind Closed Doors

I like to believe that we’re the biggest liability. We have access to every room, every key, every hour. We have some of the biggest power and yet nobody suspects us. Nobody suspects the janitor. We’re tired, overworked and underpaid, but we have eyes and ears everywhere. We know everything about everyone. I have colleagues who tell me to pay more attention to my surroundings, to gather dirt, and intel.

I’m not a gossiper though, I couldn’t care less about what happens in this building. So while everyone else in the janitorial team gossips and listens, I clean with my trustworthy noise-canceling headphones. I blast music through them and listen to styles most people would call “old”.

I like the solace the rhythms give me while I work, it makes me feel like it’s really just me in this sprawling building, vibing to my music as I sweep my way across the floors. 

It’s late, and I took the closing shift, mainly because there’s always no one around at this time of day. I have my cart, my mop and my strong-smelling cleaning sprays. But most importantly, I have my headphones on my head, the muffs encase my ears, blasting them with music. As I roll my cart out into the hallways, stopping from room to room to sweep, mop and dust, the loud boom of Smells Like Teen Spirit starts to dull.

I don’t think much of it, and continue working, dousing a cloth with a spritz of the lemon scented cleaner and running it over a desk. The song begins to gradually fade, then mute completely as I finish up the room and close the door behind me. This time, I frown, thinking the headphones must’ve disconnected. I slide them off and inspect them, only for the little red dot at the side to be the answer to my problems. 

My headphones are dead. And I still have one last room to clean. I don’t recall ever forgetting to charge them, but maybe in my haste every morning and night I must’ve forgotten to fully plug them into the port. Sighing, I take them fully off. I’m halfway across the hall, ready to head into the last room for the day when a muffled voice heads my way. I’m too far to tell where it’s coming from, until I edge a little closer only to find out it’s coming from the room next door.

That room I’m not meant to clean, it’s always a job for the morning shift janitor, which must be why I hadn’t encountered any other workers until now. I take a step closer, focusing on the words coming out of the person’s mouth.

Their tone is urgent, and unnecessarily hushed, as if they’re trying to keep quiet even in a locked office. The large window spanning towards the left side of the door is slightly cracked open, letting the voice flow out and into my range of hearing. 

“...I understand. But the delivery must be made quickly and discreetly. We cannot risk getting caught…”

Lack of music forgotten, I take a step closer, trying to make out what exactly the person is trying to say. I can tell the voice belongs to a man, and I know it’s only him in the office, since it’s only his voice I can hear. 

“–you don’t have to worry about that. Nobody’s around to hear and the night shift janitor is always wearing headphones.” 

The man was talking about me. Whatever this package was, it was evidently clear he had put a lot of thought into this. Who notices a janitor on the night shift? No one, unless they were up to something–hiding something. 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you until midnight for the delivery. And make sure to leave nothing behind. This cannot be traced back to us” 

I’m snapped out of my trance and take a step back. What delivery? What could possibly be delivered that could raise suspicion? My first thought is something illegal, drugs maybe, but this is a reputable law firm. Most employees are those working for the law, under strict regulations. And unless they care very little about their high ranked, high paying job, it seems extremely unlikely that they would be involved in any illegal–

The door clicks and I jump, backtracking my steps, heart in my throat as the door handle turns, then the man pulls open the door. I quickly turn to my cart and begin rummaging through my cleaning sprays, hoping to stay inconspicuous. I feel the man’s gaze boring into my back. His footsteps quiet just outside the threshold of his door and his voice drifts in my direction. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there. Don’t you usually have headphones of some sort?” 

He was onto me. I wasn’t one to engage in workplace gossip but being caught just reminded me why even so much as deciding to listen in was a bad idea in the first place. 

Turning to face him, I reply to his question. 

“Uh, yeah…they literally just died this exact second. A bummer, really.” 

The man narrows his eyes at me, adjusts his blazer jacket and nods. He doesn’t say anything else, insteads he stalks away, down the hall, stopping only to take his phone out of his pocket to text something. I watch after him, and I can’t help but notice the frantic way his fingers flew across the screen as soon as his back was turned.

***

The whole rest of my shift, I racked my brain, trying to remember something, anything, one of my janitorial coworkers could have mentioned, retaining to what I heard. I try and I think, hoping that one of my memories would kick-start any second and give me that missing puzzle piece I needed to break this down.

But the more and more I think, the more I begin to forget everything my colleagues have ever talked about. I’m losing hope, and I keep feeling like something shady was about to go on that I maybe could’ve prevented. My attempts are futile, and eventually, after I clock out and sign my sheet confirming all the work I completed tonight, I decide to stop trying.

Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe this is why I listen to music and ignore people when I work. Gossip never leads to anything good, I’d known that. 

I walk into the elevator, tugging my coat onto my shoulders, ready to face the cold, chilly air of the city outside. The time to get from the sixth floor to the first takes seconds and when the door opens before me, I see my boss, the head of the law firm pacing in the lobby. 

He catches sight of me and as the doors fully part, I notice a woman next to him. She’s in plainclothes but it doesn’t take much to figure out she’s a cop. Her badge is concealed behind her jacket and Lowell takes a flurry of urgent steps towards me. 

“Jeanette. We were about to go look for you, but did you by any chance see anything suspicious or weird going on during your shift? What floors were you working on?” 

Oh, God. 

My heart plummets, and I feel my body freeze. I wasn’t being paranoid, I knew it.

“Five and six, what’s happened?” My eyes frantically search Lowell’s, dreading for an answer. He opens his mouth but the woman beats him to it. 

“Files of a very important case have been stolen. We’ve been suspecting the presence of a mole during the last few weeks. Confidential information has been being leaked to the press, and if those files get into the wrong hands, we cannot predict what will happen. Did you see anything? It’s important to tell us if you did–”

She drones on and I tune her out. I let the weight of the guilt drag me down, and it’s becoming unbearable. How, how could I have missed this? How could I have been standing, right in front of the suspect and not have done anything? He was right there, a crime was being committed and I wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together. He saw me, he got spooked, and now all those files are in the wind. I’ve let everyone down. 

“Jeanette?” Lowell’s voice snaps me back to reality. 

I open and close my mouth, unable to form words for a moment, until I finally manage to clear my throat and confess: 

“I overheard a call on the sixth floor. A man was plotting on the phone. I…I didn’t think anything of it…” 

My head bows and my heart pounds, beating so hard I feel as though it might burst through my chest. At that moment everything became clear: knowledge was my biggest ally, but silence would always be my most dangerous gamble.