"I'm sure you regret it," Jack said, his smile still on his face. It had become tigher somehow, and it had grown an unpleasant quality in the process. Jack was always perfectly polite. It wasn't quite the same as being perfectly nice.
"Weeks ago, sure," Jack said. He walked behind his desk, producing a box for James. In it, cradled in straw bedding and swaddling clothes, was the voodoo doll of Ben that Leon had made. It had been decapitated and pierced through its chest was a wooden stake. The card had been removed. "Do you know anything about this?"