Authorities from 20 countries worked for years to bust the Chinese-Canadian kingpin. Now, they have successfully removed the head of Asia’ largest drug syndicate.
The Australian Federal Police. DFat photo library. CC BY 2.0.
Cai Jeng Ze had sweaty hands. Authorities at Yangon International Airport in Myanmar first noticed him picking at his red, blistered fingers. Drug traffickers in the Asia-Pacific region tend to have similar hands from handling methamphetamine; the drug is toxic to human skin. Authorities stopped and searched him. Taped to each of his thighs was a bag containing 80 grams of ketamine, a medical-grade anesthetic and party drug. These tiny bags were the least of the authorities’ concerns. On his person, they found two cellphones—an “Aladdin’s cave of intel” according to one investigator—that led to the takedown of Asia’s most infamous drug lord: Tse Chi Lop.
Cai Jeng Ze was arrested in 2016, and five years later, on Jan. 23, 2021, Tse Chi Lop was arrested at Amsterdam’s Schiphol International Airport. That day brought to a close the yearslong work of Operation Kungur, a counternarcotics investigation involving 20 agencies from Asia, North America and Europe. It was by far the largest effort to combat an Asian drug trafficking syndicate. Investigators estimate that Tse Chi Lop’s organization, known as “The Company,” controls 40% to 70% of the Asia-Pacific meth market, which produces $30.3 billion to $60.4 billion annually. As CEO of The Company, also known as the Sam Gor syndicate, many have dubbed him “Asia’s El Chapo.” Some investigators believe a more apt comparison would be to Pablo Escobar.
The source of Tse’s riches. Gary Lee Todd, Ph.D. CC0
But the path to arresting this kingpin began with Cai Jeng Ze’s two cellphones. Myanmar authorities invited the Australian Federal Police (AFP) to send two intelligence analysts to Yangon. Once there, they cross-referenced the phone’s contents with their vast database on Asian drug trafficking. With data gleaned from that analysis, Operation Kungur could pursue lead after lead until they gathered enough intel to arrest Tse Chi Lop.
Authorities first learned what Tse looked like by capitalizing on the most lucrative aspect of his business. The AFP intercepted a small heroin shipment into Australia, but rather than arrest the dealers, they surveilled them. After having shipment after shipment seized, Australian gangs demanded compensation from Tse. The Company’s gargantuan profit margins allow Tse to make his buyers offers they can’t refuse: if a shipment is captured by police, he will supply them with a replacement at no extra charge or give them a full refund. The Australian gang was pushing it, though. Annoyed leaders of the syndicate summoned the gang leader to Hong Kong. When the Australian met two men from The Company, Hong Kong police were there to watch. One of the men present was Tse Chi Lop.
His modest appearance belies his notoriety. He is 57 years old. With center-parted hair, he dresses like a middle-class, middle-aged family man. Though not middle-class, he was certainly a family man. He flew family members to five-star hotels for birthday parties. Though middle-aged, he surrounded himself with at least eight Thai kickboxers at a time for his security detail. He was known to bet at casinos and English horse races. One night, he lost $66 million at a casino in Macao.
His profit margins explain his lavish lifestyle. One investigator said Tse’s supply chain was so sturdy and complex that it “must rival Apple’s.” He sources much of his methamphetamine from the Shan state in northeastern Myanmar, a corner of the “Golden Triangle” where Myanmar, Thailand and Laos meet and where most of Asia’s meth originates. Rebel groups control the territory in the Shan state, allowing Tse to operate a state-of-the-art meth facility. Away from the prying eyes of Myanmar’s government, The Company can produce much higher-quality meth in much greater quantities than competitors and can charge much lower prices. A kilo goes for $70,500 in Thailand, $298,000 in Australia, and $588,000 in Japan. The Company can turn a profit charging only $1,800.
United States marshals in Asia’s “Golden Triangle.” U.S. Mashals Service. CC BY 2.0.
Authorities had the chance to give Tse, a Canadian national, a life sentence in 1998. He was found guilty of conspiracy to import heroin into the United States by the Eastern District Court of New York. Through a petition in 2000, he begged for leniency. He claimed his ailing parents needed care. His wife was overwhelmed taking care of their 12-year-old son, who suffered from a lung disorder. He promised to open a restaurant when he was freed.
Luckily, authorities got a second chance. When Tse gained freedom in 2006, he resumed where he left off, masterminding the transport of drugs across continents. Authorities are not yet releasing details about his arrest in Amsterdam. For now, the world is beginning to learn the name Tse Chi Lop. His demure demeanor allowed him to slip under the radar of investigators and media alike. Even in prison, though, his life’s work will exact long-lasting repercussions on Asia’s drug market. The Company and its supply chains persist. Investigators are left with a new question: who will take Tse’s place?
Michael McCarthy
Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.