The guards clutched at their heads, their bodies half-jiggling before falling to the ground. The three Spec Ops returned to the others who waited and Bukayev waved everyone forward. They reached the windows in the first building and Bukayev inched his way to the glass, checked-out what he saw, then waved his head to the others that this was not their target. The unit proceeded to the next building.
“Who goes there?” asked a sharp voice from the darkness, as a man walked out of a door and onto the cement path. There was no answer. The one with the voice came closer and a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around while a razor-sharp blade slit his throat. The guard dropped and was pulled into the shadows. The unit continued to the second building, with some lights in the windows, while Bukayev pointed in different directions. Each man in the unit ducked away.
Bukayev raised himself to the first lighted window and looked inside. Ten more mercenaries in paramilitary uniforms with rifles strapped on their shoulders were talking and crushing out cigarettes. Bukayev watched them check their ammunition clips, then lowered himself away from the window.