Roman had him. He was sure the person the old man had described was the target. He could finally get out of this wretched place. He was now making his way back to the enforcement office to grease the wheels, so to speak. Roman had a large amount of grease, and all he needed to do was find the right man in charge.
Once there, Roman scanned the layout of the enforcement office. He saw the haggard intake officer. He wouldn't do at all. A few file clerks. Nope, too far down the totem pole. Then he saw the office at the back with the unmistakable markings of seniority. That was the man Roman had to talk to. Walking past the long line of plaintiffs, Roman flagged down the intake officer. Ignoring the complaints of the small old woman at the front of the line, he flashed his credentials at the officer. Immediately the man's bored demeanor changed. Roman spoke in the local dialect and told the man that he needed to see the Major, and that anyone who helped in his assignment would be greatly rewarded. Roman had accidentally on purpose let his wad of credits slide out from behind his credentials, which had the desired effect.
Moments later Roman was in the Major's office, explaining the lucrative venture that the Major could be a part of. The man sitting behind the desk was listening with rapt attention.
Twenty minutes later Roman, the Major, and two squads of officers headed out with the old native in tow.