Yara Hughes: All-Seeing Detective

Chapter Five: First Impressions

The man in question was tall, most likely just over six feet. He was white, had dark brown hair and was growing in a beard of the same color. He was wearing a crisp black suit with a blue tie and brown loafers. The sign he was holding read, "HUGHES" in big, black letters. I walked up to him, flashing the badge that I had kept in my pocket.

"You're with the FBI?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"Can I see that badge again?" He asked in response, gesturing to my pocket. I brought it out again and held it up long enough for him to give it a proper once-over. He nodded and I put it away.

"Cameron Roth, FBI," He said, extending his hand to shake. "I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'll be your partner and guide for as long as you're here."

I took his hand and shook it. "Yara Hughes, New Scotland Yard; Criminal Investigation Department. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise; thanks for coming to help."

"Anytime. But shouldn't you be, you know, back at the station and solving the case now?"

"Well," Cameron said with a laugh. "The unit has multiple people; so I'm expendable for an hour or so. Come on, let's walk to the car." He turned and started to walk toward the exit; I followed. Waiting for us, sure enough, was a large black SUV. Cameron walked over to the closest door, pressed a button on the key, and opened the door. He then gestured to the other side of the car.

"Go ahead, hop in." Cameron said.

"You want me to drive?" I asked astonished.

"What? Oh, geez. You Brits and your backwards cars. This side," He gestured to his side of the car. "This side is the driver."

Right. I forgot America is weird. "My bad, I guess I'm just used to the Brits."

He let out a small laugh as I walked to the other side and got in. The experience was surreal. How does one drive like that? I must've been wearing my confusion on my face because Cameron let out another laugh.

"I've been driving like this my whole life. I'm used to it."

"Ah."

Cameron started the car and drove out of the airport complex. For the most part, the area was highway and trees. Or no trees and just small grassy hills on the side of the road. The first important thing I noticed was that all of the signs were in miles, not kilometers like the rest of the sane world. I ran through the metric to standard system conversions in my head; none of them made sense.

Once we got closer, Quantico began to take shape. The town itself was small, comprised almost entirely by the FBI building and a Naval Academy. Near headquarters, big, green trees covered any land that wasn't a parking lot or a building. We left the car in the lot and walked up to the building. Cameron scanned his ID card and the door opened for us to enter. We took an elevator up to the sixth floor, and the doors opened to reveal a large workspace, occupied by some cubicles and a small-ish open area for a movable whiteboard and a gathering of people. The gathering in question was entirely made up of men in suits. Wonderful, I thought. Six more alpha males. As if they'd heard my thoughts, all six turned around to face us.

"Roth!" One of them called out.

Cameron smiled at them as we walked closer. "You guys make any progress while I was gone?"

"Nah," the same man answered. Then his attention turned to me. "Is this our support from across the pond?"

At this point, we were close enough that I could extend my hand for him to shake. "Yara Hughes," I said. "New Scotland Yard. Thanks for the opportunity."