I stepped out to have a cigarette, even though everyone was smoking inside. I needed a break. A pair of men who were grooming a fighting cock across the way eyed me unapologetically. I took long, slow drags, aware of the attention but beyond caring. A tricycle pulled up a couple of doors down and discharged a familiar figure, dressed in a white short-sleeve shirt and jeans. It was José Martin. He registered my presence with surprise and then appreciation.

“So what brings you here?” I said.

“Me? I’m a journalist covering the EJKs. I’m at all the funerals. Or as many as I can cover.”

I offered him a cigarette and he took one and then another, which he stuck behind his ear for later. I handed him the lighter.

“Better question is: ‘Why is Ting Klein here?’” He looked into the room. “And Zack Palanca. What brings the gods of New Manila down from their Valhalla?”

“I knew her,” I said.

“Is that all?” José Martin took another look into the room and I saw him register Inchoy and his grief. He gave me a questioning look.

“The deceased was very close to Inchoy. Let’s leave him in peace.” José Martin too was gay, and he would respect Inchoy’s privacy.

José Martin took another drag and brought the lit end of his cigarette around so he could see the slow burn of the good tobacco. “Any news for me?”

This was not the time. I gave him the look I thought he deserved.

He whistled in response. “Wow. You mestizas. Shit, Ting. I expect more from you.”

“More from me?”

“A little less form, a little more substance. I’m following a lead and you could help. Gumboc has to go. You take out the head, and the body crumbles. For all you know, your little bit of information could put an end to all of this.”

“What more do we need to condemn Gumboc? Everyone knows he’s a murderer. Everyone. The United Nations, Amnesty International, every world leader. Gumboc’s not going anywhere. And my friend is dead—”

“And you’re wondering what more could happen? If this is as bad as it gets?”

“Why would I wonder?” I gave him a withering look. “Things are always lovely in Valhalla.”

“You’re upset. And you think I’m a fly at the corpse. But this is not the time for sentimentality. Gumboc just extended martial law in Mindanao, and why? Ever since the siege ended in Marawi, Abu Sayyaf has been in disarray, unable to organize, on the run.”

“You’re scared that martial law will be declared nationwide? We are already living without due process,” I said. “Isn’t that what martial law is?”

“No, Ting. Do your research. Aren’t you a journalist?”

“I have to go.”