Barbie Spy Squad: Discovering Dark Secrets

The phone call

Patricia's POV

I dropped onto the backseat and curled into the fetal position.

Another line of bullets thunked across the windows, leaving even more webs in the glass.

The gunfire then moved on to the SUV ahead of us, riddling the vehicle with golf-ball-size dents.

"Don't worry," the agent told me, "This entire car is bulletproof! As long as we stay in here, they won’t be able to get us!"

I couldn't help but laugh sarcastically.
"Oh thanks! That's reassuring! Maybe instead of bickering like kids, you could've paid more attention, and we wouldn't be here in the first place!"

The two grunted in irritation but didn't say anything causing me to smirk.

However there wasn’t much I could do except stay in the car. I was locked in the back and we were trapped on the road.

Many of the innocent drivers ahead of us, who didn’t have bulletproof cars, had abandoned their vehicles and leapt into the Potomac.

Without drivers, their cars were going to keep sitting there in our way, meaning we were going to stay boxed in and at the mercy of the shooter.

This just can't get any worse, can it?

The driver was on the radio, calling for backup. "This is Alpha Team. We are with the package on the Arlington Bridge, stuck in traffic and sustaining heavy fire."

At least they have enough braincells to know that they should call for backup!

"The Arlington Bridge?" the radio dispatcher replied with disbelief. "That thing’s a mess. Why didn’t you take the Roosevelt?"

Because they're idiots! I thought it's obvious!

"Because we didn’t!" howled the driver. "We need backup right now!"

It took me everything not to cackle at this comedy.

"Can you tell where the assault is coming from?" the dispatcher asked.

"Not exactly," the driver reported. "Most likely from the construction site."

I chanced a look back through the window, which was now so webbed with cracks, it was like trying to see through a kaleidoscope. The construction workers were all running for cover, but it was impossible to tell where the shots were coming from.

There were a thousand places for shooters to hide: stacks of iron beams, pallets of concrete, dozens of construction vehicles. More bullets rattled the car.

"Why are they shooting at us?" the driver exclaimed. "We’re not with the president!"

The agent peered over the front seat at me, a sudden realization in his eyes.

"They’re not shooting at us," he said to me. "They’re shooting at you! Your associates know you can name them and now they’re trying to make sure you don’t!"

No shit, Sherlock! Gama is a super secretive terrorist organization. It's their operating procedure not to leave any loose ends.

I looked out through the front window, to where the other drivers had leapt into the Potomac. It wasn’t the safest escape strategy imaginable, but it was the best at hand.

"We need to get out of here!" I told the agents. "We’re not safe in this car!"

"We’re safer in here than we are outside it," the agent insisted. "I told you, this
thing’s bulletproof. It can stand up to anything they throw at us."