{"id":2686,"date":"2026-01-03T22:43:57","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:43:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/fade-away-coben-harlan\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:43:57","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:43:57","slug":"fade-away-coben-harlan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/fade-away-coben-harlan\/","title":{"rendered":"Fade Away – Coben, Harlan"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Book Preview<\/h3>\n
\n

Chapter 1<\/b><\/p>\n

\"image\"<\/p>\n

\u201cJ<\/b><\/span>ust behave.\u201d<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cMe?\u201d Myron said. \u201cI\u2019m always a delight.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron Bolitar was being led through the corridor of the darkened Meadowlands Arena by Calvin Johnson, the New Jersey Dragons new general manager. Their dress shoes clacked sharply against the tile and echoed through empty Harry M. Stevens food stands, Carvel Ice Cream carts, pretzel vendors, souvenir booths. The smell of sporting-event hot dogs\u2014that sort of rubbery, chemically, yet nostalgically delicious aroma\u2014wafted from the walls. The stillness of the place consumed them; there is nothing more hollow and lifeless than an empty sports arena.<\/p>\n

Calvin Johnson stopped in front of a door leading to a luxury box. \u201cThis may all seem a bit strange,\u201d he said. \u201cJust go with the flow, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Calvin reached for the knob and took a deep breath. \u201cClip Arnstein, the owner of the Dragons, is in there waiting for us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd yet I\u2019m not trembling,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

Calvin Johnson shook his head. \u201cJust don\u2019t be an ass.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron pointed to his chest. \u201cI wore a tie and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

Calvin Johnson opened the door. The luxury box faced midcourt. Several workers were putting down the basketball floor over the hockey ice. The Devils had played the night before. Tonight was the Dragons\u2019 turn. The box was cozy. Twenty-four cushioned seats. Two television monitors. To the right was a wood-paneled counter for the food\u2014usually fried chicken, hot dogs, potato knishes, sausage and pepper sandwiches, that sort of stuff. To the left was a brass cart with a nicely stocked bar and minifridge. The box also had its own bathroom\u2014this so the corporate high rollers would not have to urinate with the great unwashed.<\/p>\n

Clip Arnstein faced them, standing. He wore a dark blue suit with a red tie. He was bald with patches of gray over both ears. He was burly, his chest still a barrel after seventy-some-odd years. His large hands had brown spots and fat blue veins like garden hoses. No one spoke. No one moved. Clip glared hard at Myron for several seconds, examining him from head to toe.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike the tie?\u201d Myron asked.<\/p>\n

Calvin Johnson shot him a warning glance.<\/p>\n

The old man made no movement toward them. \u201cHow old are you now, Myron?\u201d<\/p>\n

Interesting opening question. \u201cThirty-two.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou playing any ball?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep in good shape?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWant me to flex?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, that won\u2019t be necessary.\u201d<\/p>\n

No one offered Myron a seat and no one took one. Of course the only chairs in here were the spectator seats, but it still felt weird to stand in a business setting where you\u2019re supposed to sit. Standing suddenly became difficult. Myron felt antsy. He didn\u2019t know what to do with his hands. He took out a pen and held it, but that didn\u2019t feel right. Too Bob Dole. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stood at a weird angle, like the casual guy in the Sears circular.<\/p>\n

\u201cMyron, we have an interesting proposition for you,\u201d Clip Arnstein said.<\/p>\n

\u201cProposition?\u201d Always the probing interrogatory.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. I was the one who drafted you, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTen, eleven years ago. When I was with the Celtics.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst round.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know all this, Mr. Arnstein.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were a hell of a prospect, Myron. You were smart. You had an unbelievable touch. You were loaded with talent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI coulda been a contenda,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

Arnstein scowled. It was a famous scowl, developed over some fifty-plus years in professional basketball. The scowl had made its first appearance when Clip played for the now-defunct Rochester Royals in the forties. It grew more famous when he coached the Boston Celtics to numerous championships. It became a legendary trademark when he made all the famous trades (\u201cclipping\u201d the competition, ergo the nickname) as team president. Three years ago Clip had become majority owner of the New Jersey Dragons and the scowl now resided in East Rutherford, right off Exit 16 of the New Jersey Turnpike. His voice was gruff. \u201cWas that supposed to be Brando?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEerie, isn\u2019t it? Like Marlon\u2019s actually in the room.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip Arnstein\u2019s face suddenly softened. He nodded slowly, giving Myron the doelike, father-figure eyes. \u201cYou make jokes to cover the pain,\u201d he said gravely. \u201cI understand that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. Joyce Brothers.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there something I can do for you, Mr. Arnstein?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never played in a single professional game, did you, Myron?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know very well I didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip nodded. \u201cYour first preseason game. Third quarter. You already had eighteen points that game. Not bad for a rookie in his first scrimmage. That was when fate took over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fate took the form of big Burt Wesson of the Washington Bullets. There had been a collision, a searing pain, and then nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cAwful thing,\u201d Clip said.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh huh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI always felt bad about what happened to you. Such a waste.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron glanced at Calvin Johnson. Calvin was looking off, arms crossed, his smooth black features a placid pool. \u201cUh huh,\u201d Myron said again.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why I\u2019d like to give you another chance.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron was sure he\u2019d heard wrong. \u201cPardon?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have a slot open on the team. I\u2019d like to sign you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron waited. He looked at Clip. Then he looked at Calvin Johnson. Neither one was laughing. \u201cWhere is it?\u201d Myron asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe camera. This is one of those hidden camera shows, right? Is this the one with Ed McMahon? I\u2019m a big fan of his work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not a joke, Myron.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt must be, Mr. Arnstein. I haven\u2019t played competitive ball in ten years. I shattered my knee, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll too well. But as you said, it was ten years ago. I know you went through rehabilitation to rebuild it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you also know I tried a comeback. Seven years ago. The knee wouldn\u2019t hold up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was still too early,\u201d Clip said. \u201cYou just told me you\u2019re playing again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPickup games on weekends. It\u2019s a tad different than the NBA.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand. \u201cYou\u2019re in shape. You even volunteered to flex.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron\u2019s eyes narrowed, swerving from Clip to Calvin Johnson, back to Clip. Their expressions were neutral. \u201cWhy do I have the feeling,\u201d Myron asked, \u201cthat I\u2019m missing something here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip finally smiled. He looked over to Calvin Johnson. Calvin Johnson forced up a return smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps I should be less\u201d\u2014Clip paused, searched for the word\u2014\u201copaque.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat might be helpful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you on the team. I don\u2019t much care if you play or not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron waited again. When no one continued, he said, \u201cIt\u2019s still a bit opaque.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip let loose a long breath. He walked over to the bar, opened a small hotel-style fridge, and removed a can of Yoo-Hoo. Stocking Yoo-Hoos. Hmm. Clip had been prepared. \u201cYou still drink this sludge?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

He tossed Myron the can and poured something from a decanter into two glasses. He handed one to Calvin Johnson. He signaled to the seats by the glass window. Exactly midcourt. Very nice. Nice leg room too. Even Calvin, who was six-eight, was able to stretch a bit. The three men sat next to one another, all facing the same way, which again felt weird in a business setting. You were supposed to sit across from one another, preferably at a table or desk. Instead they sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the work crew pound the floor into place.<\/p>\n

\u201cCheers,\u201d Clip said.<\/p>\n

He sipped his whiskey. Calvin Johnson just held his. Myron, obeying the instructions on the can, shook his Yoo-Hoo.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I\u2019m not mistaken,\u201d Clip continued, \u201cyou\u2019re a lawyer now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a member of the bar,\u201d Myron said. \u201cI don\u2019t practice much law.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a sports agent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t trust agents,\u201d Clip said.<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither do I.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the most part, they\u2019re bloodsucking leeches.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe prefer the term \u2018parasitic entities,\u2019\u201d Myron said. \u201cIt\u2019s more PC.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip Arnstein leaned forward, his eyes zeroing in on Myron\u2019s. \u201cHow do I know I can trust you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron pointed at himself. \u201cMy face,\u201d he said. \u201cIt screams trustworthiness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip did not smile. He leaned a little closer. \u201cWhat I\u2019m about to tell you must remain confidential.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you give me your word it won\u2019t go any farther than this room?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip hesitated, glanced at Calvin Johnson, shifted in his seat. \u201cYou know, of course, Greg Downing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course. Myron had grown up with Greg Downing. From the time they had first competed as sixth graders in a town league less than twenty miles from where Myron now sat, they were instant rivals. When they reached high school, Greg\u2019s family moved to the neighboring town of Essex Fells because Greg\u2019s father did not want his son sharing the basketball spotlight with Myron. The personal rivalry then began to take serious flight. They played against each other eight times in high school, each winning four games. Myron and Greg became New Jersey\u2019s hottest recruits and both matriculated at big-time basketball colleges with a storied rivalry of their own\u2014Myron to Duke, Greg to North Carolina.<\/p>\n

The personal rivalry soared.<\/p>\n

During their college careers, they had shared two Sports Illustrated<\/em> covers. Both teams won the ACC twice, but Myron picked up a national championship. Both Myron and Greg were picked first-team All-American, both at the guard spots. By the time they both graduated, Duke and North Carolina had played each other twelve times. The Myron-led Duke had won eight of them. When the NBA draft came, both men went in the first round.<\/p>\n

The personal rivalry crashed and burned.<\/p>\n

Myron\u2019s career ended when he collided with big Burt Wesson. Greg Downing sidestepped fate and went on to become one of the NBA premier guards. During his ten-year career with the New Jersey Dragons Downing had been named to the All-Star team eight times. He led the league twice in three-point shooting. Four times he led the league in free-throw percentage and once in assists. He\u2019d been on three Sports Illustrated<\/em> covers and had won an NBA championship.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know him,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you talk to him much?\u201d Clip Arnstein asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen was the last time you spoke?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWithin the last few days?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think we\u2019ve spoken in ten years,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Clip said. He took another sip. Calvin had still not touched his drink. \u201cWell, I\u2019m sure you heard about his injury.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething with his ankle,\u201d Myron said. \u201cIt\u2019s day to day. He\u2019s in seclusion working on it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s the story we gave the media anyway. It\u2019s not exactly the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreg isn\u2019t injured,\u201d Clip said. \u201cHe\u2019s missing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMissing?\u201d Again the probing interrogatory.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d Clip took another sip. Myron sipped back, not an easy task with Yoo-Hoo.<\/p>\n

\u201cSince when?\u201d Myron asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive days now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron looked at Calvin. Calvin remained placid but he had that kind of face. During his playing days, his nickname had been Frosty because he never displayed emotion. He was living up to his name now.<\/p>\n

Myron tried again. \u201cWhen you say Greg is missing\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGone,\u201d Clip snapped. \u201cDisappeared. Into thin air. Without a trace. Whatever you want to call it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you called the police?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip gave him the wave-off again. \u201cYou know Greg. He\u2019s not a conventional guy.\u201d<\/p>\n

The understatement of the millennium.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe never does the expected,\u201d Clip said. \u201cHe hates the fame. He likes to be on his own. He\u2019s even disappeared before, though never during a playoff drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo there\u2019s a good chance he\u2019s just being his usually flaky self,\u201d Clip continued. \u201cGreg can shoot like a dream, but let\u2019s face facts: the man is a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic. You know what Downing does after games?\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe drives a cab in the city. That\u2019s right, a goddamn Yellow taxi cab in New York City. Says it keeps him close to the common man. Greg won\u2019t do appearances or endorsements. He doesn\u2019t do interviews. He doesn\u2019t even do the charity thing. He dresses like something out of a seventies sitcom. The man is a nut job.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll of which makes him immensely popular with the fans,\u201d Myron said. \u201cWhich sells tickets.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d Clip said, \u201cbut that just underlines my point. If we call the cops it could damage both him and the team. Can you imagine the media circus if this got out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be bad,\u201d Myron admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly. And suppose Greg is just hanging out in French Lick or whatever hickville town he goes to in the off-season, fishing or something? Christ, we\u2019d never hear the end of it. On the other hand, suppose he\u2019s up to something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUp to something?\u201d Myron repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cHell, I don\u2019t know. I\u2019m just talking here. But I don\u2019t need a goddamn scandal. Not now. Not with the playoffs coming up, you know what I\u2019m saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

Not really, but Myron decided to let it go for now. \u201cWho else knows about this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust the three of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

The work crew rolled in the baskets. Two extras were kept in storage in case someone pulled a Darryl Dawkins and shattered a backboard. They then began putting down additional seats. Like most arenas, the Meadowlands holds more seats for basketball than hockey\u2014in this case around a thousand more. Myron took another sip of Yoo-Hoo and let it roll around his tongue. He waited until it slid down his throat before he asked the obvious question. \u201cSo how do I fit in?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip hesitated. His breathing was deep, almost labored. \u201cI know something of your years with the FBI,\u201d he said finally. \u201cNo details, of course. Not even vagaries really, but enough to know you have a background in this kinda stuff. We want you to find Greg. Quietly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron said nothing. His \u201cundercover\u201d work for the feds, it seemed, was the worst kept secret in the continental United States. Clip sipped his drink. He looked at Calvin\u2019s full glass, then at Calvin. Calvin finally took a sip. Clip turned his attention back to Myron. \u201cGreg\u2019s divorced now,\u201d Clip went on. \u201cHe\u2019s basically a loner. All his friends\u2014hell, all his acquaintances\u2014are teammates. They\u2019re his support group, if you will. His family. If anyone knows where he is\u2014if anyone\u2019s helping him stay hidden\u2014it\u2019s got to be one of the Dragons. I\u2019ll be honest with you. These guys are a major pain in the ass. Spoiled, pampered prima donnas who think our purpose in life is to serve them. But they all have one thing in common: They see management as the enemy. Us against the world and all that crap. They won\u2019t tell us the truth. They won\u2019t tell reporters the truth. And if you approach them as some, uh, \u2018parasitic entity,\u2019 they won\u2019t talk to you either. You have to be a player. It\u2019s the only way to get on the inside.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you want me to join the team so I can find Greg.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron heard the echoes of hurt in his voice. It was unintentional, but he saw that both men heard it too. His face flushed in embarrassment.<\/p>\n

Clip put a hand on his shoulder. \u201cI meant what I said, Myron. You could have been great. One of the greatest.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron took a deep swig of his Yoo-Hoo. No more sipping. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Mr. Arnstein. I can\u2019t help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The scowl was back. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a life. I\u2019m a sports agent. I have clients to tend to. I can\u2019t just drop it all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll get the players\u2019 minimum prorated. That\u2019s two hundred thousand dollars less whatever. And there\u2019s only a couple of weeks left until the playoffs. We\u2019ll keep you on till then no matter what.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. My playing days are over. And I\u2019m not a private investigator.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we need to find him. He could be in danger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry. The answer is no.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip smiled. \u201cSuppose I sweeten the pot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFifty-thousand-dollar signing bonus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreg could show up tomorrow and you\u2019d still get to keep that. Fifty grand. Plus a share of playoff money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip sat back. He stared at his drink, dipped his finger into it, stirred. His voice was casual. \u201cYou say you\u2019re an agent, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m very friendly with the parents of three guys that will go in the first round. Did you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuppose,\u201d Clip said slowly, \u201cI guarantee you that one of them signs with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron pricked up. A first round draft pick. He tried to keep his expression cool\u2014to do like Frosty\u2014but his heart was thumping. \u201cHow can you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about how.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t sound ethical.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip made a scoffing noise. \u201cMyron, don\u2019t play choirboy with me. You do me this favor and MB SportsReps gets a first round draft pick. Guaranteed. No matter how this thing with Greg plays out.\u201d<\/p>\n

MB SportsReps. Myron\u2019s company. Myron Bolitar, ergo MB. Representing sports people, ergo SportsReps. Add it together: MB SportsReps. Myron came up with that name on his own but still no offers came in from major advertising companies to use his services.<\/p>\n

\u201cMake it a hundred-thousand-dollar signing bonus,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

Clip smiled. \u201cYou\u2019ve learned well, Myron.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myron shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeventy-five thousand,\u201d Clip said. \u201cAnd you\u2019ll take it so don\u2019t bullshit a bullshitter.\u201d<\/p>\n

The two men shook hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a few more questions about the disappearance,\u201d Myron said.<\/p>\n

Using both armrests Clip rose and stood over Myron. \u201cCalvin will answer all your questions,\u201d he said with a nod toward his general manager. \u201cI have to go now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo when do you want me to start practicing?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clip looked surprised. \u201cPracticing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. When do you want me to start?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have a game tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Clip said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want me to suit up tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re playing our old team, the Celtics. Calvin will make sure you have a uniform by game time. Press conference at six to announce your signing. Don\u2019t be late.\u201d Clip headed toward the door. \u201cAnd wear that tie. I like it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTonight?\u201d Myron repeated, but Clip was already gone.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

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Book Preview Chapter 1 \u201cJust behave.\u201d \u201cMe?\u201d Myron said. \u201cI\u2019m always a delight.\u201d Myron Bolitar was being led through the corridor of the darkened Meadowlands Arena by Calvin Johnson, the New Jersey Dragons new general manager. Their dress shoes clacked sharply against the tile and echoed through empty Harry M. Stevens food stands, Carvel Ice … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2685,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[156],"class_list":["post-2686","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-harlan-coben"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2686","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2686"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2686\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2685"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2686"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2686"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2686"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}