The proliferation of high-end, New York-style steakhouses shows no let-up. The newest (since July) is the third unit of Empire Steak House, whose owners, Jack, Russ and Jeff  Sinanaj, have established themselves near the head of the national chains, few of which are any longer connected with the original founders. The Sinanajes came to the U.S. in the 1980s from Montenegro and worked their way up the usual restaurant totem pole with pluck and great energy, pooling resources to open their first steakhouse early in this century. They are building a small empire, with international designs, and it is that family commitment that has kept theirs from feeling as if conceived in a corporate board room.
         Now there are the three New York Empire restaurants—on E. 50th Street, W. 54th Street and now in the Theater District, along with their Chazz Palminteri Italian Restaurant (with a branch in White Plains) in New York, and one in Tokyo, with plans for Singapore and Hawaii.  I don’t envy them their jetlag.
        The new Empire sits right across the street from the theater where “Chicago” has played for ages, and within a block of a slew of other shows, so it’s drawing a pre-theater crowd by 5:45. Unfortunately, Empire has not yet received its full liquor license, so for now only wine, from a strong list, and beer are available.
        The interior, with its L-shaped marble bar up front, and a dining room done in traditional wood-paneled wainscotting, wood floor, bentwood chairs and spacious, well-set tables in view of historic photos of New York landmarks. At the moment the noise level is just fine, though as business increases, I can’t vouch for that pleasure much longer.
        The menus at all the Empires are the same, and priced that way. Aside from a couple of nightly specials, you’ll always find exactly what you expect and had last time. No one goes to a New York steakhouse to be surprised, even if one offers, say, a lot of pastas, sushi or five-pound lobsters.
        They always have two soups, the rich lobster bisque and, one night, rarely seen lentil soup ($21.95). The tuna tartare with avocado cream and seaweed salad ($29.50) makes for a good, spicy appetite stirrer, and the jumbo lump crabmeat cocktail (market price) truly lives up to its name when it says “jumbo.” The “Empire’s Hot Platter” of shrimp scampi, stuffed mushrooms and baked clams is a pretty good buy at $30.50, while the grilled octopus is first rate, a fatted portion served with sauteed spinach, cherry peppers, garlic, capers and spiced olive oil. ($30.95). Of course, they offer sizzling Canadian bacon by the thick slice ($8.95).
        Pasta portions are meant to be shared, like the one piled high with sauteed calamari, shrimp, clams and fish in a white wine tomato sauce ($46.95), and all the Empire restaurants pride themselves on their bucatini alla carbonara ($36.95).
        There are plenty of options for cuts of steak, including American and Japanese wagyu, though I always opt for the USDA Prime porterhouse for two ($139.95) that will easily feed three. So, too, the double-cut rack of lamb is massive, with three large chops that can serve three people ($69.95). Chicken parmigiana ($41.95) is another item only a trencherman could attempt to finish on his own. Empire, like all its competitors, charges a high price for its food, but splitting a dish for two or more cuts way down on the tab.     
   The only real disappointment when I visited was the Dover sole in a caper-strewn white wine-lemon sauce ($69.95). Since the best Dover sole is a rarity, a chef has to gauge how many he can obtain of first quality and serve every one that night. Otherwise, like this example, it lacks freshness, flavor and texture.
         For side dishes, the baked potato ($9.95) must weigh a pound, and the creamed spinach ($15.95) and onion rings ($13.95) are both excellent. The home fries ($15.95) are a house specialty (left)  for good reason, rich with onions and seasoning.
        Desserts ($12), made in house, are enormous and a table of four need only order two. Of particular interest are the apple strudel, the chocolate lava cake, the pecan pie and the crème brûlée, which go with a long list of dessert wines.
        Empire’s wine list is first rate for a steakhouse, rich in every category, with three dozen wines by the glass, many under $20, along with a slew of half-bottles, magnums and large format bottles that offer the best value on the list. Mark-ups are about average for New York, with several bottlings under $75.
         I hope the Sinanajes don’t spread themselves too thin in foreign ports of call, because it is their personal attention to detail that has won them a faithful crowd in New York.

Open for lunch Mon.-Fri.; dinner nightly.

        Suddenly with a loud blast the front door blew off its hinges and the room filled with gray smoke, making it impossible to see what was about to happen. David knew it was not tear gas, but everyone started coughing. Then someone shouted something in Hungarian and there seemed to be three intruders in the room. Toth’s men swung their hands behind their heads and turned their backs to the intruders as the smoke began to dissipate.
        Now Toth and the Americans could see three men dressed in dark clothes with black ski masks covering their faces. One of the men rushed over to Toth and shoved him on the couch, telling him not to make a move and handcuffing him. The other men were already handcuffing Toth’s thugs. David could see one of the intruders was armed with a Russian Makarov pistol—standard issue to FSS agents. The other men had Bizon submachine guns, also Russian, designed to be very destructive at close range. 
         The smoke, which had come from a grenade, had mostly dropped to the floor, and Katie and David could see their captors were now the  captives. Toth was screaming at them in Hungarian, which the Americans assumed was to tell the intruders how important a man he was and that they’d never get away with this.
         “Do any of you speak English?” Katie asked of the intruders. The man with the pistol, standing over Toth, said in a thick accent, “Yes, you are safe now, but you must come with us, quickly.”
         David, whose rushing adrenaline had helped keep any effects of the drug at bay, said, “Not until we know who the hell you are. Your guns are Russian. You FSS?”
         “That should not concern you now,” said the man with the pistol, which he put back into a holster. “All that matters is you come with us. Now.”
         Katie said, “But my friend was just injected with a drug that might kill him in the next hour. We have to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible.”
         The man shook his head and said there wasn’t enough time. Then one of the other men took the English-speaking intruder aside. Katie couldn’t hear what language they spoke, but it looked from their movements as if they were arguing over whether David was to be treated or not. Then Katie remembered. “Wait! Hold on! Toth here said that the antidote to the drug was an acid, like vinegar.” She turned to Toth and shouted, “That’s what you said right? Vinegar?”
         Toth said nothing. The English-speaking intruder pushed his pistol against Toth’s knee.  The man said, “Is this true? You have three seconds to tell me or I shall blow off your knee. Then the other one.”
         Toth said, “All right, all right. Yes, vinegar will probably work if it’s injected quickly. But it’s never been tried with a human being.”
         “You have vinegar here?” asked the man, digging his pistol deeper into the flesh of Toth’s knee.
         Toth answered, “I don’t know. I’m not the bloody cook here. If we have it, it’s somewhere in the kitchen.”
         David and Katie rushed into the kitchen and began opening every cabinet. “I think I found some!” said David, twisting off the cap to smell if it was vinegar. “Here, give it to Toth.”
         The man with the pistol shouted at Toth, “Do it. Now!”
         “I can’t do anything with these fucking handcuffs on,” said Toth. “Let me up.” The man holstered his pistol and brusquely dragged Toth to his feet, then undid the handcuffs, saying, “If you do not make this injection within one minute, I shall smash your face in, understand?”
         Toth said, “How do I know if this vinegar is fresh or sterile. It could kill him as quickly as the drug.”
         David said, “I’ll take the chance.”
         Katie said, “Don’t trust him, David. I’ll give you the shot.”
         “You know how to do that?”
         “I had to learn to give my father shots of insulin for his diabetes.  I’m pretty good at it.” Then she turned to Toth and said, “How much do I give him?”
         Toth, believing the intruders did not want to kill him, said, “I have no bloody idea. I’ve never used it before. Just give him the whole syringe.”
         Katie had no reason to believe or not believe Toth at that point.  She looked in the refrigerator and found another couple of fresh syringes.
         “You’ve got to boil it for five minutes,” said Toth, trying to be helpful if it would save him from having his face bashed in.
         Katie took a syringe and put it in a small pan of water and brought it to a boil. She glanced over at David, who seemed to be showing signs of the drug taking effect. His was blinking his eyes, his mouth was slightly drooping.
         “David, you O.K.?” He nodded and waved his hand. 
         While waiting for what seemed like an eternity for the syringe to be made sterile, Toth spoke to the man with the pistol in Hungarian, probably offering him a bribe to let him go, but the man said nothing in return, except to ask where Toth’s coat was. Toth motioned to a closet. The man went to it, grabbed a large winter coat and wrapped it around Toth’s shoulders.
         “Where are we going?” Toth asked in English but got no answer. The man turned to Katie and barked, “It has been five minutes. We must go.  Do what you have to do.”
         Katie removed the syringe and extracted vinegar that she had also put in a pot to boil, hoping that would not lessen its effectiveness. She filled the syringe and said to David, “You ready?” He nodded, looking very sleepy now.  Katie gave him the injection, swabbed the puncture with some of the vinegar and said, “Here’s hoping.”
         The man with the pistol barked, “O.K., we go, now.”
         By then the other two intruders had marched Toth’s men to the cellar and tied their feet, then ran upstairs and hustled Toth, Katie and David out the front door. Two cars were parked out of sight to the rear of the house, a Mercedes sedan and an Audi SUV with its windows blacked out. Inside each was a driver; another man, also with a ski mask, stood outside the SUV.
         The man with the pistol said to the Americans, “You go in the Mercedes.”
         “Where are we going?” asked David, who still showed signs of grogginess.
         “The less you know the better,” said the man, who then shoved Toth into the SUV.   
         The two men with the sub-machine guns brought Katie and David to the Mercedes and opened the back door for them. Inside was the driver and another man, who was cradling a sub-machine gun in his lap.  One of the men outside said something in Russian to the driver and closed the back door.  Then he said to the Americans, “Give me your passports.”
         “Please,” said Katie to the men up front, “please tell us who you are and what’s happening.” There was silence.
         The  frosted window was up, and just as the driver put the car into gear, one of the men outside took his glove off and with his finger wrote three letters on the frosted window, which Katie and David read as “UYN.” The Mercedes bolted forward, as did the SUV at the same moment, in a different direction.
         “What’s ‘UYN’ supposed to mean?” said David. “Is it Russian?”
         “I don’t know,” said Katie. “Driver, what does ‘UYN’ mean? It’s Russian?”
         The driver shrugged and said nothing.
         David glanced at the window again, his face slightly brightening, and said, “Katie, it’s not ‘UYN.’ We’re reading it backwards from this side of the window.”
         Katie looked again and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit, it’s ‘NYU!’”
         Despite everything that had happened, they both burst out laughing.