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Chartering a flight didn’t take as much effort as Jeremy had thought. He transferred some money from his savings account to the checking account associated with his debit card, made a call, got confirmation that the transaction had gone through, and headed out to the airport, all in less than half an hour.
The pilot was a slim, middle-aged man named Dave Lewis. He greeted Jeremy in a no-nonsense sort of way, as though he was used to twenty-five-year-old kids chartering jets every day of the week, and said they should be in Spearfish in a little over two hours. Much better than Lucas’s Piper Seneca, but then again, while a good plane, it wasn’t a jet.
Jeremy had also made arrangements to pick up a car at the local Enterprise in Spearfish, so he knew he wouldn’t have any trouble gettin
