BY MARGARET CARLSON

Sitting behind the wheel of his Lincoln, wearing wraparound shades and a deep
melanoma scar on his face, John McCain looks like a B-movie hitman. As a matter of
fact, he is trying to kill something: Washington's seamy money culture. The Arizona
Senator has just finished an event with a 1,500-lb. pig named Rootie, his accomplice in
an annual unveiling of the pork hidden in the federal budget. Now he is tearing the
wrong way up a one-way drive into the Capitol for a press conference with
conservative Blue Dog Democrats supporting his effort to drive the pigs from the
trough. After a decade of frustration, McCain's campaign-finance-reform bill will
finally get its hearing on the Senate floor, without threat of filibuster, this week.

To get this far, McCain had to triumph over his enemies. Now he has to defeat a pal,
Nebraska Senator Chuck Hagel, who calls McCain his best friend in the Senate. Hagel
still wears his MCCAIN FOR PRESIDENT button occasionally, and shows off a framed
TIME cover of McCain inscribed "To my dear friend." Yet he has authored a rival bill
that has emerged as the favorite disguise for those who want to look like reformers
while leaving the system porous enough for Denise Rich to drive a pardon through.
Hagel's proposal does not ban soft-money contributions but simply caps them at
$120,000 per two-year cycle, though critics calculate that wealthy folks could still
give half a million dollars. When I ask McCain why he can't talk some sense into his
brother-in-arms, he says their differences run too deep. "Chuck takes soft money,
which is an illegal loophole now, and enshrines it in the law."

Hagel wouldn't be such a threat if he weren't such a good guy. He is "McCain without
the attitude," as one colleague puts it. A Vietnam War hero, part maverick, part go-to
guy for moderates of both parties, Hagel is that highly evolved political creature:
principled but open for business. The Reform Over My Dead Body folks, such as Senator
Mitch McConnell, can talk to him, as can the President, who has met with Hagel three
times on reform. Although Bush's just-released "statement of principles" differs from
Hagel's bill in some respects, Bush would sign it, since it allows soft money. He would
forgo tax cuts before he would sign McCain-Feingold.

Hagel doesn't see himself standing in the way of his friend's life's dream. "Don't make
this into a Shakespearean struggle," he says. "This is not an issue between John and me
personally. We've always known the day would come when we would go different
ways." But of all the issues in all the world, why would Hagel pick McCain's signature
bill to fight over? He's got his principles too. "John's bill has the unintended
consequence of weakening political parties by depriving them of soft money, which
will then go to darker, unaccountable forces," he charges--an argument critics find
laughable.

For the moment, Bush is quietly praising Hagel, not wanting to scare off Democrats
looking for a life raft after years of supporting McCain when he didn't have a chance of
prevailing. Having raised more soft money for 2000 than G.O.P. Senators did
(unlikely to be repeated unless Bill and Hillary don bellhop uniforms and sneak into
the Lincoln Bedroom), some Senate Democrats are now as tempted as Republicans to
cling to what McCain calls the "Incumbent Protection System," which returns more
than 90% of both parties to federal office. After voting five times for McCain-Feingold,
Louisiana Democrat John Breaux discovered last week that it is fatally flawed. He now
favors Hagel.

Back in his office, McCain gobbles a tuna sandwich and meets with Colorado
Representative Mark Udall, son of McCain's mentor, Democrat Mo Udall. He recalls his
favorite Udall line on the difference between an Arizona cactus and a congressional
caucus. "Here," he laughs, "the pricks are on the inside." McCain, who forgave the
Vietnamese despite his captors' hanging him by his broken arms, is a chipper warrior,
confident Hagel will lose. During Easter recess, the two may go to Ireland, where a
pint has smoothed over many a grudge. "We were dear friends before," McCain says.
"We'll be dear friends after."

"A Death Match Between Friends " was published in Time Magazine Issue 12 Vol.157 dated March 26th, 2001