Sometimes being nice scares the recipient...
So picture the scene, 'Tis evening and the tube is slowly disgorging its load of armpits and arseholes, a smattering at every stop as it wends its foetid stinking way out to the end of the line.
The chap sat opposite me with the architect's plan case has his headphones in and is fiddling with his phone, entirely oblivious to anything that's not being delivered to his senses via the latest piece of black shiny consumer tech.
He sits wrapped in his own world until, with a strangled cry he realises just where the train is and makes a last moment dash for the already closing doors. Squeezing between them with a dexterity even Indiana Jones would have to admire. Alas, like Dr. Jones he leaves behind an important object, not a hat but a USB hard drive. Nice piece of kit it looks too.
So sighing wearily I pick up the toy and stick it in my bag, receiving many black looks from the shriveled old harridan sat beside me, with every intention of handing it to the lost property chap at my destination two stops down the line.
But there is no lost property chap, or any chap for that matter. The local police station is closed and there's no way I'm driving to the main station N miles away. So I head home.
'Tis the work of but a moment to plug the device in and dig through it for personal data.
No porn, no incriminating nuclear secrets, no jihad plans, nothing really worth looking at to be honest.
But there was a current CV. So a brief exchange of text messages later and a slightly perplexed sounding chap is heading over to my place to get his toy back.
Fellow arrives at the door and I hand him the drive, noticing that he's a little wild around the eyes and is keeping as far from me as possible.
Once he's got a firm hold on it he starts asking all manner of questions.
How did I know where he lives, where did I get his name, his phone number, had I been talking to his girlfriend, how the fuck did I know all about him, and tellingly, was he "on a list" ?
I shrugged, told him it was all on his hard drive, expecting that would be explanation enough.
Apparently not, for with the words "Oh Fuck No!" he turned and fled into the night, never to be seen again.
So far I've resisted texting him details of his upbringing and education, but it's hard, cruel hard...
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 17:24, 5 replies)

He's now living in a cave watching his old electronics burn and thinking he's outsmarted "them".

( Infidel , shit and wrong, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 17:36, closed)

haha

(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 17:51, closed)

probly had a hidden volume on it
some encrypted disks will appear as a normal, unencrypted drive with random crap on it, while underneath actually lurks an encrypted drive with a plethora of all kinds of naughty things on it. Its called a hidden volume. Anyone who has that level of paranoia will more than likely have this kind of thing on a disk.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 22:14, closed)

Truecrypt ftw.

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Tue 14 Feb 2012, 23:39, closed)

Wrongness
I'm sure Albert Marshmallow could give you a few hints with what to do with all that info...
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Wed 15 Feb 2012, 11:11, closed)