Chapter 11: Pre-Dawn Meal at the 24-Hour Stall – A Secret Conversation!

Pak Ali’s roti canai stall in Kampung Melayu Majidee was legendary. Open 24 hours, always packed with customers, and most importantly—the hottest gossip hub in town. If you wanted the latest scoop, this was the place to be.

Aiman, Badrul, Johan, and Din sat at a slightly wobbly wooden table, waiting for their sahur meal. They had just returned from watching a football match at Larkin Stadium—Johor FA versus Perak FA. Unfortunately, Johor lost 1-2, and Badrul, a hardcore Johor FA fan, was still grumbling as he sipped his hot teh o.

“I told you our keeper is weak! Look at that second goal—how could he let such an easy shot slip through?” Badrul ranted, still fuming over the match result.

Din chuckled. “Let it go, bro. We can’t just replay it like in Winning Eleven.”

Aiman, sitting in the middle, nudged Din. “You and Winning Eleven again. Your life is basically The Sims, but football edition.”

Johan, who was more focused on their real mission, interrupted, “Hey, we’re not here to talk about football. We have a case to investigate!”

The stall was still lively. A group of Mat Motor sat at one end, laughing and discussing illegal street racing on Jalan Skudai. In another corner, two men in their 40s were whispering to each other. One of them wore a maroon polo shirt with a small logo on his chest. His eyes darted around nervously, as if afraid of being watched.

Aiman stared at them for a moment. “Guys, I think I’ve seen that guy before,” he whispered.

Johan turned. “Where?”

Aiman nodded toward the man in the maroon polo. “At the bazaar the other day. Near the kuih stall we suspected of using stolen recipes.”

Badrul and Din’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Ninety-nine percent,” Aiman said confidently. “That one percent is just in case I’m wrong.”

They pretended to chat while eavesdropping.

“The boss said the next shipment must go smoothly. No disruptions,” said the man in the maroon polo.

“But those kids are starting to get suspicious,” replied the man next to him, who was wearing a worn-out black jacket.

Aiman and his friends exchanged glances. They were definitely talking about something big.

Badrul scribbled something on the back of the stall’s menu. “Shipment? What exactly are they delivering?”

Din scratched his head. “Must be kuih. If they’re talking about a shipment, that means it’s a large-scale delivery.”

Johan lowered his voice. “Or maybe… it’s more than just kuih?”

Before they could analyze further, the man in the maroon polo stood up. The four of them quickly ducked their heads, pretending to be busy with their phones. Luckily, the man walked straight out of the stall without noticing them.

“So what now?” Din asked.

Aiman shrugged. “We follow him.”

Badrul groaned. “Man, I was just about to eat my roti canai.”

“I’ll pack it for you, let’s go!” Johan said, rushing to the counter.

They quickly paid and followed the man from a distance. He walked toward a white van parked by the roadside. The dim streetlights didn’t stop them from clearly spotting his figure.

The man spoke to someone inside the van. Moments later, the back doors opened—revealing several large barrels neatly arranged. There was a logo on them, but it was too dark to see clearly.

“Look closely, bro. Does that look like kuih to you?” Din whispered.

Before they could get closer, the van suddenly started moving.

“Oh no! We need to follow it,” Johan said urgently.

“You think this is Need for Speed?” Badrul grumbled.

They rushed toward Din’s kapcai motorcycle, parked nearby. In their hurry, Din nearly tripped over a rock.

“Follow from a distance. Don’t get too close,” Aiman instructed.

The four of them squeezed onto the motorbike and tailed the van cautiously. It drove toward the industrial area in Tampoi.

“This place is deserted,” Johan muttered. “Something’s definitely off.”

The van turned into an old, abandoned building. The area was dimly lit, with a few flickering streetlights adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Din hit the brakes. “I think we should call the cops.”

“But we don’t have enough proof,” Aiman pointed out. “All we saw were barrels. We don’t know what’s inside.”

Badrul bit his lip. “If we could record something, maybe we’d have a stronger case.”

They searched for the best vantage point. Johan pulled out his Nokia 6600, ready to record.

From inside the building, they heard an older man’s voice.

“We’ll distribute this to all the stores next week. Make sure no one knows where it came from.”

Their eyes widened. This was definitely bigger than just stolen kuih raya.

“Okay, this is serious,” Aiman whispered. “We’re dealing with something way bigger than missing kuih.”

Din sighed. “I just wanted to eat some kuih, bro. How did we end up in this mess?”

They all fell silent, realizing their little mission had just turned into something far more dangerous than they had ever imagined.